Page 162 of House of Embers
This guy didn’t look like he underestimated her.
“Hey there,” she said, twirling her sword as he approached her.
He was solid muscle, all bulk. She wasn’t even sure hehadmagic. He didn’t seem to have a shield up and wasn’t carting around any fireballs. And strangely absent was the use of any magical artifacts.
Red Masks had been fighting dirty with them for too long for Bastian to give up on them now. Surely they hadn’t taken outalltheir artifacts when they’d raided that warehouse. He wasn’t dumb enough to put all his eggs in one basket, not the Bastian she knew. He was frequently playing chess while everyone else was playing checkers.
The beefy Fae male blocked the slice of her blade with his forearm. A heavy metal bracer caught the attack, and he shoved with all his considerable might. Kerrigan flew backward a few steps. The sand shifted under her feet, and she felt herself slip.
With a grunt, she dove away from his swinging fists and ended up deeper in the arena, cut off from Fordham. Bad move.
“That wasn’t nice,” she taunted.
The male just grunted. “Leatha trash.”
“Glad we understand each other,” she growled and then went on the offensive, rushing toward him at lightning speed.
Somehow he got through her defenses, smashing his hand down on her wrist. It was only force of habit that kept the blade in her hand as she went down. And then an uppercut went straight into her stomach.
The air whooshed out of her lungs as she wentupbefore crashing down into the sand. She hadn’t taken a hit like that in a while, and with her diminished energy, she took the hit like it was a knockout. In the Dragon Ring, they would have been counting down to whether she could scrape herself off the arena floor.
This hadn’t even been magic. Just a huge guy and a well-placed punch.
“Bravo,” she wheezed.
“The Father doesn’t want you dead yet,” he snarled as he lifted her by the scruff of her collar like a puppy. “But I will kill you if you give me any trouble.”
“Sure, sure,” she said. “Only one problem…”
“No problems,” he growled.
A shadow appeared behind him.
“Me,” Fordham said as he dropped into place at the guard’s back. His hands came to either side of the male’s face, and then he twisted until his head cracked at an unnatural angle. The male went limp, dropping Kerrigan as he fell down dead.
Fordham offered Kerrigan his hand, and she let him pull her up. She dusted herself off with a grumbled, “Took you long enough.”
“Use your magic next time.”
She nodded in acknowledgment. No amount of saving it up could get her to the end of her mission if she died from not using it at all.
“Let’s skip the pleasantries then,” Kerrigan said.
As another wave of guards headed for them, she grasped Fordham’s hand, and together they both grasped that line of shadow magic and pulled together. It answered their call, united in its use as they disappeared from view and landed a moment later at the end of the council stage.
More screams this time from the remaining few who hadn’t been smart enough to leave the arena floor. They huddled before the platform in their finery, covered in jewels, and cowered in fear.
Kerrigan ignored the nearest male, who cowered at her feet reciting litanies not to kill him. “You don’t have to stop on my account,” she said. “Stand up. Speak your demands to the council.”
“N-no…no,” he gasped. “Please…please don’t kill me.”
“No? You don’t want to ask this mock council for help with your fields or a break on your taxes or something else while they make the weakest among us suffer?” Kerrigan demanded, her eyes never leaving Bastian. “What do you think? Should we give him a break on his taxes?”
“Hello, Kerrigan,” Bastian said as if nothing had transpired between them at all.
He had all the warmth he’d always had for her. Real affection in his voice. A smile on his wicked face. The scars from the fire etched like a map down his face. He wasn’t the Father, leader of the Red Masks, in this moment. He was the head of the council, a revered Society member, and her mentor.
A duality that she could see like looking at him with double vision. One person layered on top of the other. But she wasn’t shaken by his duplicity. He had survived this long on the duality of his nature.
