Page 60 of Vilest Things
She almost misses it: a flash of movement, incoming from the tree line. Deep green that blends with the forest instead of city-alley black, which means it is an attacker instead of reinforcements, heading right for them.
Two thoughts flash in her mind.
One, Anton won’t turn around in time. Two, if she doesn’t stop the attacker, it ends here—the palace collapses, and Talin…
But before her very eyes, the manfreezes. His limbs lock, and Calla blinks in sheer incomprehension as he starts to fall, knees unmoving when anybody else’s instinct would be to lunge forward and catch himself.
A blade flies from the left. It lands in his throat, as smooth as shearing through dough, and embeds to the hilt. The man collapses. As soon as Calla’s gaze swivels wide in search of the culprit, she makes direct eye contact with OttaAvia, who is standing between two stout trees, one hand holding back her long sleeve and the other still in the air from making the throw. Otta offers a smile.
Anton turns around, following Calla’s line of sight. The battle has reached its last dregs, guards fanning deep into the trees and examining the premises. By the time Anton spots Otta too, the palace guards arrive in the vicinity, asking Otta to please return to the carriage. Galipei emerges among them, performing a fast inventory.
Calla charges forward.
“You,” she snarls, pointing at Otta. She gets a few strides in before Galipei blocks her path. Calla tries to circle around. In response, Galipei grabs her properly, making a valiant effort to rein her back.
“Calla, this is unnecessary—”
“You did this.” Calla has no proof. She’s aware that she makes her accusation without proof, but she would much prefer to gather evidence after she’s gotten her hands around Otta’s slim white neck—
“IsavedAugust,” Otta calls from the trees. “Youwere about to let him die.”
“I saw him coming. I had it handled!” Calla returns.
“Enough! Enough!” Galipei bellows. “Your Majesty, are you all right?”
One of the Weisannas picks up the sword Anton was using, shaking it free from the thistle. Another retrieves Calla’s, then turns a questioning look her way. The forest is unnaturally quiet while they wait for his answer.
“I’m all right,” Anton says plainly. Any tortured expression of his has disappeared. There’s no sign of Anton Makusa.
The others in the clearing may not see it, but Galipei stiffens. He is still holding Calla steady; she senses the muscles in his arms prepare in defense, almost as though he didn’t hear what he wanted to.
Galipei is suspicious. Of course he is. It was only going to be a matter of time until Galipei caught on that something was off, but what aboutthatanswer prompted the realization?
“You fought,” the Weisanna holding Anton’s sword says.
Anton’s gaze flickers to Calla. “Princess Calla did most of the work. I hope I offered help.”
“That’s whatwe’rehere for, Majesty.” Galipei, succeeding in redirecting the confrontation, releases Calla. He gestures rapidly at the other guards, and they go to lead Otta away, plucking her from the scene before Calla can lunge again.
Galipei doesn’t glance at Calla when he takes her sword from one of the other Weisannas. He doesn’t meet her eyes when he passes it back to her.
“In the future,” he says, still speaking to his king, “there is no need for you to get involved.”
Calla takes the sword.
“Understood,” Anton says.
“All right. Let’s return.”
Galipei prompts Anton away from the clearing, returning to the delegation. Wind blows through the branches, and Calla feels a cool drop of liquid move along her arm. It’s only when she looks that she sees the tear on her jacket and the first prickle of pain begins to smart on her upper arm. She grimaces, grabbing the cuff of her sleeve, and finds blood pooling inside her sleeve, dripping to her wrist. Someone cut her. She didn’t even notice the sting.
Calla stands where she is. At this point, almost everyone has trudged out of the trees. A guard makes another summons, calling for her to move along.
Everything moved so fast. The attacker, running in. Otta from a distance, throwing that knife. Otta from a distance, using her qi to stop the man in his steps and render him entirely immobile.
Calla’s teeth are gritted so hard that her jaw hurts.
“Bitch,” she manages under her breath.
