Page 208 of Royal Rebel

Desfan tensed, his eyes darting warily over Sahvi’s men. They were all stiff, their hands hanging near their weapons. All it would take was one wrong breath. One wrong move.

Liam eased the blade away from Sahvi’s neck, just slightly.

Sahvi’s shoulders loosened.

Liam sighed. “The hard way, then.” In one smooth motion, he grabbed Sahvi’s wrist, slammed it on the table, and stabbed the knife through his hand.

Sahvi howled.

Karim shoved Desfan back as Sahvi’s men attacked. Fang’s men darted forward, and so did the palace guards.

Blades hissed as they emerged from their sheaths, metal struck metal, and men yelled. The warehouse became a battlefield.

Desfan dodged a swinging curved sword and skirted the worst of the fight, heading for Sahvi and Liam. Alarm rushed through him. He needed Sahvi alive. He needed to know everything about Skyer so he could protect Imara. He needed to stop Liam—now.

Fang reached Liam first. His fist collided with the prince’s jaw, and Liam reeled back.

Fang grabbed the knife in Sahvi’s hand—which pinned him to the table—but he didn’t pull the knife out. Instead, he twisted it, shouting, “Where is my daughter?”

Sahvi screamed.

Desfan swore as one of Sahvi’s men jumped in front of him, daggers spinning. He jerked his own blades free, and then they fought.

He didn’t know where Karim was. He caught a glimpse of Fang, slamming a second blade into Sahvi’s bleeding hand. Sahvi cried out and fell to his knees.

Fang’s men surrounded him, protecting him from Sahvi’s men as well as the palace guard.

A burning cut sliced the back of Desfan’s hand. He nearly dropped his dagger. Fates, he needed to focus on the fight in front of him.

But it wasn’t easy. Where was Liam?

“Karim will never let me hear the end of this,” Desfan muttered.

The Zennorian man in front of him snarled wordlessly and struck again, his knives flashing.

Desfan retreated until the heels of his boots hit a crate. He leaped back on it, and he didn’t hesitate to use the high ground. He kicked the man in the face, and the Zennorian flew back. Blood rolled down Desfan’s wrist from the cut on his hand, but he forced that pain aside so he could search the room without distraction.

The extra guards hadn’t arrived yet—they hadn’t had time to get into position. He knew they’d run in once they were close enough to hear the commotion inside the warehouse.

Desfan looked over the room, his chest rising and falling with quick breaths.

Karim fought one of Sahvi’s men.

Fang had athirdknife in Sahvi’s hand.

Liam dodged a strike from one of Fang’s men, his nose bleeding, his face furious. His clear target was Fang, but only so he could get to Sahvi.

Desfan had to get there first.

He jumped off the crate and shouldered his way through the melee, ducking and leaping to avoid the whirling blades and flying fists.

He was close when one of Fang’s men slid in front of him, blocking his path with bared teeth.

Beyond him, Sahvi screeched in agony.

“Tell me where she is!” Fang snarled.

Desfan cursed. “Fang!” he yelled around Fang’s guard. “Let me arrest him. We’ll get Ayma—I promise!”

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