Page 190 of Royal Rebel

He only smirked at her curse. “Not such a horrible threat, really—I don’t believe in the fates.”

He knelt beside her, the blade spinning once in his hand.

Clare glanced at the little girl. “Close your eyes, Sidrah.”

She did, scrunching her entire face as she bowed her head.

Zilas plucked up a rose from the basket. “I’ll give you the choice I try to give all my victims: do you want me to kill you first and then arrange your body, or will you hold still?”

Her first fistful of dirt hit his eyes. The second she kept in her palm, and it helped dull the slice of the blade as she caught the descending knife and shoved it aside.

Zilas snarled.

Clare rolled, snatching the small dagger strapped to her calf as she moved to the bench. Sidrah’s eyes were wide and she screamed.

Clare swiped her blade at the rope tying Sidrah to the bench, but her shaking hand missed. She tried again, but Zilas tackled her.

His weight crushed her, but she managed to keep a grip on her knife.

He grunted as he straddled her back, pressing the aching side of her head against the ground. “You’ve made your decision, then,” he grunted. His fingers knotted in her hair, ripping at the pins as he jerked her head up, exposing her throat.

She could already feel the phantom swipe of his blade. The end of her life.

Desperation choked her. With him behind her, she couldn’t stab him effectively. But her knife wasn’t useless.Shewasn’t useless.

She drove the blade into the only part of his body she could reach—his leg, braced firmly against her side.

He howled and jerked away from her.

She kicked, knocking him off her. She’d lost her knife—it was still buried in his leg—but she snatched up a fist-sized rock. She twisted around, still crouched on the ground, prepared to strike him with the stone. But when her eyes locked on Zilas’s they were wide. Shocked. Pained.

Not quite seeing her.

He was rigid, crouched on his knees. Then Bennick rose from behind him, gripping Zilas’s shoulder. Bennick’s other hand jerked back, removing the dagger he’d shoved into his brother’s back.

Clare trembled, still holding the rock. Her recently-healed fingers burned with the pressure, and she tried to loosen her hold. Only, she couldn’t. She couldn’t let go of the cool stone, even as she watched Bennick release his hold on Zilas, and the assassin slumped to the ground.

He landed on his side, gasping for air. He glanced at her, then his gaze flicked up to Bennick, who knelt over him. “You,” he croaked.

Bennick said nothing. Just stared at him, bloody knife in hand.

Zilas’s face clenched. “I . . . I’m not the only one . . . I’m not . . . the last . . .”

His breath rattled out, and his body stilled.

The smell of roses hung heavy on the air, mixing with the scent of blood.

Bennick’s throat worked. Still kneeling, he reached for Clare.

She pushed up from the ground and threw her arms around him, clutching him to her. His arms came around her, weaker than normal. Shaking. Fates, he’d been incapacitated by some horrible poison. How was he even here?

Behind her, Sidrah burst into fresh tears.

Clare pressed a quick kiss to Bennick’s jaw before she pulled back. She hated to leave him, but the little girl needed her.

She retrieved her small knife from Zilas’s leg, grimacing as it pulled free. She shoved aside her nausea and hurried over to Sidrah. Murmuring soothing assurances, she cut the girl free, then wrapped her in her arms and stood.

Bennick’s fingers were pressed against the side of Zilas’s neck—checking to make sure his brother was truly dead. When his hand fell away, Clare couldn’t quite read the emotion that sparked in his eyes.

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