Page 121 of The Revered and the Pariah

He wore a wicked smile on his face, like he’d already won. That smile she’d seen so many times when the slavers had taken a whip to their backs or kicked them while they were down.

She needed—

Arianna didn’t need anything.

The ringing in her ears faded. Her lungs relaxed, pulling in air that tasted like crackling magic. Arianna lifted her head and it felt as though the world slowed around her.

Crack.

Crack.

Crack.

She wasn’t trapped. Arianna flexed her fingers around the handles of her blades and fresh blood flowed through her joints.

She wasn’t hiding. She stood and met Talon’s gaze. The world and everything around her moved slowly, as if she had all the time in the world.

Arianna pinned the male before her with a look of disgust. She took stock of the chains in his hand and those hanging from his waist. As if he expected to enslave them all. Her. Talon. The guards. Arianna clenched her fists.

She wasn’t powerless.

You’re weak, her father’s voice echoed from a distant memory.

The male closed the distance and she watched as he grabbed her wrist.

No. I’m not.

A final crack and the dam broke. Power surged through her and Arianna angled the knife in her right hand and swung it down in a wide arc, severing the male’s arm from the rest of his body.

His scream pieced the night air and those remaining at his side hissed, their deadly magic rising, ready to engulf her, too.

A sweet voice whispered to her then, telling Arianna she was just as deadly as any of them. More so. Because she’d survived. She had come out victorious from every battle she’d ever fought and it wasn’t because of luck or the gods or some coincidence or fate.

It was because she was powerful and unstoppable and fierce.

Ice burst from her feet and exploded in a wave of cold that sent the male before her sprawling to the ground, frost already crawling across his skin. She silenced his comrade’s magic, snuffing out their shadows as if they were nothing more than flames on a candle.

They came at her with weapons instead. Arianna ducked beneath the first swing and brought her blade up. The sharp knife cut right through his leather armor and slid across the delicate skin of his stomach, spilling the contents on the ground at his feet. He doubled over, but Arianna left him, focusing on her next target.

She swung and missed. The male grinned, sure he had won, but she blinded him with a burst of ice. He fell back and she leapt on the male before he could right himself. Arianna buried her blade in his throat, then turned toward the rest.

Talon was still fighting, but his eyes were on her now, studying every movement she made.

She was not weak.

Arianna ran and became a series of vicious, quick movements. She wouldn’t feel guilt or offer them a shred of mercy or forgiveness.

Her knives flew from her waist faster than she’d ever thrown them and they found their marks every single time. Her guards regrouped, fighting in her wake. Fighting with her. Then Talon was at her side, moving in sync with her strikes as if they were partners in a dance.

Their enemies fell, paused, then backed away. Arianna didn’t let them run. She let her magic cover the ground and caught those attempting to flee. They tripped, sliding, and the ice crawled along their bodies, rising up and up until it covered every inch of their skin, forever trapping them inside an icy cell.

Her breath clouded in the air and Arianna only half registered that Talon stood by her side, his magic still circling.

He stepped, crunching hoarfrost beneath his feet. “We probably shouldn’t kill them all.” Right, because they needed answers. Like who had tipped them off, where the rebel factions were gathering, and how many others they might have in captivity.

Though many were wounded and limping, the warriors followed Talon’s instruction to bind those still alive with iron and shove gags into their mouths.

They’d been outnumbered and emerged victorious. So many plights and challenges and she’d come out on top every single time.

---