Page 28 of Claiming Glass

“Get away from him!” Tempest called and despite having no idea where we stood with each other, I knew she would not stay up there and let them rob me.

All was fabricated between us but what I felt on the street, thinking I might lose her, was real. The anger in her voice now was real.

“Got himself a little tart,” a lanky man snickered. “Perhaps she can pay a bit as well. Only fair he shares.”

When Heridan propositioned her at the barge earlier, something inside me had snapped. As this stranger leered at the woman above me, anger so black I barely recognized it awoke.

“Don’t,” I said, voice quiet.

Feet scraped against the wall above me. She would not stay away. It was not in her nature to run.

Five people faced me. The street outside no longer mattered.

“Think noble boy needs a lesson in sharing,” the woman said, waving the others forward.

The heavyset man had only shifted his weight, readied to throw the punch he surely thought would knock me out, when my fist struck his temple.

The female guards in the Tower, our finest bone soldiers and Roja, had trained me as a child. Zakhar continued with weapons when I left their care. In the mountains, I had done little besides practice.

I could fight on uneven ground, from griffon, and with a hand tied behind my back. Multiple opponents were always a risk, but knowing Tempest was behind me and what they would do to her if I fell, overrode reason.

The woman pulled a knife. I disarmed her, snapping her wrist in the process.Make them fear you. That had been my father’s lesson. Battle was as much mental as physical. Only from the killing blow did I halt myself. Snapping her neck would have been easy, but death… perhaps even like this I was too weak.

I took the next man’s punch on my forearm before ramming my elbow into his chest and throwing him to the ground.

The world narrowed, the wind whispering as each opponent moved. I spun with it, movements flowing. In the abandoned courtyard, Vanya had likened it to a dance. If so, it was the only one I had mastered.

Each step was precise. Each blow blocked or ducked. My vision narrowed further.

Then I stood alone, breathing hard, bruised but unhurt.

Behind, the wind said, and I spun, fist raised and balance shifted for the follow-up kick.

Tempest’s wide emerald eyes stopped me like nothing else had.

She lifted a hand, as if approaching a wild and possibly dangerous animal.

“Dim—Sasha?”

I lowered my fists, relaxed my fingers, and something on the ground moved.

The large man had come to—he rose, knife in hand.

Vanya stood between us.

Time seemed to slow as he lunged, and I wrapped my arm around her.

He cut my forearm as I spun. Then my own knife, so far untouched, was in my free hand. Before he could attack again, my blade pierced his chest.

This man got no last blessing or word like Zakhar had. Did not get my regret.

Tempest pulled me away, and without letting her out of my arm, we ran.

While I fought, the street outside had cleared. Only broken people and goods littered the cobbles as if to show me what would soon become of Tal, and I did not know how to stop it.

Chapter eight

Vanya

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