betting
imithi
aren’t so great at following orders.
There’s nothing Aren can do about it, though.
“Are you two ready?” he asks, turning back to me and Trev. I nod, pull up my hood, then climb out of the canal behind the two fae. That’s when I feel a flicker of anxiety from Kyol. He feels my focus, my slightly elevated heart rate, and he knows that I’m moving now.
Relax,
I tell both him and myself. This should be simple. I don’t even have to read the shadows; I just have to point out what I see.
We’re halfway across the street. My focus is riveted to the narrow house’s single window. Fae don’t often use bows and arrows—their enemies rarely stay in one place and, many times, they’re invisible—but we’re in a part of the city that’s protected by silver. If I were Nimael and thought there might be a chance someone was hunting me, I’d have at least one bow stashed somewhere inside.
But he has no reason to use it on us, I remind myself. He doesn’t know we’ve found him. He’s here to recruit
elari
, and we’re just a few innocent, sludge-covered people crossing a street.
Suddenly, the front door opens. Three fae step out, and everything—the air, the rain, my heart—goes still.
• • •
“DON’T let them back in!” Aren yells. Before the last word leaves his lips, Trev’s already acted, launching a ball of flames from his hand into the door behind the fae.
“Bring Taltrayn!” Aren grates out. The order is unnecessary. There’s no stopping Kyol from coming. He felt the cold terror slide over me the second that door opened.
Aren grasps his sword in both hands and takes a step forward. “Where are they, McKenzie?”
“Shoulder to shoulder just outside the door.”
“I can hide you,”
a voice pipes up just behind us. Dicer. No surprise there.
Aren doesn’t hesitate.
“Do it,”
he says. To me, he adds, “Tell us when and where to swing.”
I nod, then both he and Trev are rushing forward. Dicer must be a decently strong illusionist. I see the moment the
elari
lose sight of Aren and Trev. Two of the three fae take a half step backward as they bring their swords in front of them. They don’t have humans to see through Dicer’s illusion, and they can’t fissure out of here. They’re screwed.
But the fae in the center with gray-streaked hair doesn’t look concerned. He doesn’t even unsheathe his sword. With the door burning behind him, he—
Nimael
—takes a rustic red cylinder from his belt and untwists a cap. A thin, coiled rope falls to the ground, then, with a flick of his wrist, the rope snakes out in front of him.
Aren and Trev are almost on him.
“Jump! Jump!” I scream, but they don’t understand, and with another flick of his wrist, Nimael’s rope whips out. It’s long enough to swing into both fae’s legs. They crash to their knees, are up in an instant, but the damage is already done. Dicer’s illusion breaks, revealing them both to the
elari
.
My sword is in my hands, and I’m rushing forward already, yelling for Aren to swing right and Trev to swing straight ahead. Both their blind attacks miss, and they roll, attempting to get out of the way.
Aren makes it, but Nimael’s whip is wrapped around Trev’s calf. It wraps around his knees during his roll. He curses, swings defensively once more, and his
elari
attacker hesitates the second I need to get there.
My blade cuts through the air, clashing against the
elari
’s with an impact that rattles me to the core. The
elari
’s invisibility breaks, and Trev’s sword stabs upward, sinking home into the fae’s gut.
I don’t wait for his soul-shadow to appear. I whirl around to find both Nimael and the second
elari
closing in on Aren from both sides. Nimael has dropped his whip; I assume he’s invisible again.
“Back, Aren!”
He misunderstands my order, twisting around to swing behind him. I won’t get there in time, so I palm the pommel of my sword and thrust it into the air.
imithi
aren’t so great at following orders.
There’s nothing Aren can do about it, though.
“Are you two ready?” he asks, turning back to me and Trev. I nod, pull up my hood, then climb out of the canal behind the two fae. That’s when I feel a flicker of anxiety from Kyol. He feels my focus, my slightly elevated heart rate, and he knows that I’m moving now.
Relax,
I tell both him and myself. This should be simple. I don’t even have to read the shadows; I just have to point out what I see.
We’re halfway across the street. My focus is riveted to the narrow house’s single window. Fae don’t often use bows and arrows—their enemies rarely stay in one place and, many times, they’re invisible—but we’re in a part of the city that’s protected by silver. If I were Nimael and thought there might be a chance someone was hunting me, I’d have at least one bow stashed somewhere inside.
But he has no reason to use it on us, I remind myself. He doesn’t know we’ve found him. He’s here to recruit
elari
, and we’re just a few innocent, sludge-covered people crossing a street.
Suddenly, the front door opens. Three fae step out, and everything—the air, the rain, my heart—goes still.
• • •
“DON’T let them back in!” Aren yells. Before the last word leaves his lips, Trev’s already acted, launching a ball of flames from his hand into the door behind the fae.
“Bring Taltrayn!” Aren grates out. The order is unnecessary. There’s no stopping Kyol from coming. He felt the cold terror slide over me the second that door opened.
Aren grasps his sword in both hands and takes a step forward. “Where are they, McKenzie?”
“Shoulder to shoulder just outside the door.”
“I can hide you,”
a voice pipes up just behind us. Dicer. No surprise there.
Aren doesn’t hesitate.
“Do it,”
he says. To me, he adds, “Tell us when and where to swing.”
I nod, then both he and Trev are rushing forward. Dicer must be a decently strong illusionist. I see the moment the
elari
lose sight of Aren and Trev. Two of the three fae take a half step backward as they bring their swords in front of them. They don’t have humans to see through Dicer’s illusion, and they can’t fissure out of here. They’re screwed.
But the fae in the center with gray-streaked hair doesn’t look concerned. He doesn’t even unsheathe his sword. With the door burning behind him, he—
Nimael
—takes a rustic red cylinder from his belt and untwists a cap. A thin, coiled rope falls to the ground, then, with a flick of his wrist, the rope snakes out in front of him.
Aren and Trev are almost on him.
“Jump! Jump!” I scream, but they don’t understand, and with another flick of his wrist, Nimael’s rope whips out. It’s long enough to swing into both fae’s legs. They crash to their knees, are up in an instant, but the damage is already done. Dicer’s illusion breaks, revealing them both to the
elari
.
My sword is in my hands, and I’m rushing forward already, yelling for Aren to swing right and Trev to swing straight ahead. Both their blind attacks miss, and they roll, attempting to get out of the way.
Aren makes it, but Nimael’s whip is wrapped around Trev’s calf. It wraps around his knees during his roll. He curses, swings defensively once more, and his
elari
attacker hesitates the second I need to get there.
My blade cuts through the air, clashing against the
elari
’s with an impact that rattles me to the core. The
elari
’s invisibility breaks, and Trev’s sword stabs upward, sinking home into the fae’s gut.
I don’t wait for his soul-shadow to appear. I whirl around to find both Nimael and the second
elari
closing in on Aren from both sides. Nimael has dropped his whip; I assume he’s invisible again.
“Back, Aren!”
He misunderstands my order, twisting around to swing behind him. I won’t get there in time, so I palm the pommel of my sword and thrust it into the air.
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