Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 109477 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 547(@200wpm)___ 438(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109477 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 547(@200wpm)___ 438(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
“No. Wait!” The leader looked down at her in trepidation. “No! I didn’t know—”
A surge of power made Daisy’s eyes sting, and suddenly Tarian was in action. His sword swung so fast it blurred. The outline elongated, from a sword to a staff, razor-tipped at each end. He leapt over the fire, the shortest distance between him and the leader. Flame licked his metallic leathers and very cute, thick-soled boots. How was the guy always so damn fashion forward, even in something resembling armor?
The leader flung out a hand, and his fingers flexed. The other hand held the rock tightly to his chest. The sheen intensified, and a hazy, mossy green hue colored the air.
Streaks of black cut through, slicing away the magic.
“What—” The leader staggered backward, but Tarian was on him.
He sliced across the arm that held the rock. Fingers loosened as the hand and rock both fell to the ground. The leader screamed as the others in the area yanked weapons from their belts or bent to scoop them up from around the camp.
Tarian plunged his staff into the center of the leader and wrenched, quickly cutting off the howls of surprise and pain. The body slumped to the ground, and Tarian straightened, not even breathing heavily.
The others in the area fanned out, weapons at the ready, eyes tight as they surveyed the enemy in their midst. Tarian stepped foot over foot to grant himself more space, perfectly balanced. His staff twirled beautifully, a blur of light. He might have the swagger and arrogance of nobility, but he had the hands and footwork of a master swordsman.
“It doesn’t have to be like this,” one of the green-hued males said, trying to circle around to Tarian’s back. “There is plenty to go around. Despite what you did to Sharlo, we can still work out a deal.”
Tarian’s voice came out emotionless, almost bored. “Our courts might work out a deal, but you’ll be long dead when they do.”
“You think you’re going to best nine of us?” another fae scoffed.
The first hissed, as though willing his brethren to shut his mouth.
Tarian didn’t respond right away as they moved, the nine surrounding him, his staff twirling all the time.
“I’ll make it painless. How’s that?” he finally said, stilling in the middle of their circle. “Except for you.” He pointed his weapon at the fae in front of him. “You laid a hand on my property. You, I will kill slowly, with as much pain as possible.”
He stepped backward and thrust his staff. It plunged into the fae before he could get his sword up. Tarian ripped it to the side, ending any hope of his enemy healing, before stepping toward the next and swinging his staff around, blocking an enemy strike. Daisy thought he would finish that male, but instead he slid across the circle toward another, keeping them from pushing in on him too quickly. He dropped that one, swung to the next, and sliced. Back to the one he’d blocked.
He looked like a dancer, flitting amongst his enemy as though moving to a merry tune. His staff swung and struck, blocked or parried. Screams and moans filled the night. Firelight flickered against spraying blood or flailing bodies falling to the ground. None of the enemy had so much as touched Tarian, not even a nick. In no time at all, as promised, only one of the green-hued fae was left—the one that had struck and scratched her.
“I didn’t know,” he bleated, backing up. He held a non-glowing sword in shaking hands. “I swear it. I didn’t know! Sharlo told me to do it. It is his fault, not mine!”
“Sharlo is dead. You will atone for his sins.”
They moved farther into the night where the firelight couldn’t reach. The staff shortened into a dagger, the glow only bright enough to show Tarian’s hard, cruel eyes. His dagger shot forward, and then there was screaming. Howling. It went on and on, varying in pitch and ending in a gurgle. Still there was thrashing, as though the tongue and vocal cords had been ripped out for a little peace and quiet, but the pain continued on.
Not one to waste this precious distraction, Daisy rolled toward the collection of bodies and stopped near the first viable weapon. She trapped the hilt with her hip and sawed away the ropes from her wrists. Hands freed, she made quick work of the ropes on her ankles. That done, and with no time to spare, she hopped up, ready to grab one of these horses and go. The cover of darkness would shield her until dawn. It was the only option she had.
But as she moved to the horses gathered to the side, completely unimpressed with all that had gone on here, she registered the utter silence behind her. Not even animal life moved within the darkness, as though a big predator had moved in and they didn’t want to be noticed. She knew how that felt.