Hundreds of Veythar were crossing the bridge, their cloaks billowing behind them. They carried no weapons—no blades, no spears—yet their presence was just as intimidating.
My heart hammered against my ribs as I searched the mass of dark cloaks for the one man who had never let me stand alone.
Talon stood at the center of his kin. The tattoos snaking up his neck glowed a blue so fierce it verged on blinding white. His jaw was a hard, immovable line, his fingers twitching at his sides. With a sharp jerk of his arm, a cry erupted from behind me. I turned to see the guard writhing on the planks, his legs kicking in a childlike tantrum.
“Stop,” the man croaked, his face turning a bruised purple. “Tell him to stop!”
The second guard stood frozen, his sword trembling so violently it rattled in his grip.
As the Veythar reached the square, the mob parted, heads bowing. The Veythar strode through wordlessly, their faces set in identical masks of stone.
Talon reached the base of the stairs, his presence radiating a heat that finally pushed back the chill in my bones.
“Evander,” Talon boomed. “You hide behind a twinkling image. Are you too cowardly to face the one you tried to have murdered?”
A thousands murmurs broke rippled through the crowd, a young man close to the platform shrieking, “they tried to murder a Veythar?”
On the wall, Lord Evander’s watery image cleared its throat, his features rippling. “No, Master Veyr. But I suppose if it came down to a fight, I am at an unfair disadvantage.”
Talon’s head tilted, his eyes finally locking onto mine. The intensity in them nearly brought me to my knees.
“You have no qualms taking advantage of the weak when the fight is rigged,” he countered, taking the first step up the platform. “Two guards against one bound woman, backed by an angry mob? That is not an execution, Evander. That is a homicide.”
The remaining guard balked, extending his sword in a shaky hand until the tip rested just below Talon’s chin.
Talon did not flinch. He walked directly into the blade, his eyes a calm storm. The steel pierced the skin of his neck, a single bead of blood blooming against the glowing blue of his tattoos. Behind me, the spirits let out a high, mournful squeal of protest.
“Master—” the guard stammered.
“You do not frighten me,” Talon said. His words were directed to Evander, but his gaze never left mine. “But you almost made a diabolical mistake. One that would have ended with the decimation of your entire realm.”
Evander’s projection blanched, his wrinkled face leaning forward until his beard was cropped from the frame. “Is that a threat?”
Talon smirked. He jerked his head to the side, and the spirits answered, surging forward like a wave of shadow to slap the sword from the guard’s hand.
“No,” Talon said softly, taking the final step to reach me. “It is a fact.”
He flicked his wrist and the inky wisps dove to my hands, tightening around the cuffs until the silver snapped and clinked to the soaked wood.
A single shadowy figure swept past my cheek with an ethereal sigh, and I leaned into the cool, ghostly touch, a sob of relief catching in my throat.
Talon’s hand settled atop my head, his fingers stroking the wet, matted curls away from my forehead.
“Little flame,” he murmured.
I looked up at him through wet lashes, my chest aching with the sudden urge to break apart.
“Talon,” I croaked.
His eyes flashed, his hand tightening slightly in my hair.
“Get off the ground,” he commanded, though his voice was thick with an underlying tenderness. “No one should ever see you on your knees except me.”
I scrambled up, my fingers digging into his leather-clad legs for leverage until I could slump into his side. His arm banded around my waist instantly, hauling me flush against him, tucking me under his chin as he turned to face the city.
“Haelen!” he shouted. “Acknowledge this: while this means war, innocent lives will not be taken by my hand.”
I rested my head against the sharp line of his jaw, breathing in the scent of him—smoke and rain.