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Emerie’s body language made absolutely no change, and Wren’s humour brightened.

“Good. Your attachments aren’t deep.”

“Whatever you order is for the best of the guild. I would never question your decisions.” The lie fell easily from Emerie’s lips.

Bryce meant a lot to her, even if he unwittingly made her feel like a cheap hole to be fucked every once in a while. They’d shared other pleasant memories and had saved each other’s lives numerous times. They had problems, but not enough to truly deter her... she didn’t think. Or was she just being stupidly hopeful?

Even if she didn’t outwardly show it, Emerie was exceptionally self-conscious of her damaged appearance. The scars on her face and neck weren’t the only ones she bore, and there were many others that went soul deep.

She was also missing a chunk out of her. Although she’d willingly done it, had made that choice, it still lingered in the back of her mind that she was incomplete – and therefore unlovable in the long term.

Bryce was a chance for her to find some form of companionship along the hard road she’d taken. The fact that Wren had purposefully put him in harm’s way just to test Emerie didn’t sit well with her, although she had no other choice but to accept it.

With an unfeeling expression, Emerie waited to be dismissed, hoping their conversation would end. There was much she wanted to say, but couldn’t,wouldn’t.

“How’s your fear these days?”

Wren was aware she was going through a recent bout of trauma and mental recovery.

“It’s managed. Once my wounds healed up, I remembered why I stopped being afraid in the first place.”

Wren nodded, appearing satisfied with her answer. “The Elder’s team you have been assigned to will have your whip ready. Be careful in the rain, Emerie. The creature will have the advantage.” Then she inclined her head towards the door. “You may l–”

Just as she was about to thankfully be dismissed, hurried footsteps pounded up the staircase. The person didn’t wait for permission to enter, and knocked into Emerie as he passed her.

“Wren.” He stood in the same position as her. “The Duskwalker has begun its attack.”

“What happened?” she asked with a lack of ire. “I told everyone to hold off on the attack until our whip bearers were ready.”

“One of our bowmen accidentally unleashed an arrow into its chest. It grew enraged and tried to scale the wall.”

“Idiots,” she bit in return. “What Duskwalker is it?”

“It has a beak, that’s all I know.”

“The raven.” She spared a glance at Emerie, before shaking her head. “The winged one won’t be far away. They never travel without each other. It’s likely lurking in the shadows, waiting for an opportunity to push through the gates. Double the foot soldiers, don’t allow them through.”

“Understood, Head Elder.”

The man left.

“You.” Emerie didn’t think it was possible, but her back straightened further. “Tell the leader of your unit that I no longer care if it’s alive. Two will be difficult for you to battle against, but I want one of them. I don’t care which one, and I no longer care if it’s dead so long as I have one.”

“Understood.”

When she was given a nod to leave, Emerie finally escaped.

Now that she was alone, her eyes narrowed. Her lips pulled tight to one side as worry twinged.

Shit. A Duskwalker?

She’d signed up to slaughter Demons, not face an omen of death.

Rope? Check. Whip?Emerie tapped the whip loop on her weapons belt to make sure it hadn’t somehow unbuckled.Check.

Sword? Check.She didn’t need to feel for it, since it was smacking against the side of her thigh.

Four Elders in front of me? Check, check, and double check.