Page 57

A stone water well and an overturned bucket stood beside the creek. Tufts of willow dime bloomed along the water’s edge, the herb plants sucking up a ray of afternoon light.

There Nicu stood, his head tipped toward the treetops. You’d think he’d been admiring the setting—not angling his chin to dodge the tip of a dagger.

A blade played beneath his jaw, and a lazy arm slung across his collarbones, rooting him in place.

We’d thought this place abandoned. We were wrong.

The slice of Aire’s sword pierced the quiet. Not that it made a difference.

From behind Nicu, a rogue voice tossed out a threat. “Drop it.”

15

Fantasy

The heavy folds of a scarf covered the lower half of the stranger’s face, offering only a few details, like deep olive skin and black brows slashing through his forehead. Not the bland coloring of an Autumn citizen.

A vicious decoration slithered up his right ear. A piece of pewter jewelry with a row of spikes lining the outer shell. An earring that looked like a weapon.

I stared at it for too long. Lines crinkled around his eyes, hinting at a smarmy grin, while Nicu’s throat bobbed against the knife. A rondel dagger, from the looks of it.

I lunged, only to be jostled backward by a steady hand. Dammit, Aire!

My voice hacked at the oaks. “Let him go!”

“Who, then? This pretty little wren?” The stranger’s blade nipped Nicu’s jaw. “Nah. I like this songbird right where I got ’im.”

I growled, “Who the fu—”

Aire swooped in front of me. “Release the boy.”

“Piss off, knight.”

He’d noticed the signs of Aire’s rank more quickly than I first had.

My throwing axes would help if I knew how to hurl them.

Aire, on the other hand, did know how to throw. Didn’t he? Did he have my weapons on hand somewhere in the labyrinth of layers he wore? He could fling down his swords, satisfying Nicu’s captor, and then stun the prick by whipping out an alternative.

I thumped my ankle against Aire’s. When that failed to get his attention, I stowed myself behind him and muttered between his shoulder blades. “The axes—”

“Shh,” he ordered.

My soul groaned. In the future, we needed to be more in sync.

“Out where I can see you, wench!”

I wound around Aire’s side. “Who are you calling a wench?”

The stranger cocked his head, getting a better look at me. Ugh. “Well, well, well. Ditched the Spring carnivals and sought Autumn sanctuary, did we?”

“Ditched that bar of soap, did we?”

Beside me, Aire swore. Yes, that might have been an idiot move on my part.

The stranger snickered. “Testy. Not a born fool, but some kind of nature freak. All you need’s a set of wires and a stage—”

An axe flew. His reflexes shifted before it could clip his elbow and knock his arm from Nicu. The hatchet whizzed past his ear as he jolted our friend with him, the weapon’s bit slamming into a tupelo trunk.