Page 14 of A Blade of Blood and Shadow (The Ravaged Kingdom #1)

I pivoted and brought one sword down, striking the half-troll across the back. He grunted but didn’t collapse, which shouldn’t have surprised me. Trolls were notoriously difficult to kill.

I didn’t have time to strike again before the reptilian male attacked. I caught the flash of blades out of the corner of my eye and turned to deflect the hit.

I blocked the first blade, but he was too fast. His other blade sliced across my arm, stinging as it drew blood.

The scuff of footsteps took my attention, and I narrowly dodged another swing of the battle axe before Gorm rejoined the fray. I aimed a kick at his chest that sent him careening into a dumpster. The half-troll swung again.

This time, I had to twist so ungracefully to avoid his axe that I stumbled into a broken wood pallet. I felt the cost of that blunder instantly as a curved blade caught me in the side, slicing clean through my leathers.

White-hot pain erupted from my ribs, and blood soaked my tank top. I knew this wound was deeper than the last, but I couldn’t worry about that now. I needed to end the fight.

Crossing blades with the reptilian male, I drove him back across the alley without a single ounce of remorse. I moved faster than I ever had in my life, sending one of his wicked blades skittering into the shadows.

My arms burned with the effort of the fight, and I could tell from the spread of wet heat along my ribs that I was losing a lot of blood. Cold fear seeped into my bones as the other two rallied, but I shoved it aside and tried to focus through the pain in my ribs.

The reptilian male was skilled with two blades, but with one, he was lethal. I took more risks than I normally would in an effort to end the fight and sustained two more lacerations in the process.

I sensed the other two advancing at my back. If my plan didn’t work, the only way I was leaving this alley was in ribbons.

I feigned left, and the twitch of my opponent’s shoulder told me he’d bought my fake. Summoning all my hunter strength, I whipped my sword around and plunged it into his chest, shoving harder when I met resistance until I broke through bone .

Thick brown blood oozed from the wound, but I didn’t have time to yank my blade out. I saw the shadow of the half-troll’s axe along the brick wall in front of me and jerked to the side.

The blade missed me, but part of the handle came down on my shoulder as I twisted away. Pain lanced through my clavicle as I reached for my daggers, tossing one at the axe wielder. He grunted as my knife sank into his chest, though I knew it wasn’t a lethal wound.

Then Gorm advanced with a pair of long knives, and my heart sank. My muscles ached, my body was spent, and I’d lost too much blood.

Gorm’s yellow eyes glinted with anticipation, and I knew from the look on his face that he wouldn’t give me a clean death.

My dread redoubled as the half-troll yanked my blade from his chest and tossed it to the ground. My hands trembled as I drew two more daggers, retreating with my back to the wall.

These two were built like mountains. My puny blades were practically useless.

Raw terror clawed its way up my chest, making it impossible to think. My hands tingled — probably from blood loss — and I clenched my fists to restore feeling.

It didn’t help. The tingling was spreading up my arms and through my chest. Not numbness, I realized. Power.

As Gorm approached, I raised my daggers, and time seemed to slow. He lunged. I dodged, though the movement was much too sluggish.

Somewhere inside me, I felt a swell of release as that power whooshed out of me. I saw it collide with my attackers — a wall of solid energy .

Gorm’s fleshy cheek caved in as though I’d punched him, and his whole body trembled. The two males were thrown back on that wave of power, crashing into the wall behind them with crushing, lethal force.

I knew they were dead the instant they collided with the brick, their skulls caving in from the force of the strike.

All the power drained from my body, and I hit the ground on my knees. I could no longer feel the pain in my ribs, which meant I was going into shock.

My head swam, and my vision blurred. I emptied my stomach onto the cracked asphalt. The motion sent a surge of pain through my injured ribs, and hot tears pricked the corners of my eyes.

I could feel my concentration slipping. I tried to stand, but my legs wouldn’t support my weight, and I was too dizzy anyway. Blackness pressed in around me, and a tiny voice inside my head whispered that this was easier. It was easier to die than to spend my life running.

The scuff of boots on pavement silenced that voice, and I was instantly on high alert again. Magic hummed over my skin like a caress, and I reached shakily for my dagger, only to find an empty sheath.

Blindly, I skimmed a hand down my thigh, searching in vain for a weapon. But even if I found one of my daggers, I was in no shape to fight.

My eyes focused on a pair of polished black boots, and the scent of leather filled my lungs.

I sniffed again, and a hint of charred cedar reached me, carried on a cool night breeze.

It was a scent that brought to mind open skies, endless stars, and the soft hiss of wind in the trees — so unlike the filthy alleyway that reeked of garbage and death.

My head spun as I lifted my chin, the darkness threatening to pull me under. But I forced myself to remain conscious and look up into his face.

Stormy gray eyes stared back at me, and behind them stretched a pair of enormous black wings. Black faerie wings.

“Why hello, little huntress,” came a dark, sultry voice. “We meet again.”