Page 3

Chapter two

ATALIIA

The first blow landed across my right cheek bone, which was fine—it wasn’t the first time it had happened, and I was used to the pain.

It was the second punch that really pissed me off.

A fist to the back of my head that, truthfully, I should have seen coming. I should have known it wouldn’t take long for a friend to run to his aid.

Not very sportsmanlike , I thought to myself as I rose from the tavern’s floor, dusting off my knees before wiping the blood from my split lip. But then again, I couldn’t blame them. These were men that had something to prove, so I didn’t expect much of a fair fight.

It was probably my fault anyhow. I had been beating the shit out of them for months now.

So, that one, I’d let them have.

But I would not give them another.

I crossed my arms, smirking as the two men circled me. They towered over the body I wore and still, they had no chance of winning this fight.

But they didn’t need to know that.

“You should have told me you needed help, I would have gone easier on you,” I quipped, stepping to the side as the fist of the man I picked the fight with flew past my right cheek.

“If you could do me a small favor”—I leaned back a half inch, dodging another blow from his sparring partner—“and aim for my left side next time, I would appreciate it. I would prefer to have two black eyes, than one broken cheekbone.”

In unison, they lunged for me and I slid to the ground just before they made contact, rolling out from beneath them as they collided above me.

A chuckle vibrated in my throat as the crowd that had gathered around us, started yelling bets at the barkeep.

“You two don’t fight together often, do you?

” I asked, tilting my head as my lips split into a grin.

I watched them limp away from each other, groaning as they turned back to face me.

“I am going to shut that whore mouth of yours for good,” the first one spat, pulling a small blade from his boot as a feral smile slid across the lips of his comrade.

I clicked my tongue.

“That is no way to talk to a lady. Didn’t your mother teach you any manners?

” I questioned, my voice sickly sweet as I slid my hands behind my back and pulled two karambits from their leather casings.

I kept my arms crossed at the dip in the base of my spine, the silver hair that flowed from my head gently kissing the tops of my finger tips.

I liked this body.

It had become a harbinger of violence to the scum of Nethkar. Small and slender enough to be so unassuming, to seem so vulnerable and weak.

It was absolutely lethal.

Though, I must admit, it was the hair that had quickly become my favorite part of this skin. It really made a statement when the moon-drenched locks were stained crimson with the blood of males.

The men lunged again, this time with an added fury that burned behind their eyes. I danced around their blows with ease, my body moving in perfect synchronicity with the rhythm of their rage-fueled attacks.

It was almost too easy.

As the first man’s blade sliced through the air, I spun on my heel, bringing my karambit up to meet his wrist. The sharp edge slid through flesh and tendon like a hot knife through butter.

His scream filled the tavern as the blade clattered to the floor and he clutched his now-mangled hand.

Only a few more seconds and it would have been lying on the floorboards next to his knife.

The second man slashed wildly at me with a knife I hadn’t seen him draw.

I parried each strike with my blades, the clang of metal on metal ringing through the tavern.

The gathered crowd cheered and jeered, their voices rising with each traded blow.

I let the man push me back, feigning weakness, until my back was nearly against the wall.

He grinned, and the satisfaction dripping from him told me he really thought he had me cornered. “Not so cocky now, are you, cunt?” Spittle flew from his mouth as he hissed the question and I did not hold back the gag that rolled up my throat at the heavy stench of his breath.

I smiled, a slow, feline curve of my lips, and laughed—a sound that rang out through the tavern like the peal of a bell. “I’m just getting started.”

I ducked under his next slash and surged forward, burying my knee in his groin.

He doubled over with a grunt and I brought my elbow down hard on the back of his neck, dropping him to the floor.

I straightened and flipped my hair over my shoulder, glancing over at the first man who was cradling his ruined hand, his complexion turning a sickly grey.

“Do you know why I picked you?” I asked, taking a step toward them. “It’s men like you that create the need for women like me.” They glared up at me, their faces twisted with hatred as they rose to their feet.

“You talk too much,” the first one growled. “Let’s see if you’re still smirking after we rearrange that pretty little face of yours.”

“And I suppose”—I glanced at his hand, gesturing my blade toward it—“you plan to do that one-handed?”

They rushed me— again .

They truly, never learn.

I spun between them, dropping low to the floor as my silver hair fanned out behind me.

The first man’s blade sliced through empty air—where I had just been standing—as I threw my arms out to the side.

I felt the tearing of flesh as my blades ripped through skin and muscle on the backs of their thighs, tendons catching and snapping on the curved tips of my knives.

Collapsing to the ground, they crawled away from me as I stood, slowly rising to my full height.

They pawed at their fresh wounds as the unmistakable scent of blood flooded my senses.

“I’ll kill you for this,” the second man spat as I closed my eyes, sucking in a deep breath as the tavern fell silent around me.

I took a step forward, opening my eyes as I began to circle around the men, watching them writhe on the floor in pain.

“You couldn’t kill me if you had a thousand lifetimes to try,” I sang with a sharpness that could have sliced through bone.

Their eyes widened as I took another step closer, crouching down beside the man I had started this fight with and tracing the tip of my karambit along his stubble-covered jawline, drawing a thin crimson line.

He whimpered pathetically.

Typical.

These men were nothing but frightened little animals.

“You thought you could take what you wanted, hurt who you wanted, and no one would stop you?” I asked, my voice low and menacing.

“Please,” he whispered, his eyes frantic, finally realizing his place. “Have mercy.”

I laughed, a harsh, bitter sound. “Mercy? Like the mercy you showed those women when they begged you to stop?”

“Stupid bitch, you know nothing, cannot prove anything,” his friend spat as I turned toward him.

I watched as he tried to crawl toward the door.

In a second I was on him, my knee pressed into his chest as I held the point of my blade against his throat. He froze, barely daring to breathe.

“I know exactly what you’ve done,” I hissed. “I have seen the scars you’ve left, heard the cries and the horror stories of the women whose lives you’ve shattered.”

I leaned in close, locking my gaze on his fear-dilated eyes.

“If you ever lay a hand on another woman,” I whispered, “I will find you. And I will end you. Slowly. Painfully. Until you beg me for the mercy of death.”

Releasing him, I stood, watching dispassionately as both men struggled to their feet, clutching their wounds. They backed away, keeping their eyes locked on mine, then scurried into the silent, crowded room.

“What?” I snapped at the faces staring up at me in horror. The space broke into motion; the sound of feet scuffling against floorboards and tankards clanking against each other echoed throughout the room as drunkards began to scatter.

“Ataliia,” a voice called from behind me and I rolled my eyes at the sound.

I dragged a blood-stained hand down my face, groaning as I turned to see Elric, the captain of the king’s guard, standing with two of his men flanking each side of him. They both looked so small standing next to Elric’s tall frame and broad shoulders.

He was the picture of order and perfection, like always—as put together as a man could be.

His tight black curls were cropped close to his scalp on the sides, his golden armour glowing against the black and emerald leathers that popped against his melanated skin.

His thick dark brows pulled together as he glared at me with deep hazel eyes.

It was always a look of worry with him, as if we were seconds away from invasion.

“Hello, Captain,” I drawled, tilting my head as I grinned at him.

“How can I assist you on this beautiful night?” I asked, sliding my blades back into their sheaths as I shoved past his men, moving toward the tavern’s entrance.

I stepped into the open air and sucked in a deep breath, bringing my fingers to the cheek that had already begun to swell.

That will definitely turn black , I thought to myself as I began my walk back to the castle.

“Ataliia!” Elric shouted, his pace quickening as he rushed to my side. “We need to talk. You cannot be doing this night after night.”

I stopped, turning to face him. “Are you going to arrest me?” I asked, annoyance rising.

“I should , but—”

“Then there is nothing to talk about,” I snapped, stepping around him and continuing my ascent toward the bath I desperately needed.

He called my name again but this time I didn’t stop to face him, just waved a hand over my shoulder as I slowly slipped back into my own body.

The body that did not let me forget—no matter how long I stayed outside of it—the pain I held just beneath its skin.