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Lu, in between bouts again, put his hands on his knees and lowered his head. The Santouri on the edge of the action nocked another arrow.

“Luthri!”

His head whipped up at my shout and followed my pointing finger to the source of danger. Understanding smoothed his features, then resolve hardened them once more. Another warning sprang to my tongue.

Aaand he was already moving. I scurried after him, sword in hand. My body had never been so burdensome, but if I could hold the gang at bay long enough for him to dispatch the problem, we’d be golden. Teamwork, right?

The archer made note of our trajectory and adjusted her aim.

Lu pulled up short. Momentum sent him into an oddly graceful twirl, the arrow striking centimeters from his foot.

The next arrow stared me down, steady in the archer’s grip, as she trotted backward in an attempt to put more space between us. Luthri was having none of it.

He darted forward, weaving left and right.

Uttering a grunt of annoyance, the archer threw down her bow and reared up, pawing at the air with hooves the size of dinner plates before charging.

Despite the expansive cobblestone square, the space between them disappeared in an instant.

Luthri went in low. The Santouri cocked back an arm, hand folded into a fist, putting the entirety of her stalwart build behind it.

I didn’t see them make contact. Force slammed into my back like a freight train, sending my legs crumpling.

I’d gotten too caught up in Luthri’s battle—how could I have forgotten that I had a fight of my own?

Having the good sense to roll, I narrowly avoided another strike.

Wood struck the space by my ear. My attacker raised their weapon again—a railing spoke or chair leg serving as a bat—and the hit reverberated through my crossed arms.

I clenched my jaw against the pain and swiped for their unprotected ankles, latching on when I felt fabric and calf. They toppled, falling harder than I had, and their head cracked on the stone. A strange spasm ripped through their body, and they didn’t move again.

Remorse would have to wait. Gulping air as though I’d never breathe again, I crawled to where my sword lay abandoned on the ground.

My hand found the hilt, and my gaze lifted, searching for Luthri.

He straddled the Santouri woman’s back, hanging onto her thick, braided hair for dear life as she bucked and spun. Laughter bubbled up; I choked it down.

The last few combatants circled like vultures. Threatening them with the sword was enough to make them think twice—apparently, Savreen wanted the townspeople dead as much as we did. Grunts and clatters abounded out of sight, but I couldn’t look, not yet.

Behind the line of assailants before me, the twins had reached Savreen and her last line of defense.

My grip on the sword tightened. Hohem and Vyrain exchanged blows with their opponents, dodging wood and steel to clap back with fire and fists.

They were exhausted, but Savreen’s eyes were wide with fear now.

Satisfaction loosened some of the tension in my body.

She deserved to feel fear in the end. Bitterly, I hoped she realized how wrong she’d been.

One of Savreen’s guards struck out. As Vyrain evaded his attack, Savreen darted in to follow it with a jab of her sword that caught him under the left arm.

He made a small sound and stumbled to one side.

Hohem was there, slipping into the opening she’d made with ruthless efficiency.

For the span of a breath, the two stood nose to nose.

Hohem’s hands snaked around her throat. It looked gentle, but that wasn’t taking into account fae strength.

He yanked. Her neck yielded. As if the universe reset, everything stopped. Villagers dropped like stones where they stood. A breeze whistled through the open space, cooling perspiring skin and filling aching lungs with the refreshing scent of sand and brine.

It was done. Over. We won.

Grin overtaking my face, I sought out Luthri.

He still perched astride the Santouri ’s unmoving body, confused.

My shuffling approach had him springing to his feet.

Up close, the threat the half-animal fae woman posed was undeniable.

Armed or unarmed, it made no difference with a body made of muscle stacked upon muscle, all of it deadly.

Now that the flood of adrenaline faded, my limbs shook. Things I hadn’t allowed myself to think or feel in the thick of it came rushing in with a vengeance: I killed at least one person. We’d been sliced up, smacked around, and shot at with arrows. Luthri, nearly trampled.

Upon reaching the man in question, I gripped his face in my hands.

A mix of fae, Portuguese, and English fell from my lips as I shook him.

“Valuen’s sake. What in the world were you thinking?

You could have fucking died. No, why do I ask?

Of course, you weren’t thinking. You absolute idiot. First-class nincompoop. Porra-louca!”

“I’ll admit it went a little better in my head,” Luthri acknowledged wryly. “But it was worth it to hear these love names. At least, I can only assume they’re love names.”

A half-mad laugh escaped me. Watching me closely, expression tinged with worry, Lu’s hands folded around mine and moved them to rest over his heart. His touch kept the deep chill of shock at bay, and the rhythmic thump-thump grounded me. I closed my eyes .

“They’re not dead, are they?” He eyed the fallen figures around us uncertainly.

“Probably not.”

“We should… Er…”

My spine snapped straight. Of course, we had things to do. Day would soon give way to night, and we would need a plan for moving forward. I pulled out of Luthri’s grip. When my knees buckled, he caught me, slinging an arm under mine for support.

“So you can hold me up,” he stated with a wink. “Otherwise, I might fall.”

Yeah, all right, he could have his little joke.

Together, we made our way to where Hohem and Vyrain waited by Savreen’s corpse.

The twins rested on the ground, one kneeling and the other sprawled in front of him.

They must have been drained to not even have the energy to stand.

I started to ask if they were okay, but it occurred to me that the position was unnatural.

The words caught in my throat as terror seized me.

They weren’t resting at all. Hohem held his motionless brother in his arms, clutching him to his chest. Vyrain’s arm trailed off Hohem’s lap and onto the ground, limp and pale. Scarlet blood stained Vyrain’s side, Hohem’s lap, and the stones beneath them. Too much blood.

I held onto a delusional hope that it wasn’t one of theirs, that perhaps they’d gotten in the path of an arterial spray by accident.

But then Hohem’s face tilted upward. Tears tracked two shimmering lines through the layer of grime coating his cheeks.

Upon seeing us, his lips moved. No sound came out but a broken inhale.

Facing forward once more, he let his hold on his brother relax, wordlessly answering the question I couldn’t bring myself to voice.

For Vyrain’s head drooped to one side, blue eyes open but unseeing.