Page 82 of Feralheart

The second man swung around, took one gaping look at me, and bolted. I shot magic after him, incinerating him on the spot. Only ashes remained, drifting down to settle on the ground.

A feral grin stretched across my face, and blood roared in my ears as I turned to Eradin.

I’d just killed two men for a woman who’d spilled water on my boots and informed me I wasn’t her prince.

And I’d do it again.

Blood dripped from my blade onto the carefully cultivated grass. My hands didn’t shake, though they should have. I’d killed two men outside of crown sanction for reasons I couldn’t name in any official report.

I wiped the blade clean on the dead man’s jacket and turned back to her.

She stood frozen, her blade still raised, blood speckling her gray dress. Her eyes were too wide, her breathing too fast.

A problem. I’d just created a significant problem.

The efficient thing would be to report this. Call the guards. Let them handle the cleanup and the investigation and whatever needed to happen next.

I didn’t call for the guards.

Her chest rose and fell. The blade trembled in her grip, catching moonlight with each small shake. A talon, somehow fashioned into a blade.

“You—” Her voice cracked. She swallowed and tried again. “You just⁠—”

She couldn’t finish.

When training took over, you executed. But she’d never seen anything like this. Nothing close enough to smell the blood.

Heat seared through my chest.

She looked down at the remaining body and back at me. Her knuckles whitened on the blade’s grip.

She was bleeding from a cut on her forearm where one of them must’ve clipped her. Not deep, but enough that blood was seeping through the fabric of her sleeve.

“You’re injured,” I said.

Her gaze dropped to her arm like she was surprised to find it there. “It’s fine.”

“It needs⁠—”

“I said it’s fine.” Her voice came out harder than before, snapping me back to the present. To who we were. Prince and commons. Not allies. Not anything.

I stepped back. Right. Of course.

“They’ll send more.” I kept my voice neutral, stating a fact. Whoever wanted her dead had resources. Two assassins meant serious coin, serious intent. “You should stay in your quarters. Don’t leave without an escort.”

Her laugh came out bitter. “An escort from where? My fellow commons? We’re down to four, but I’m sure one of them will volunteer to die with me.”

Fair point. “Then stay inside.”

“And when the race starts?” Her chin lifted. “Should I stay inside then too?”

I opened my mouth, but what could I say? She was right. If someone wanted her dead badly enough to send professionals, they’d find another way. The Scorching would give them plenty of opportunities.

The thought made my jaw ache. “Then you learn to fight better than that.” I nodded at her blade. “What you did was instinct, not skill. Instinct runs out.”

“Why did you follow me out here?” Her voice came out raw. Not angry yet. Just shocked.

“I saw the men trailing you.” True, but not the whole truth. I’d been following her first.