Everything in me wants to object, to stand beside him, to fight until the invaders go away. Something about the desperation glittering in his eyes keeps me from acting on it.
“I promise.”
He traces my cheek and nods, as if mentally preparing himself. He stands and joins the crowd of people. I hover behind the building and prepare to do exactly as he ordered.
Worry rises thick in my throat. Worry for Gabriel. For Kassandra’s family.
Smoke scorches the air, my lungs. I blink, willing away the watery eyes and the burning nose.
More Malachite invaders, with their blue face paint, pour into Astarobane. Too many to count. Too many to overcome. Surely, the Bloodstone warriors will fall to their might.
I remain where Gabriel left me, crouching behind a building like a coward. It’s what he expects of me. It’s what they all expect.
I am the Kyanite healer.
Humble. Meek. Quiet.
At least to everyone except Gabriel. With him, I’m far bolder than I am with his people.
Loose strands of hair cling to my cheeks as I crouch lower, desperately attempting to meld into the shadows. If these invaders don’t see me, they can’t attack. They cannot take me back to that horrifying day.
An arrow soars through the air, landing with a thud near my feet. I jerk my gaze around, expecting an invader to be nearby. Nobody stands there. Nothing moves other than the smoke thickening the air.
I whip back to face the building and sink further on my heels.
The fight draws closer, Bloodstone against Malachite.
Cries split the air. Blood stains the streets.
Over the throng of fighting warriors, I glimpse Gabriel. He wields his broad sword with deadly accuracy, his movements exact and quick like a viper.
“Father. Father.” The cry pierces my ears and sends slivers of ice down my back.
Adelaide.
She should be hiding.
“Father,” she wails again.
I gasp as I spot her in the opening, not protected. Vulnerable.
Tears trail down her ashen face, mingling with the soot on her cheeks. “Father.”
More arrows come from the left of the city, raining across the hot streets. They slam into warriors. Women. Children. Buildings.
Without thought, I rush from my hiding spot and hurry to Adelaide. Her eyes widen, and her breaths come in quick, jagged puffs as I take her into my arms.
“I want my father,” she says between sobs.
As Olah is my witness, I try to make it back to the spot where Gabriel ordered me to stay at. My legs don’t move fast enough. An invader spots me as I hurry across the square, the child clutched in my arms. Hatred glitters in his brown eyes as he lunges toward us, his sword raised.
Automatically, I lower Adelaide to her feet and duck his first swing. He never has time for a second. I kick his legs out from beneath him, connecting in the precise spot the mercenaries taught me. As he lands, his weapon falls from his hands. I grab the hilt, tighten my fingers around the grip, and drive it deep into his stomach. Surprise flashes across his face as he clutches at his sword.
Another Malachite warrior locks gazes with mine. I clutch that borrowed sword tighter, crouch, and prepare. He attacks much like the first man, driving his blade in a quick swing toward my face. I parry his move and don’t wait for his next before attacking. He blocks and draws a dagger from his weapon belt.
Heat fills my stomach, my veins, my bones as I concentrate on his movements. Avoiding. Blocking. Striking. His attacks keep coming like blades of death, seeking my blood, my hopes, my life.
I avoid the sword as he rips the smaller blade across my side. I grunt, skirt his next move, and the moment he leaves his midsection open, I attack, right for his gut. With force, I shove the blade into his stomach.
