Instead of replying, I fold my arms, shielding myself from his lustful view.
“Someone told me you have the serpent mark.” He straightens and allows another pass over me. “Show me.”
I dig the heels of my boots into the soft dirt and inwardly groan.
“I said it was impossible,” the man says. “The gods would never give our mark to a Kyanite. I came to see for myself.”
I don’t have time for this.
I cut to my left, heading for the front of the barn and escape. The man follows, his footsteps heavier and quicker. He snags my upper arm and yanks me around to face him.
“It’s rude to walk away when someone is having a conversation with you,” he growls.
My upper lip curls into a sneer as I react the way I was trained, yanking my arm down and using my left hand to break his hold. Surprise glints behind his stare as I jerk back the moment he clumsily reaches for me again.
“Touch me again, and you’ll die,” I say, my words laced with all the venom I have smothered since arriving in Astarobane.
“Feisty.” A wide grin spreads across his mouth. “I like that in a woman.”
I fold my arms again and level him with an icy stare. “Go, and I won’t tell my husband to kill you.”
“Your husband?” The man sneers. “Gabriel married you because of your mark. Trust me, he wouldn’t have married a Kyanite otherwise.”
The truth in his statement steals my breath, the reality that Gabriel wouldn’t have wed me.
I don’t care.
Even as I think the words, that hollow sensation increases.
“I thought you said you didn’t believe the rumors?” I ask after a moment.
“I didn’t until you broke my hold. Then, I saw the mark plain as day. You are the redemption. How does that make you feel?”
“The only thing I feel is irritation that you won’t leave.”
“See, that’s the thing about leaving.” He scratches at his jaw, peppered with days of growth. “I’m not planning to go alone.”
Trepidation slips down my body, as if the man trails his filthy, jagged nails along my back. Instead of showing it, I scoff.
The man’s eyes blaze as he steps closer and pulls out a worn dagger from the cracked leather belt at his waist. “You’re worth a lot of coin, but more if you’re alive. I’ll try not to scar your Kyanite face.”
He lurches toward me, his steel aimed for my arm. I jerk away, but not quick enough. The edge of his blade slices through my sleeve. I slam my right foot into his legs, dropping him to the ground. He grunts and stares up at me with enough hatred to level an entire city. It curls around my feet, travels up my body, and dives deep within me.
I have seen that look reflecting in the looking glass when I think about Roland.
The man stumbles to his feet and wipes at his mouth. “You’re no simple Kyanite, are you?”
Something shifts in his expression, a hardening as he strikes toward my face. I duck and punch him in the gut. He crumbles to the ground, breathing in quick, jerky gasps.
“Do you even know why you’re here?” he asks between labored breaths. “He’s only going to use you.”
Who?
Gabriel?
Doubtful. He’s rarely around.
The man staggers to his feet and reaches for me. I avoid him with a quick cut to my right. He whirls around and waves his dagger toward my neck. I strike his arm, and the weapon falls to the dirt.
