“There he is,” Kriska said, sharp metal escaping its case. “Our little prince. I was worried we’d lost you in the forest.”
“The trees!” I choked. My voice evaporated. My scream had used it up, the words nothing but empty air. I heard only the crunch of dirt as a pair of boots lunged. Bitter rust oozed from my tongue, and I realized I’d bitten it.
“Slúbil som, že ta zabijem, ak sa jej dotkneš,”Kye’s voice answered the pirate.
Kriska laughed, the sound too cheerful for the empty canyon air.“Tak pod skúsit. Plánujú sa pre nu horšie veci ako to, co urobíme my, drahý princ.”
Steel clanged against steel, echoing across the ravine.
The shapes hiding in the tree dropped to the ground, creeping in a slow circle towards Kriska and Kye. A blade sliced the air, dividing wind in half, and my gut clenched as someone hit the ground, rolled, and scurried to their feet again. Boots swiped and stomped across grass and dirt. None of them spoke, as if words were the weapons of men less disciplined, less composed—though their clothes swished and snapped, confessing when they moved.
A hard thud against the earth followed by a grunt stopped my heart, and a figure in black slashed the rope tethering my left hand. I cried out at the sudden slack in my arm, my stretched muscles burning as I rocked to the right. A hand caught my arm, steadying me, and I gazed up to find Kye, brimming with fury.
Somehow, he seemed brighter. Light flickered around the edges of his body, an angry glow under his skin. His face still bore the mask I’d painted, a half-skull cracked and faded in the hours since, illuminated in the fading sunlight.
A man disguised as a lost soul, come to claim another from Perpetuum.
Molten iron lit the air, so thick I could taste it.
His arm stretched between me and the pirates, his eyes forward, and I twisted to watch in horror as the three men moved in.
Burian’s eyes flashed, though they darted away, locking onto a crimson slash along his thigh. He limped behind his fellow pirates, sword drawn and teeth gnashed. Dirt and dust covered Kriska’s side, a cold fury in his eyes.
But it was Demyan who leapt for us.
Kye’s sword met his, the metallic clang ringing in my ears. Kye cast his blade to the side, swerving Demyan’s sword away, then curled a leg around Demyan’s ankle and shoved, sending him into the dirt. Kriska dove for Kye with a snarl, leaving Kye barely with enough time to turn and meet the pirate captain before Burian joined as well.
I watched them, three against one, my heart in my throat. I had no eye for sword fighting. I couldn’t weigh tactics or balance, footwork or posture. I could only judge what I saw.
Whether less talented than the others, or nursing the wound in his thigh, Burian wielded a cutlass, his strokes short and choppy.Kriska’s blade stabbed and slashed with simple efficiency—a skill trained but not honed. It didn’t need to be. He let Demyan and Burian push Kye towards him, then swiped at Kye’s back, forcing Kye to spin away.
Demyan moved like a dancer, his body a painting brought to life, graceful and smooth. His arm arced as he twisted, his feet a rhythm and song all their own. Slash, dodge, leap—the lines of his figure bent in artful elegance.
Demyan moved like a dancer, but Kye…
Kye flew.
He dipped and whirled so fast his feet floated off the ground, his arms a current of wind over water, the sweep of his blade a bright gust of air. The first words Prince Hadrian ever said to me fluttered in my mind.
Aren might be stronger, but Nikolaos will always be faster. He’s been as quick as a whip since the day he was born.
Kye’s advantage over the pirates lived in his speed, his instincts more acute, and as I glanced between the faces of our attackers, I knew the pirates saw it as well.
They pushed him forward and back, the clangor of their fight striking deep inside my ears. Burian pressed toward me and Kye dropped his guard to double back, forcing the man to dive away. Blood covered the pirate’s pant leg in a lustrous dark shine. He cried out as he ducked and rolled. Behind Kye, Demyan thrusted forward, and I shrieked a warning.
Kye twirled out of reach, tossing his sword in his palm, readjusting his grip.
“Poculi ste o rybom královi?”Kriska taunted, slashing.
Sliding away, Kye’s arm rose to clang against Kriska. Whatever Kriska had said, Kye didn’t take the bait. Brows furrowed, he shoved Kriska away, then stood before me, rolling his shoulders.
The laughter melted from the captain’s face.“Hladá svoju rybiu manželku,”Kriska said, turning his cheek to spit across the grass.
The numbers stacked against him, there was nothing Kye could do but parry their strikes. A cold chill invaded my blood as I realized Kye hadn’t made a single offensive strike.
Dipping below Demyan’s arm, Kye gained ground as the three pirates avoided colliding.
They turned, pressing in as one.
