Onur was about to die. I had not a single doubt about that. Soandel’s man, Katil, was going to kill him to make sure that the lord exchequer wouldn’t be connected to the attack on Her Grace’s Favor. And no matter how I tried, I couldn’t convince myself that I didn’t care.

  Onur had put my people in danger. By rights, he’d been living on borrowed time since the moment he talked to Vestel. Now that I was here, with Soandel almost alone, Onur had served his purpose. His death would leave me a perfect opening to grab both Soandel and Katil, adding a wealthy councillor and possibly a lethal fighter to my flock.

  It was an excellent trade. I shouldn’t care — if anything, I should be pleased. But Onur was mine, and no mental gymnastics could make me accept losing what was mine when it was right in front of me.

  By the time I’d gone through those gymnastics, when I moved and began to Shift, it was too late. Katil was two steps behind Onur, a curved dagger in one hand and a thick bunch of folded cloth in the other. The killer reached out and—

  A dagger caught him, pommel first, in the side of the head. Before he ever got close, Herald had drawn one of her blades and whipped it forward, the golden glow leaving the weapon shortly after she released it. Its flight was so nearly perfect that I couldn’t say for sure if she’d meant it to hit with the blunt end, though I doubted it; Herald wasn’t one to shy away from killing.

  Blade or pommel, Katil literally didn’t see it coming. He still reacted in the split second between the dagger becoming visible and hitting him, beginning a duck-and-twist just as it Thwacked off his skull. It was enough to throw his attack off, and for Onur to turn and see the man only two feet behind him. Soandel began to turn in the same moment, a look of near panic on his face as the quick and silent assassination failed.

  Katil recovered quickly, but not quite quickly enough. By the time he’d turned his failed dodge into a lunge, Onur had a hand around Katil’s wrist and was snapping a kick at the assassin’s forward knee. At the same time Soandel was turning to run, only to be tackled by a shadowy Herald who wrapped an arm around his throat. Katil twisted and pulled his grappled arm back, turning his knee to block the kick as he pulled Onur in and twisted his wrist in an attempt to force the older man to either release him or be brought to the ground. Onur tried to choose neither, keeping his balance and strengthening his wrist, but two quick punches to the nose forced him to let go and stumble back.

  Katil tried to follow, leading with his dagger. Me yanking his leg out from under him put a stop to that.

  Shifting only took a second, but a lot had happened in that time. I hadn’t been quick enough to do anything about the first exchange, but I was quick enough to save Onur from a dagger to the gut. I didn’t even need to think about flaring my shadow; Instinct took care of that. With no restraints and all the power she could possibly want to draw on, she sent our shadow to blanket the small copse, plunging it into absolute darkness.

  Herald laughed, a distant, ghostly sound. Onur moaned, scrambling backward, and Soandel gave off a choking groan, kicking and flailing as Herald kept up the pressure.

  Katil didn’t give one single damn. I’d pulled his leg out from under him. He responded by pushing off with one hand to turn himself onto his back then scissoring his free leg down hard enough that when his heel struck my wrist I felt it. Not just a little, either. It wasn’t surprise that made me let go; he kicked me hard enough that the pain made my hand spasm, letting him pull his ankle free.

  I was sure that Katil couldn’t see anything. Instinct had spread my shadow wide and thick, mingling it with those of the trees, and no one but Herald or I should be able to see so much as the nose on their own face. Yet the assassin’s arm snapped out, and aiming by memory or sound he sent his curved blade spinning to bury itself in Onur’s gut.

  Onur curled up around it with a low moan, and Instinct went wild.

  My shadow pulled back and condensed then surged toward Katil, a tide of ink aimed to drown him in heart-stopping terror. But Katil had not stayed still. There hadn’t been a single moment since he began his approach that he hadn’t been in motion, and now he pushed off with his feet and his free hand, spinning to the side and landing on his feet facing me. In that one motion he’d also somehow found the time to draw the long, narrow blade he carried.

  As he aimed his blade at me a small furnace of magic flashed to life around his heart, and I knew that this man wasn’t just dangerous. He was a danger to me.

  Instinct didn’t care. My shadow lunged and whipped at Katil, and though he hissed and knitted his brow he didn’t so much as stagger. I hadn’t expected any less than complete fearlessness from one of the Council’s bodyguards, but it was still bloody annoying. He would have been much easier to kill if he’d fallen to his knees, and there would have been a short window before my magic took where I wouldn’t give a damn about him. Now I’d have to do it the hard way.

  Instinct was furious, but I was still in control. This man was far too dangerous to let Instinct take over. I needed to be smart about it. I hissed, ready to spit, but Katil immediately covered his nose and mouth with his free hand. His eyes were already closed — he was relying on his hearing anyway. I regretted for a moment that I hadn’t chosen Acid Spit for my last advancement instead of Grace; gruesome or not, it would have been dead useful.

  Rather than spitting I lunged. Katil danced back. His sword first licked out in a tight cut that barely missed my snout. Then he thrust forward, missing my throat by a scant inch before pulling back and sliding the edge along the side of my neck. The magic inside him flared, and I felt the steel bite into me. I jerked to the side and back, away from his blade, and he pursued.

  The man had made me bleed. His blade had sliced right through my scales, and now he was coming to finish the job. There was no anger there, no fear, barely even any excitement. Only a grim determination, and a professional, calculated economy of movement. He was a foot shorter than I stood at the shoulder, couldn’t have weighted more than a tenth of what I did, and he couldn’t see. Yet he came for me.

  I had sometimes wondered how any human could ever have killed a dragon. Before me I had the answer: the right combination of Advancements, skills honed to a razor edge, and sheer bloody courage.

  Gods, I thought. I’ll actually regret killing this one.

  And I was going to kill him. He’d injured Onur, perhaps lethally, and I couldn’t look past that. I even knew how to do it. It just needed some quick setting up.

  As I fell back and Katil came for me, I led him away from the other humans. Then, in a move that no one who was not literally familiar with me could have predicted, I Shifted.

  Katil instantly stopped, light on his feet, turning his head this way and that as I began to drift to his side. “I can hear you, dragon,” he said between gritted teeth as I circled him. “I know that you’re here. You didn’t fly off. And don’t think that I need to see to kill you — you’ve felt the bite of my steel already. I can smell your blood on the ground. But there’s no need for all that. We don’t need to fight at all. It can stop here. Leave my lord and the man Onur and go, and we will have no quarrel. All will be forgotten — an unfortunate misunderstanding.”

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  I heard him, but I didn’t listen. The words meant nothing; his death had been unavoidable since he hurt my servant. And now I was in position.

  Once I was between Katil and Herald, I Shifted back. At the sound of my feet on the gravel he executed a beautiful pirouette then lunged, his blade flashing with magic and sinking into my shoulder. At the same time, I was already lunging, myself. As I did I sprayed every ounce of venom that I had at him then sank my teeth into the shoulder of his sword arm.

  I bit down until I heard bone crack. Then I made one more effort, and my jaws sheared closed.

  Katil screamed, high and shrill. But even as his nerveless fingers fell from the sword buried in my flesh, his other hand snatched a hidden blade from inside his robe.

  I didn’t give him the chance to sink that blade into my neck. With a jerk that started from my hips and travelled past my shoulders, all the way up my neck, I whipped him to the side. His scream cut off, and with a wet, tearing sound he went flying. He smacked into a nearby tree with a dull Grunch, blood gushing from the ragged mess that was all that was left of his upper right torso. His shoulder and arm remained in my jaws.

  I turned to regard the three other humans on the ground. Onur was still curled up around the dagger in his belly. Herald was visible, breathing hard with Soandel pressed to her chest. And Soandel…

  As my shadow had withdrawn it had seemed to cling to Soandel and then remain as the link stretched and was broken. Now it was still there, and hazily, in the back of my mind, it dawned on me that it wasn’t my shadow at all — it was Herald’s. Herald had wrapped Soandel in her own shadow. And judging by how his struggles had stopped despite him still being conscious, it had worked. Soandel was conscious, but he wasn’t fighting. He didn’t even smell of fear.

  Herald could do what I could. Herald could break others to her will. That was either the greatest or the most terrifying thing imaginable.

  With the fight over I carefully laid down. Katil’s sword was still lodged deep in my shoulder. I could only imagine that I’d made things considerably worse by moving as violently as I had. The wound wasn’t bleeding as badly as it might have, but there was still a lot of blood, and it hurt like a right bastard, pulsing and throbbing all the way to my claws.

  As soon as I threw Katil aside Herald had pushed Soandel off her, and by the time I was on my side she was there, gripping the severed arm in my jaws and murmuring, “Drop it, Draka. Go on. Let go. You need to be able to talk.”

  It took real effort to release the limb — Instinct wanted to eat it. We were hurt, and meat was meat, as far as she was concerned. I was just grateful that Herald had thought of getting the thing away from me before I acted on one of Instinct’s less savory impulses.

  “Are you all right?” I asked heavily. I was breathing hard but evenly. I told myself that I’d be fine. That this was nothing compared to when Tark had stabbed me right through the chest. That hadn’t been in a damn joint, though, making my hand feel like it was being slowly crushed.

  “Yeah,” she said, focused on the blade stuck in me. “Not a scratch on me.”

  “And Onur?”

  She must have heard the anxiety in my voice, because she turned from the sword to look first over my shoulder then at me. “Alive,” she said. “But badly hurt. We need to get him help soon, but… Draka, I only have one potion with me.”

  “Then get Soandel to call his guards! You’ve got him, yeah? I saw you. You got him!”

  She blinked. “I… I think I did. I did what you do. I wrapped him in my shadows, and it drained my Heart. Just sucked it all away into him, and he stopped fighting me.”

  “Great. Herald, please. I’m all right,” I lied. God, it hurt! “I’m bleeding, but it won’t kill me. Help Onur, and have Soandel call his guards. I can’t stand the idea of Onur dying, but I don’t dare to move him, you understand?”

  “Yeah, I—” Herald looked at Soandel. “I understand.”

  She kissed me on the snout then tore herself away from me with visible effort. “Councilor,” she said as she knelt over Onur. “I know you heard. Call your guards. Then make up some excuse for why Katil should definitely be dead, and why it is a wonderful thing that we are here.”

  As she spoke she pulled out a bottle wrapped in thick, woven wicker from inside her short jacket. Holding it out in front of the wounded man she said, “Onur. I need to pull the blade out, all right? I am sure it is not your first time, but you should prepare yourself. It will hurt, and we need to move quickly once I do so that you do not bleed out. You know the procedure? Half in the wound, half down your throat.”

  I heard a pained grunt from Onur, which I took to be a “Yes.”

  “Good,” Herald said. “Let us get you on your back. I will try to be as gentle as possible.” There were some more pained groans before Herald continued, “Good. All right, Mister Onur. Let go of the knife. There. Good. I have it. On one, all right? Five, four—”

  On the count of three there was a choked off howl from Onur, followed by the sound of a bottle being uncorked.

  “There,” Herald said. “Almost over. Now drink. No coughing. Good, only a bit left. Very good.”

  While Herald tended to Onur, Soandel had gotten unsteadily to his feet and called loudly for his guards several times. By the time Herald got the potion down Onur’s throat, there was already the steady crunch of multiple boots running on the gravel.

  When the guards came into the copse carrying torches and lanterns and saw us, they immediately drew their blades, moving to separate the lord exchequer from the rest of us. Surprising everyone, myself included, Soandel put himself between me and his own guards. “Stop!” he ordered. “Stop, I said! She saved me! Katil went mad, or turned traitor, and the dragon saved me! Stand down, Sorrows take you all!”

  “But, my lord!” said a guard whom I recognized as having been on the inside of the gate. “They — the dragon and the girl — they’re not on the list!”

  “It was supposed to be absolutely secret,” Soandel sighed. He was doing a remarkable job of acting, really. I’d have believed him. “Lady Draka, young lady Drakonum, the new Lord Mercantile’s man, and myself. We needed to discuss vital issues and possibly resolve some differences. You understand? Only Katil was supposed to know.”

  He waved one arm regretfully toward Katil’s savaged body. “He drew his blade on me. I don’t know why. Lady Draka stopped him, and she’s wounded. So stop wasting time, and provide her and Mister O here with anything they need.”

  “Of course,” the bewildered guard said before turning to his four companions. “You heard Lord Soandel! Potions, and a stretcher for Mister O! Get to it!”

  “Captain!” the four said in unison. Two of them ran back toward the house, while one approached Onur and Herald. The last took a few uncertain steps my way.

  “Go on,” I groaned. I tried to put some levity in my voice, but it fell flat — it was surprisingly hard to sound casual with a sword in me. “I don’t bite.”

  The man looked from me, to the torn-off arm lying nearby, and finally to the distant lump that was Katil’s remains.

  “I don’t bite unless you deserve it,” I amended, and the man took another hesitant step, then a few more until he finally reached my side.

  “Captain,” I said, looking at the guard who remained with Soandel. My voice was choked with pain. “You’ll need to help him. That blade is in deep. In the bone, the joint — something. Don’t be afraid to brace against my chest if you need it.”

  “Go ahead, Captain,” Soandel said. “Help the lady.”

  The guard captain was less timid than his subordinate, but he still hesitated to grab the sword. He hesitated even longer before he put his boot on my chest, looking to me for permission every step of the way.

  “Don’t worry,” I growled. Another wave of pain shot down my arm as the pressure from his boot jostled the blade slightly. “If I object, you’ll know it. Just don’t try anything stupid, yeah?” I nodded toward his hand on the hilt of the sword. “Make sure that blade goes nowhere except out of me and we’ll get along jus— Oh! Jesus fucking wept!”

  To his credit, the damn blade came out in one smooth pull.

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