Bekiratag — Kira to those who had inexplicably adopted her — woke in silence and darkness. She was a light sleeper — in the Silver Spurs, she’d had to be. She sat up slowly, putting her feet on the floor and listening intently. The silence wasn’t complete — her lover was still breathing softly behind her, and the building was old. The wooden beams and boards shifted and creaked, and the stones groaned softly as they heated and cooled. But that wasn’t it. She was used to those sounds, but now there was a creak outside their room that just didn’t belong.

  Sometimes a guest would be moving deep in the night, going to the latrine, or to get a drink of water from the barrels that stood by the stairs on each floor. But this didn’t have the right sound, somehow. Kira couldn’t explain it to herself. But she had a gut feeling that told her that this wasn’t just the sound of someone walking softly. This was someone trying to go entirely unnoticed, and failing.

  Gather yourself, girl. That doesn’t mean that they’re up to no good, she chided herself. They could just be extra considerate. But Makanna had told them all to be careful; she’d been attacked in the street, and they didn’t know who’d been behind it. Ardek’s “minions,” a mix of children and young adults that he’d gathered to spy and run errands for the House Drakonum, had spotted several different people watching the inn, or following the members of the House or their staff when they ran errands. Nothing had happened yet since the attack, but everyone expected a follow-up or retaliation. And there was no way to tell what form that might take.

  Kira sat absolutely still, her chest moving so slowly that she couldn’t hear her own breath, and listened intently. The misplaced creak came again, closer this time, and she gently shook Ardek awake.

  “Hmm?” he groaned softly, then whispered “What is it, little sparrow?”

  Little sparrow. Whenever he said it, she couldn’t help but smile, and she did so now despite the knot in her belly. Soon after they’d first kissed, Ardek had asked her about terms of endearment in her homeland. She hadn’t quite understood, so she’d told him what her mother used to call her when she was little. Hearing the man she was sleeping with call her that would be uncomfortable if he wasn’t so sweet.

  “Someone, ah…” She searched for the words. “Someone walk like thief in hall.”

  His arm found her easily in the darkness. It looped around her waist, and his stubble prickled as he kissed her hip. “Probably just a guest using the latrine. Come back under the blankets, love. It’s cold without you.”

  She gently but firmly pushed his head away. “I worry.”

  “All right.” A frisson went up her spine as he kissed the small of her back, and then he was sitting beside her. “Light the stone, love, just a little.”

  The creak came again, right outside their door, as Kira channeled a little magic into the lightstone the lady allowed them to keep in their room. When she looked back Ardek was intently focused on the door. He’d picked up his sword from beside the bed, still in its scabbard but loose and ready to draw.

  The lock shattered as something slammed into the door, only the latch holding it shut. Kira let out a surprised scream, and Ardek leaped forward, putting his shoulder to the door with a shout of “Alarm! Alarm!” At the same time a scream, high-pitched and horrified, came from somewhere below them, followed by more banging and screaming from other parts of the building.

  There was a curse from outside, and whoever it was slammed back into the door, forcing it halfway open.

  The man trying to force his way in was big. He was much taller than Ardek, muscular and with a braided beard. Kira recognized him as a guest who’d taken a room that day. He had a wicked dagger in one hand, and looked at Kira with frustration. No anger. No hate. Just annoyance that things had gone sideways.

  He was stronger and heavier than Ardek. That much was clear. Mercies be blessed, he must not have had a strength Advancement. Even without it he would have that door open in another moment or two, and judging by the dagger he wasn’t there to inquire about their health. And while Ardek had many virtues, while he knew how to use a sword, while he could fight, he was no fighter.

  Neither was Kira. But she didn’t want to die. She’d thought about it, during the bad years with the Spurs. Especially toward the end, when the raiders would go out and return with empty-eyed farmers and horse breeders. But then Lady Draka had taken her. She’d brought Kira away from the Spurs, who’d spat at her feet and cursed her for a soft-hearted coward when she refused to fight. The dragon had kept her safe from Karakan’s interrogators, and given her a place among people who respected her and were kind to her. She’d given Kira a chance to simply be a healer. To be proud, and happy.

  There had been times when Kira wanted to die, but those times were past. She had far too much to live for. So she did the only thing she could. She “screamed like a banshee,” as Lady Draka would call it, and threw the precious lightstone at the intruder.

  Kira was no fighter, and she wasn’t a big woman. But, she’d done plenty of physical labor, both as a shepherd's daughter and as a mercenary, and she’d learned to throw a stone as a child. She launched the three-pound lightstone as hard as she could, and it bounced off the man’s nose.

  With a pained, noseless scream of “Sorrows be fucked!” he fell back, and the door slammed shut behind him.

  The moment the stone had left her hand, Kira had turned around to drag the bed toward the door. She was halfway when quick steps pattered down the hallway outside. The man with the ruined nose cursed. Metal cut flesh, followed by a thump of someone being struck or kicked, and then a gurgle and liquid gushing onto wood. A heavier thump, and silence.

  Ardek held the door closed. When he looked at Kira there was such courage and determination in his eyes that she swore she fell in love all over again, right there and then.

  He made to speak, but a voice from outside the door beat him to it.

  “Are you two all right?” Makanna asked. “The bastard’s dead, and I need to move on. Please tell me that you’re both safe!”

  Kira didn’t quite understand all the words, but the voice and the tone were clear enough. Ardek opened the door and said, “We’re fine, Mak. Damn shaken, but none of us got hurt.”

  “Good. I won’t tell you to stay here, but there’s more of them.” Mak looked inside the room and locked eyes with Kira. In the light of two stones, one in her hand and one on the floor, she looked like a nightmare, a monster in human form. Blood ran down her face, and her sword arm and nightshift were drenched in it. “Stay safe, Kira,” she said, then, to Ardek, “You too! Keep yourself, and her, safe!”

  She was gone before either could respond, disappearing back the way she’d come with light running steps and a cry of “Stay in your rooms! All guests stay in your rooms!”

  Now that the immediate danger was over, Kira heard sounds coming from other parts of the inn. Shouted words that she couldn’t understand, screams and thumps. People were fighting. By the sound of it, people were dying.

  Ardek looked so brave. He stood in the door, sword in hand, looking up and down the hallway outside, and when he was satisfied he only asked her, “Do you need to get out there?”

  She was sure enough that she understood. She picked up the lightstone, which had rolled to a stop by the dresser. “Healer,” she said, trusting that he’d understand. And he did.

  “Stay behind me. If I say hide, hide. If I say run, run. Understand?”

  She nodded, dimming the lightstone so it was only barely enough to see by. “Understand.”

  They quickly pulled on the nightclothes that they’d discarded so urgently the previous evening. Then she followed Ardek into the hall.

  Kira was used to death. She looked clinically at the large man who lay outside the door, and determined that he was beyond saving. His right arm had been severed at the elbow; his throat cut to the spine. The blood that pooled on the floor and had sprayed the walls and even the ceiling was black in the low light of the stone, and there was so much of it that Kira didn’t bother checking for signs of life. Not even with the power of the Hearts would she have been able to help him. “Go,” she told Ardek, and they moved on toward the stairs.

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  Downstairs, Mak was yelling, indistinct, furious, and threatening, but it didn’t sound like she was fighting anyone at that moment. They moved to go down, but rapid steps from above made Ardek push her back, his sword ready to meet whoever might be coming. To their relief it was Val, followed closely by Tam. “Upstairs is clear,” Val hissed when he saw them.

  “Second floor is clear, we think,” Ardek said. “All the doors but ours are closed.”

  Val nodded, then waved Tam onwards and went to move on, but Kira ran to stop him.

  “Hurt!” she said, grabbing Val’s arm with her free hand. He stopped, looking at her in surprise, then looked dumbly at the arm she held. There was a deep cut on the outside of his forearm, where the skin is thin and close to the bone, and blood ran freely, dripping from his fingers.

  “Oh,” he said, raising his eyebrows. “I blocked an axe. Thought I caught the haft.”

  Kira was already healing it, doing just enough to stop the bleeding, when Tam looked over his shoulder and gasped.

  “You said you were fine!”

  “My love, I thought—”

  “How is this fine? Kira, help him!”

  “Mister Tam, she is!” Ardek hissed. “But Mak is down there on her own.” His words were punctuated by another round of threats from downstairs, including some words that Kira was pretty sure Lady Drakonum shouldn’t be using.

  “Right. Right. Val, look after Kira. Ardek, with me.”

  “Tam, I can—” Val started to protest, but Tam would have none of it.

  “Stay, and let her finish! Don’t you dare follow until she says she’s done all she can! That goes for you as well, Kira.”

  “Understand,” she muttered, then grabbed Ardek by the shoulder and pulled him down to kiss him. “Be careful, love,” she whispered in her own language.

  “Promise, little sparrow,” he answered, and then he and Tam were off down the stairs.

  “Go slow?” Val asked Kira when they were alone. She’d gotten back to healing his arm, but he clearly didn’t like the idea of simply waiting.

  She looked at the stairs and considered. She’d healed on the move before, though on flat ground. “Slow, slow,” she said, then started walking, focusing on healing and relying on Val to steady her as she held onto his arm.

  As they went, Mak shouted again. Kira could understand her now that they didn’t have the stairs and a floor between them. Mak had said, “I’m giving you one last chance to surrender!” Then all hell broke loose.

  Three men, all of whom had taken rooms the previous day, were cornered in the common room. They’d chosen to make their stand on the stage where the new man, Avjilan, the hunter who had almost killed Kira once, sometimes sang. Facing them were Mak, Tam and Ardek.

  It would have been comical if the situation wasn’t so serious. Mak was one of few women shorter than Kira. Tam wasn’t much taller than his older sister. And Ardek, though he was of fairly average height, had a slight build. They looked like two children and a teenage boy facing down three grown men. And the cornered men were the ones who looked afraid.

  Val and Kira coming down the stairs seemed to set the whole thing off. As soon as the scene came into view, one of the cornered men picked up the stool that stood on the stage and flung it at Mak. As it was about to hit she stepped to the side, her free hand snapping up to catch it out of the air. She let it drop to the floor with a clatter.

  Everyone else was already in motion. The other two men were charging. Tam had started moving as soon as the invader picked up the stool, while Ardek was moving up more cautiously. Val pulled away from Kira with a shout of, “Battle is joined!” and ran to join the fight. And Kira was left standing there, stunned. She understood that the inn had been attacked. Of course she did. But she didn’t expect to see a small battle in the common room of what was, in effect, her home. She barely saw what unfolded before her, so it was no wonder that she didn’t hear the woman sneaking up behind her. Kira didn’t even know that she was there until she felt the edge of a blade against her skin and an inescapable grip on her arm.

  “Not a sound.” The voice that murmured in her ear was bright, and sounded far too young to be holding a knife to Kira’s throat. The pressure of the edge increased as Kira was pulled toward the front entrance. “No sudden movements, either. We’re going out the door, and then you’re going to cooperate, and you won’t get hurt. Understand?”

  “Un— understand,” Kira choked out, careful not to speak too loudly or to move her throat too much. There were many things she could heal, even on herself, but a slit throat wasn’t among them.

  The woman pulled her steadily toward the door, and Kira’s mind raced. She couldn’t let anyone take her. She couldn’t. She wouldn’t. Lady Draka would be out of her mind with worry, and Ardek, sweet Ardek… but what could she do? She had a blade to her throat, the woman’s grip was bone grinding, and Kira didn’t want to die.

  The door was locked, but the woman had a key. When she released Kira’s arm to unlock, Kira imagined pushing her other arm away and running. Then she felt the blade bite into her skin, and she froze. She could just as easily imagine failing utterly to push that arm away, and feeling that edge cut through her throat, her blood gushing onto the floor, draining into her lungs… the terror stole her breath, and she didn’t move a fraction of an inch until her captor dragged her through the open door.

  It was raining. Of course it was. It had been raining for weeks, and it felt like it would never stop. All Kira was wearing was her hastily thrown on nightshirt, and she was soaked and shivering in seconds.

  The woman whispered in her ear, low and quick, as she pushed her toward the street that led west from the square on which the inn sat. “We’re going for a run. I’m going to let you go. You’re going to run in front of me, and I’m going to tell you when to turn. And believe me when I say that I’m faster than you, and that if I have to run you down, hamstring you, and carry you, I will. So don’t try to flee. Understand?”

  Understand? The woman spoke so quietly, and the rain and Kira’s own heart were so loud, that Kira barely heard three words out of five. She knew and understood half of those, and it was even worse since she was trying not to slip or stumble on the wet cobbles and cut her own throat on the blade that was already drawing blood. Mercies, how was she supposed to understand?

  Kira’s mind raced, desperately trying to piece together a sentence, when the knife bit deeper and she woman hissed, “I said: do you understand!?”

  “No!” Kira yelped, panic forcing her to say something, anything. “Don’t — I don’t understand! Karakani, I — My Karakani bad! Don’t understand!”

  “What?” the woman hissed, and Kira felt the burn of her skin parting, blood trickling down her throat before the rain washed it away. “You trying to—? Sorrows take you, I don’t have time for this.”

  Kira sighed with relief as the blade vanished from her neck. Then a cruel grip on her shoulder spun her around, and Kira had a moment to see a tall woman with short hair and a flat nose before every ounce of breath was driven from her. Pain exploded as the woman drove a fist into her gut, and she fell to her hands and knees on the cobbles, retching and fighting to take a breath.

  “Don’t try anything. I don’t wanna— just don’t,” the woman said, pulling Kira half-upright on her knees by the hair. She knelt down, maybe to throw Kira over her shoulders.

  There was a meaty Thud, and the woman grunted.

  “Fuck you doing?” a high, young voice called.

  “Yeah, fuck you doing? That’s the boss’ woman!”

  “Get off her, snipe!” A stone skittered across the cobbles, missing by several feet, but it was followed by more.

  “Fuck off, brats!” the woman shouted, moving again to pick Kira up. The moment she released Kira’s hair, Kira went limp, letting herself collapse bonelessly.

  She couldn’t fight, but she could do nothing.

  “Think you’re clever?” the woman hissed. She kicked Kira hard enough to send her rolling back a few feet, then gave off a surprisingly girlish yelp as a stone struck her somewhere. “Who threw that? I’ll—”

  The sound of stones hitting cobbles or flesh came faster, and she yelped again.

  “Piss off, snipe!” The kid couldn’t be older than six or seven by the voice. “Ain’t taking Miss Kira nowhere!”

  Clinging to the lightstone like a lifeline, Kira fought to breathe. She fought to ignore the pain in her stomach, and in her hip, where she’d been kicked. She fought to ignore the shame of using the distraction Ardek’s minions were providing, letting the children put themselves in danger. She focused on her gratitude. She couldn’t let this woman take her. She had to slow her down, delay her somehow, until Ardek and the others came for her.

  A selfish part of her hoped that her captor would go after the kids. They were quick, and clever. They’d get away. And if the woman moved away from her, Kira could run.

  “Goddamn brats,” the woman muttered, half furious, half disbelieving. “Goddamn brats are— Ah!” She yelped again, but this time she grabbed Kira hard enough around the arm that Kira screamed, lifting her half off the cobbles and bending to put her arm between Kira’s legs, successfully throwing her onto her shoulders.

  Kira couldn't see the lightstone anymore. It was in front of the woman, while Kira dangled limp behind her. But she still held the stone, and she couldn't drop it. The thing was worth a fortune. Certainly more than Kira herself. More importantly, it belonged to Lady Draka, and it felt like a connection to the dragon. She had the irrational thought that as long as she had it, she was safe.

  From behind, Kira saw a small shadow running toward them with silent steps, barely splashing in the pools that dotted the square. Metal glinted in the shadow’s hand.

  Kira’s captor rose and took one step forward as the shadow crossed the last few feet between them. It resolved into a small boy. He had a short blade in his hand — a paring knife, perhaps. But the woman must have heard him, because she turned quickly.

  She had a blade of her own, and she was a fighter of some kind. He was just a boy.

  “Kid, don’t—!”

  Kira did the only thing she could. Even half stunned, she filled the lightstone with magic, and the square was cast in white light, bright as day. The woman cursed in surprise, covering her eyes. So did the kid, but he swung wildly with his little knife, plunging it into the side of the woman’s knee, then took off in a panicked sprint.

  The woman screamed, high, pained, and horrified, and dropped Kira as her leg buckled.

  Kira landed on her shoulder, pain fanning out across her back and up her neck. She still kept a death grip on her lightstone. Beside her, the woman who’d dragged her out with a knife to her throat fell to her hands and knees. Well, one knee.

  “My knee!” the woman beside her wailed. “My fucking knee! I’m gonna—”

  Kira swung her lightstone as hard as she could. It struck the woman in the temple.

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