Page 61 of Onyx Cage: Volume II

When the three soldiers shifted their attention to Davin, Rowan moved in quickly to catch them off guard. Spinning away from her attacker, she switched opponents in an unexpected move, bringing her blade down hard on his sword arm.

He dropped his weapon, clinging to the exposed bones with his other hand while she turned back toward the rebel she’d been fighting before. Her hair whipped through the air like flames, her sword flashing like bolts of lightning as she fought.

She made quick work of the next man, gutting him with her short sword before he could even call out in surprise. Her blade was stuck in his ribcage, and she struggled to pull it free.

The man from before took advantage of her distraction, lifting his sword in his left hand and raising it high in the air as he charged forward.

He was fast, adrenaline and fury fueling each of his movements. In two steps, I was at his back, and the sound of his neck breaking practically echoed through the valley. He fell at her feet, his blade barely missing her leg.

My pulse galloped in my chest as I scanned her small frame for injuries, trying to determine if the blood spatters on her gown were hers or if they belonged to the dead men on the ground.

She met my gaze, her spring-green eyes softening a fraction as she shook her head in answer to my unspoken question.

Then she was moving again, flying past me. The sound of clashing steel was far too loud. Another rebel had gotten too close, and she’d intervened just before his blade was in my back.

Der’mo. I was always too distracted when she was in danger.

I barely spun in time to see the man barrel into her. She cried out as the weight of his body knocked her to the ground. Grabbing hold of his shoulders, I avoided the blade sticking through his torso as I threw him away from her.

Her face was twisted in pain, her hands covered in blood.

My heart beat furiously in my chest, time slowing down while my vision narrowed to the singular point of the blade embedded firmly in Rowan’s abdomen.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

No.

My lemmikki was hurt.

Again.

Because of me.

Again.

Blood seeped around the carved hilt, staining her pale blue gown with crimson.

She didn’t cry out, didn’t sob, didn’t react at all except to widen her eyes in surprise.

Somehow, her silence was almost worse than her screams would have been.

I knelt at her side while calling for her cousin.

I knew basic field medical care, but that wouldn’t be enough for a wound this deep. Gallagher, though. Hadn’t they said he was training to be a healer?

But how advanced was his training?

It would have to be enough, since it was only us and the corpses here—the men I wished I could raise from the dead just to kill them more slowly the second time around for hurting what belonged to me.

For hurtingher.

Gallagher was immediately at her side, along with Avani. Korhonan brought the blanket for her and Davin helped him spread it out while I lifted her over it.

Her fingers were wound into the sleeve of my coat, clutching the fabric like a lifeline as I was forced to loosen my hold enough to lie her on the ground.

She inhaled sharply through her teeth, still too quiet, still far braver than soldiers twice her size.

The fabric pulled at her wound once she was flat, so I worked at tearing it without jostling her. I was by no means squeamish, but fury had bile rising in my throat at the unnatural sight of the dagger protruding from her skin.