It doesn’t matter at this moment. Right now, all that matters is that the horrific spectacle has drawn our other attackers’ attention away momentarily.
I seize the opportunity to swing my dagger, aiming the tip at the nearest immortal’s neck. It lands true, the razor-sharp blade slicing into flesh without resistance, embedding deep.
Blood sprays everywhere as the male topples, his hefty body trapping me as he takes his last breaths. In the background, the poisoned attacker’s screams don’t abate, a gut-wrenching sound to behold, no matter who is suffering. Zander once said it took fifteen minutes for his parents to succumb.
I struggle to free myself from beneath this dead weight. Pan sees and scrambles to help me onto my feet. With my boot on the corpse’s shoulder, I grimace and yank my dagger from his neck, my hand slick with his blood.
The agonizing screams cut off abruptly, courtesy of the third male and his sword. Now he turns to us. “Who are you?”
I reach for Pan. “He told you already. Just a baker and her servant.”
“I don’t think so. I heard you two talking.” The male moves cautiously, forcing us into a dance around the fire. “That’s the king you’re traveling with, the traitor they exiled from Cirilea, isn’t it?”
“I’ve never met any kings, exiled or otherwise.” My bloody dagger is out in front of me, my free hand gripping Pan’s forearm as we shift away together. “Why? What have you heard about what’s going on?”
He pauses, as if deciding whether to play this game. “That King Zander tried to surrender Islor to Ybaris and make feeding off mortals illegal, but his younger brother stopped him with an army.”
Is that what’s floating around? It’s probably what Atticus is telling the public. He’s trying to win their fealty after he’s stolen the throne. How many versions of misinformation will make their way through Islor before this is all over?
“That doesn’t make any sense. None of you can survive without mortal blood, including the king.”
A knowing glimmer sparks in his eye. “Don’t you mean none of us can survive?”
I grit my teeth against the curse that wants to slip out, but it’s too late. I’ve made my mistake, and it seems he was hoping for it.
“I was in Cirilea a few months ago. I left the city before the Ybarisans arrived, so I didn’t see this princess, but I’ve heard she’s a real beauty. Hair that’s black as night, eyes as light as a morning sky.” His gaze narrows. “A drop of her blood as toxic as ten thousand viper bites.”
I’ve watched enough sparring sessions from the castle balcony to know this guy moves with the precision of a trained soldier. We have no chance of outmaneuvering him. I can only hope to outsmart him, and he doesn’t seem as stupid as the other two. He’s a raider who keeps his ear to the ground.
“This is Queen Isla’s ring, isn’t it?” He holds up his hand. My ring sits on his pinkie. “The prince gave it to you when he proposed.”
“A scumbag who knows his history. How charming.”
“What’s he talking about, my lady?” Pan whispers.
“Nothing.” I squeeze his forearm, meeting his eyes. “When I tell you to, run.”
“What? I can’t—”
“If you know who I am, then you know what I’m worth,” I say loudly, drowning out Pan’s protests. I release my grip on him and edge in close to the fire. “Land, gold, a lordship.”
The male’s step falters.
I smile. “Oh, you hadn’t heard that part yet, huh? But you’ll only get it if you bring me back alive.”
“And why would the king care one way or another if you’re alive?”
“Because we have unfinished business. You know, with me killing his parents, and nearly killing him. I guess Atticus wants to make a spectacle of my execution.”
“That would make sense.” I see the wheels churning in his eyes.
That’s when I strike, kicking the stack of burning logs toward him. “Run!” I scream, giving Pan a shove. “Run, or you’re dead!”
With a wild look in his eyes, he sprints off.
The time I hoped I’d bought is not enough, and when I turn back, the male is already charging toward me. But his balance is off as he beats down the flames that grip his pants, threatening to spread, and I use that to my advantage, lunging as Abarrane taught me.
I aim for his chest, but he shifts at the last moment, and my dagger catches his sword arm, slicing deep across his biceps.