The attempt at camaraderie rolled off Belanor like a drop of water on wax. “I am the future King of the Seelie Court. Are you disobeying my command, Prince Laurelis?” he called, his voice getting swallowed by the night.
I had no trouble detecting the tone he used, though. It was one I’d heard often toward the end of my imprisonment with him, and hearing it again made my resolve harden—I wouldn’t be going back. I had already decided, before I’d even gotten free, that I would rather die than be at Belanor’s mercy again. Slowly, I leaned to the side and reached down, taking my heels off one by one. The gravel was freezing against the soles of my feet.
“What the fuck is she doing?” I heard one of Laurie’s friends whisper.
“You could be the king of this entire dimension and I still wouldn’t bow to you, Belanor.” Laurie had dropped all pretense now, and his voice dripped with dislike. I’d never seen him look at someone with such contempt.
It had the effect of dropping a match on a puddle of gasoline.
Belanor’s eyes blazed, and he turned his head to address the line of Guardians behind him. Spittle flew from his mouth as he hissed, “Seize them.”
Now I did swear.
Several of the guards peeled away from the others and started coming toward us, crossing the expanse of driveway between us as if it were a battlefield. Their leisurely pace felt like an insult. Gil dropped into a squat, baring his teeth in a soundless hiss. I gathered all my power to me in an instant, instinctive reaction, and I held the letter opener up. It wasn’t a sword, but it could still slice throats.
“Spare as many as you can,” Laurie said to the warriors behind us. His eyes were darker than normal, a slate gray instead of silver. It struck me, then, the reality of what he was doing for me—these had been his guards, once. His people. Of course he wouldn’t want to kill any of them if it could be helped. Laurie’s friends probably knew faeries in the Royal Guard, as well.
I glanced over my shoulder, wondering if I’d see resentment in their faces. That was when I saw that every single member of Laurie’s inner circle had brandished weapons between the flaps of their cloaks or coats. Surprise flickered at the back of my mind when I saw the dark-haired male holding two guns, since it was unusual for a faerie to embrace technology of any kind. Cell phones were the exception, and it was typically only the younger ones who had them.
In the next breath, I realized I’d been wrong about all of them having a weapon—there was one amongst Laurie’s friends who didn’t appear to be holding anything. It was the female with the bright lipstick and the Ice Queen expression. I looked up from her empty hands and found her gazing back at me.
“Do you have any way of defending yourself?” I asked bluntly. I was aware of the others watching, but I didn’t acknowledge them and neither did the Ice Queen.
Her lovely face still didn’t shift or reveal anything as she replied, “Not against a legion of Guardians, no.”
“I’ve got Caroline,” the lumberjack put in, stepping closer.
I ignored him. With a single movement, I flipped the letter opener around and pointed the hilt toward Caroline, as he’d called her. “It’s not much,” I said, “but it could come in handy. Oh, wait, hold on.”
Using the fingers my shoes still dangled from, I lifted my dress. Then, with my other hand, I rammed the letter opener through the layers of lace and linen. The sound of tearing mingled with the noise of clanking armor. Once there was a sizable hole, I clamped the thin blade between my teeth and tore the skirt wide open, exposing my legs to the open air. Finished, I grasped the letter opener and held it out to Caroline a second time.
The faerie accepted it slowly, her painted fingernails peeking out from the cloak. “What will you use?” she asked.
I shrugged. “I’ll improvise. I’m good at it, don’t worry.”
Caroline said nothing else. Facing forward again, I glanced at Laurie, curious whether he’d be using his abilities to stack the odds in our favor. His mouth was tight as he gave a barely perceptible shake of his head. “We need to surrender,” Laurie said under his breath.
My nostrils flared. “What?”
Gil was looking at Laurie, too, along with all the people standing at our backs. This time, the prince addressed everyone. “We can’t leave this driveway. Surrendering will buy us time. Do you trust me or not?”
It was a rhetorical question; the first cluster of Guardians was almost upon us. Laurie wanted time? Fine, I’d get him some time. But I sure as hell wasn’t surrendering. Not to Belanor.
Barefooted now, I walked toward the oncoming cluster of Guardians. The moment I was close enough, I brought my arm back and used my entire body in the violent strike forward. Just as I’d planned, I jabbed the first male in the throat with one of the heels I held.
I didn’t put enough force in my arm to impale him, but he choked and doubled over. Then I was swinging out with the heel in my other hand, doing the exact same thing to the Guardian attempting to come up behind me. Blood sprayed my face again, and I blinked. Oops. The heels must’ve been sharper than I thought—it was lodged in the side of his throat now. He’d heal, I reminded myself.
But now I was down one weapon.
Make that two, I thought as I made the same mistake again with the third Guardian flying at me, his sword upraised to hit me with the butt of the hilt, most likely.
The instant he went down, I saw Belanor make a furious gesture. Several more faeries separated from the multitude.
“Cock Sucker,” I snarled, whipping my head around. The redhead raised his eyebrows and pointed both his index fingers toward his face, as if to say, Me? I held out my hand and twitched my fingers. “I know you have a knife in one of your boots. Loan it to me and I won’t kill you later for that comment you made in the hallway. I’d been planning on using your fear of geese to break you, stopping only when you called out for your mommy, but now I’m feeling generous.”
I had finally gotten the inner circle’s attention. I could feel every single one of them staring at me as I kept my hand stretched out, waiting for the male to make his choice. He didn’t take long—two seconds later, he stooped and reached into his cloak, pulling out a dagger with a dragon-shaped hilt.
“For what it’s worth, I think I’m starting to see why there’s fuss now,” the redhead offered as I wrapped my fingers around it.
I met his gaze. “Good. Remember that if I get you killed in the next ten minutes.”
Then the next wave was on us. I reacted too slowly, and the bearded male moved in a blur, cutting down a Guardian just as he tried to bring the butt of his sword down on my skull. The smaller male hit the gravel, blood flying through the chaos. There were already two more to replace him. I uttered a mindless, ragged battle cry and whirled, raising the knife I’d commandeered.
Despite weeks without training, my muscles knew what to do, and I gave myself over to the familiar movements. By some miracle, I managed not to fall or get stabbed. There was nothing beautiful about this dance. It wasn’t delicate or graceful, either. It was just adrenaline, and blood, and shouts of pain. As I fought, I remained painfully aware of my bare feet, vulnerable to every heavy boot or patch of ice. I swung again and again, always confronting a new face or an oncoming assault.