Total pages in book: 215
Estimated words: 206625 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1033(@200wpm)___ 827(@250wpm)___ 689(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 206625 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1033(@200wpm)___ 827(@250wpm)___ 689(@300wpm)
It chuffs twice, and I spare a glance down at its claws.
Or should I say…paws.
“Oh, fucking hell. You don’t have any claws?”
I turn back to the three men just as Jack roars a battle cry and sprints toward me. I don’t hesitate. I whip my blade across the rapidly closing space between us, and the dagger finds its mark in the shoulder of his sword arm. His sword falls as he hits his knees, crying out this time in pain.
Good.
But Oren and Tynan have charged at the same time, and they’re almost on me. I fling my second dagger at Tynan and catch him in the thigh, slowing but not stopping him.
Oren swings for my neck and I duck, unsheathing another blade and slicing him along the ribs just like I did during our challenge. My ankle isn’t going to let me kick, or even land a decent punch, so it’s up to my blades.
He recovers quickly and pivots with the sword, catching me at my stomach in a clean slice that would eviscerate me if not for Mira’s armor. Instead, the blade skims the scales, sliding right off me.
“What the hell?” Oren’s eyes fly wide.
“She’s destroyed my shoulder!” Jack cries, stumbling to his feet and distracting the others. “I can’t move it!” He clutches the joint, and I grin.
“That’s the thing about having weak joints,” I say, palming another blade. “You know exactly where to strike.”
“Kill her!” Jack orders, still clutching his shoulder as he backs away a few steps, then turns and runs in the opposite direction, disappearing into the tree line in no time.
Fucking coward.
Tynan jabs with his sword and I spin away, white-hot pain stealing my sight for a heartbeat before I swipe backward, plunging my dagger into his side, then pivoting, shoving my elbow up into Oren’s chin as he attacks, rattling his head.
“You fucking bitch!” Tynan screams, pressing his palm against his oozing side.
“Such an original”—I take advantage of Oren’s dazed expression and slice open his hip—“insult!”
The move costs me, and a scream rips from my throat as Tynan’s sword cuts into my upper right arm, along the direction of the bone.
The armor keeps it from penetrating my ribs, but I know I’ll have a hell of a bruise tomorrow as I wrench myself away, blood flowing freely as I peel myself off the sword.
“Behind you!” Xaden shouts.
I pivot to see Oren’s sword held high, ready to separate my head from my shoulders, but the golden dragon snaps its jaw and Oren stumbles to the side with terror-filled eyes, as if he’s just now realized that it has teeth.
I sidestep and knock the handle of my blade against the base of his skull.
He crumples, unconscious, and I don’t wait to see him fall before turning back toward Tynan, who has his bloodied sword ready.
“You can’t interfere!” Tynan shouts at Xaden, but I don’t dare look away from my opponent long enough to see how the wingleader reacts.
“No, but I can narrate,” Xaden retorts.
He’s obviously on my side here, which confuses the hell out of me, since more than anything, I’m certain he wants me dead. But maybe it’s not my life he’s protecting but the golden dragon’s.
I chance a quick glance. Yeah, Sgaeyl looks pissed. Her head undulates in a serpentine motion—a clear sign of agitation—and those narrowed golden eyes of hers are focused on Tynan, who is now trying to circle me like we’re on the mat, but I won’t let him get between me and the little golden dragon.
“Your arm is shot, Sorrengail,” Tynan hisses, his face pale and sweaty.
“I’m used to functioning in pain, asshole. Are you?” I raise the dagger in my right hand just to prove that I can despite the blood that runs down my arm and drips from the tip of my blade, saturating the wrap across my palm. My gaze drops meaningfully to his side. “I know exactly where I sliced into you. If you don’t get to a healer soon, you’ll bleed out internally.”
Rage contorts his features, and he moves to strike.
I try to flick my knife at him, but it slips from my blood-soaked hand and lands with a thud in the grass several feet away.
And I know my bravado won’t be enough to save me now.
My arm is shot. My leg is shot. But at least I made Jack Barlowe run away before I died.
As a last thought, that’s not a bad one.
Just as Tynan reaches up to two-hand his sword, preparing for a killing blow, I catch a glimpse of movement to my right. It’s Xaden. And rules be damned, he steps forward as though he intends to stop Tynan from killing me.
I barely have a moment to register surprise that Xaden would ever save me, for any reason, when a gust of wind slams into my back, and I stumble forward onto my destroyed ankle, flinging my arms out to keep my balance and grimacing at the shooting pain.