6. Rowan

Chapter 6

Rowan

I take an involuntary step back, my mouth suddenly dry. I can smell the sour reek of alcohol wafting off him, see the mad gleam in his bloodshot eyes. Gods, the whole room is suddenly more volatile than an explosives barrel, with one wrong move poised to set off disaster. And I’ve no idea what the right move is.

"We're not here to take anyone," I say, trying to keep my voice calm and level. "We only want to help. To heal the sick and injured."

"Lies!" the man roars. He takes another menacing step forward. The crowd begins to mutter angrily, their earlier unease transforming into something uglier, more dangerous.

"You already took my boy! Ripped him right out of his mama's arms. And for what? You see any fae around here? Any draken flying by?”

The whole point is that they aren’t here. I bite my lip to keep from saying as much. Somehow, I don’t think that part of the truth would be welcome.

“That’s enough now.” Rinity steps forward, her hands on her hips. There is no surprise on her face, just grim determination. "Go about your business, Loman. You know these here girls are just helping."

"Helping? Helping who? The special ones they chose to aid? The Spire takes our last coin and our children, and you want me to be grateful to these little whores for doling out dribs and drabs?” spittle flies from Loman’s mouth.

Alright. Time to go.

I exchange glances with Ellie and Trish, who give barely perceptible nods. Only problem now is that Loman is blocking the door.

I hold out my palms up toward the man and summon my most compliant, appeasing tone. “You are right, Loman. You don’t need us here. These supplies, they are yours by right. How about we leave everything we brought and you can decide what to do with it? You look like you may have a headache, too. We can give you something to ease the pain before we go, if you’d like?”

Loman’s upper lip pulls back into a sneer. "You want to ease me, Spire whore?" he says, grabbing the bulge in the front of his britches. "Here is how you can ease me.”

Disgusting.

I turn my head away.

“What, am I not good enough for you?” he demands, moving toward me.

"Bugger off," Ellie steps in front of me, shifting into a fighting stance that Loman doesn’t appear to notice. His mistake. Collin might be proud of being in the top five percent of enchanters for combat, but Ellie holds the number one spot. The moment Loman lunges at her, she grabs his wrist and moves, making full use of the man’s momentum.

The drunk bastard drops to his knees with a roar of anger, twisting himself to relieve the pressure on his wrist.

"The Spire whores who steal food from your mouths and murder your children are here helping us,” Loman bellows to the common room behind him. “Come tell them what you think of their help!”

"Better yet, come take up arms to defend against the fae,” Ellie shouts back at him. “Because Loman’s drunk ass sure isn’t doing it.”

Well, yes. That’s Ellie.

I cringe but come to stand shoulder to shoulder with her, letting my magic flo od my hands with iridescent light. There is not much I can do with it, but most people don’t know that.

Some back off. But not enough. Not nearly enough.

"You think we’ve not done our part?” a man roars as he pushes his way into the room, his friends on his heels. “Look here!”

Ripping off his shirt, the man twists around for all to see his flesh. He’s scared badly, marks covering his chest and back. Some of the stripes look to be from a lash, but there is also a puckered scar along his ribs that’s clearly from a weapon. "I paid my dues and lost a lung in the queen's fight!” he hollers. “And you know what I got for my troubles? A beating and a boot. The queen cares nothing for us. We are all just fodder. Take her down, I say!”

“Take her down!"

“Take down the queen!”

From commotion, to assault, to bloody treason. My heart pounds, my vision narrowing on the door to the common room, but it’s still blocked with people.

Rinity has given up trying to defuse this mess and is now trying to shield her patients, herding them toward the back door.

"We've no quarrel with you,” I shout. “We are going to leave, alright?"

No one is listening to me. More people are pouring in. Surrounding us.

“Show these cunts what you think of them!” Loman shouts. Even on his knees, he is a great deal louder than me.

Ellie finishes what she started and snaps Loman’s wrist. His shouting turns to babbles. But it’s too late.

A man to the right of me grabs a chair and swings.

I lunge to the side, trying to avoid the impact, but can’t. The force of the blow knocks me off balance. My ribs scream with pain as I hit the floor hard.

From behind me, I hear Trish's shrill scream and my heart clenches with fear.

"Get her out of here!" I gasp at Ellie, who is already drawing a knife from h er belt. She holds it up in a defensive stance before nodding and disappearing into the fray.

I push myself up from the floor, gritting my teeth against the sharp ache in my side. With trembling hands, I unsheathe my own dagger. For all the good it will do me.

"Teach the whores a lesson!”

A shove hits me from the side and I stumble backwards, crashing into a nearby table. The sound of shattering glass echoes in my ears as I feel something sharp pierce my side. Instinctively, I swing my knife and feel it make contact with flesh before slipping out of my grasp.

"You bitch!" I hear someone yell amidst the chaos. Strong arms grab me from behind and I struggle to break free, but more men surround me, their angry shouts blending together. They shove me back to the ground, tearing my tunic in the process. A heavy boot lands on my already bruised ribs, making me curl up in pain.

I brace for the next blow.

It doesn’t come.

Instead, a body suddenly settles atop me, its crisp mountain air scent at odds with the stench of the drunkards. Tousled brown hair brushes my face, muscled arms forming a shield around my head.

Kyrian. Gods.

He flinches slightly from the blows he now takes in my stead. Through the small space between his chest and the floor, I see men crumpling, their throats slit and gushing blood as Kai Grayson dances with his sword and shadows among them. Each movement is deadly. Precise. And utterly without emotion.