Black Moon Draw(50)

“You would take on all nine of us, Shadow?” another Knight asks.

“I would take on any man who threatens what is mine,” he replies firmly. “You all have done that.” He’s moved between the others and me, with Wolfie at his side.

I glance at my hand. To my surprise, there’s writing, but it’s a little too dim to read. I tilt it to catch some light from the torches around the Square Table and squint.

This is a trial.

“That’s it? Some obscure Magic Eight ball fortune?” I mutter. “I really am a shitty battle-witch.”

“What say you, witch?” the Shadow Knight calls to me.

“Don’t drag me into a thousand-year old curse,” I reply.

He eyes me over his shoulder. “How badly do I trounce these fools?”

“Well . . .” Everyone is waiting for my judgment. With a glance at my hand, I decide it’s probably a good time to lie. “Very badly.”

One of the men sheathes his sword, as if he’s uninterested in being turned into Swiss cheese tonight. Another one lowers his without putting it away. Pretty much all of them have eyes on the Desert Knight.

“You heard the Red Knight earlier, brothers,” the Desert Knight shouts. “She has no magic! Whoever this imposter is, she is not the last great battle-witch.”

My jaw drops and I glare at the Red Knight. Standing beside him, the Shadow Knight does the same.

The Red Knight wisely moves away from the boar-headed knight. “I said her magic has not manifested itself fully.”

“She’ll be easier to kill.”

“Challenging her is challenging me,” the Shadow Knight says firmly. “I have defeated many of you in battle already. Do you think I fear two dozen men when over five hundred in each battle have fallen beneath my sword?”

You tell ‘em! Sexy and strong. If nothing else, I kind of like the idea he’s not going to throw me to the wolves, even when he knows I suck. Jason never would’ve defended me. My heart is racing with adrenaline and I hold my breath, waiting for the response from the men.

They attack him.

“Shit.” I jerk as metal slams into metal. The force of the impact of their weapons ignites sparks that shoot out from the warriors.

Several of the Knights make an attempt to circle the Shadow Knight to get to me, but Wolfie heads them off while the Shadow Knight moves closer to the squire and me with lethal grace.

I watch, unable to follow the milling forms let alone the movements of men like the Shadow Knight and Desert Knight. Wolfie is a damned good warrior as well and I huddle with the squire.

“What does the magic say?” the squire asks nervously with a glance at my hands.

I look.

This is a trial.

“I’ll check back later. Probably good news,” I reply, at a loss as to what the meaning is.

He appears hopeful.

“Witch!” the bellow comes from the madly fighting Shadow Knight. “Come!”

He’s fighting three men, both arms swinging. The chances of me being sliced up are much clearer than my fortune. “Um, no thanks. We’re good here.”

He mutters something I can’t quite make out, his agility astonishing me. His deadly dance grows fast and near. Before I can object, he’s swept me up in one arm the way he did yesterday. I don’t resist this time; this horrible, delicate, lethal dance is something I’m not about to get in the way of. Swords flash within millimeters of my face and head, and I squeeze my eyes closed, gripping the only thing I really can – the strap holding the sword sheath to his back. His arm around my midsection is tight enough that my feet don’t touch the ground. His body shields mine.

The sounds of metal colliding inches from me is terrifying, the sensation of motion exhilarating yet nowhere near what I’d call a good time. The man’s body is beyond incredible, the bunching and releasing of his muscles effortless. I press my cheek to his warm chest and pray that I somehow end up back on the couch at home. If nothing else, I get a good whiff of brownies and man, a combination that heightens my senses and makes me too aware of his body – and our precarious situation.

Abruptly, he stops the battle dance. For a moment, I’m stricken by the idea he’s been stabbed. My eyes fly open and I wait for the finishing blow to find me.

“Let the troll take him,” the Desert Knight says with some satisfaction.

Troll? They have imaginary creatures in this book? I twist to see what the hell is headed for us and gasp.

The troll is as huge and ugly as I imagined, standing about nine feet tall and built like a tree.

An angry tree, if his glowing orange eyes are any indication.

“Can you take out a troll?” I ask the Shadow Knight, looking up at him.

“Never tried.”

“But you can, right?”

“Quiet, witch.”

I unclench one hand to see if there’s any other message.

This is a trial.

Nope. Just the weird one.

“If you ever decided to use your magic, now is a good time.” The Shadow Knight’s words send a streak of cold fear through me. He’s too stubborn to know fear, but he’s unsettled.

“Let’s just run,” I reply.

“Run?” he echoes. The boar’s eyes meet mine. They’re light enough gray that they’re almost white. “Leave my family’s honor, an era of struggle and darkness and fog here at the feet of my enemies, condemn the realm to death, and run?”