Torrent of Tears (Scourge Survivor Series Book 3)(55)

The canal.

I must have run off the edge of the walkway and landed in a canal. Struggling to find which way was up, I broke the surface and choked my lungs clear. The clouds were passing, the glimmer of moonlight casting a path back to the edge. I was a strong swimmer, but the lip of the alleyway was at least five feet above my head. No ladders. No edges to grab.

The scuffle of a vicious fight, echoed above. Cursing. The dull thud of bodies connecting. The grunt and crash of hand-to-hand. Shit, Eury.

I needed out of this canal. I needed to be up there. A surge of water pushed at me from below. Did I do that? But I could barely work the shower.

The sounds of the battle above tightened in my gut. I couldn’t tread water here all night while people were getting hurt. With all my might, I focused on the water raising me to the edge. I needed a lift. I needed out. I needed—

The catapulting effect was immediate and far more powerful than I expected.

The stone of the walkway came hard and fast. My tuck and roll barely saved my head from cracking. My shoulder hit and bent behind me. White-hot pain shot through my hip. I blinked, my vision spotty.

Tasso was there, not twenty feet away, beating on Eury like a dog in the street.

I scrambled to my feet, ignoring the lethargic response of my left leg or the road rash on my palms. Fuck, where was the crossbow? Canal, likely.

Hand-to-hand it is. Crossing my arms over my waist I grabbed the two hilts protruding from my battle vest and drew steel. Tasso and Eury were still hard at it. Didn’t even hear me slip in behind them when—

I froze. Shaking my head, I breathed deep again to make sure. Scourge. The rotting stench of the undead clung to Tasso’s uniform . . . how?

My hesitation wasn’t long, but it cost me. Tasso spun and back-fisted me to the face. Staggering to the side, I breathed through the hit. He whirled me around. The instant I spun to face him, I rammed my knee between his legs and locked my hands on the fucker’s throat.

An earthquake of emotion ripped through me.

Gone was the strategic, Battle Master of The Academy of Affinities, gone was the Talon Enforcer for the Realm of the Fair, gone was any thought or emotion beyond the violent menace erupting from my core. My skin ignited with a burning heat.

A hard punch to the gut and my breath left me in a rush. Struggling in an all-out brawl, my body moved on autopilot, slashing and hacking at the bastard who had taken pleasure in killing Tham—the sweetest male ever known.

With my vision still on the blink, the images Zophia had shared with me flashed like a never-ending lightning storm behind my eyes. My muscles and bones ignored the damage, ignored the teeth-rattling strikes Tasso landed.

I was action. No thought. No feeling. For the first time in my life, my temper exploded and I didn’t reel it in.

Struggling in a close melee, I unsheathed my Guardian from my thigh and brought it up in a hard arc. The blade fought through his ribcage, positioned to pierce his heart.

“That is for Tham.” I jammed it in, hard. “And for me, you fucking piece of shit.”

Tasso’s eyes widened and then we both sank to the cobbled ground.

Sometime later—a long time later judging by the ache in my muscles—I became aware of Eury’s low moan. I yanked my knife from Tasso’s body and crawled over. The buckles of his chest plate were slick with blood and tough for my cramped fingers to manipulate free. Shit. He was drenched and in bad shape.

“Princess?” I gripped my blade and whirled, blade poised. No need. It was the merchant woman with the blue wings from the other day. She approached slowly, her hands up between us. “Princess, you’re hurt. Let us get you in off the street before more soldiers come. It’s not safe here.”

“Him first.” I wiped my blade on Tasso’s cape and sheathed my knife. “Eury’s worse off than me. He needs Rowan.” When she just stared at me, I snapped. “Lir-Rowan, Noble of the Fifth House, get him for me.”

She recoiled. “This man is a Strati soldier. Leave him to the night. You need to—”

“He’s with me,” I said, resting a protective hand over Eury’s chest. “Not all soldiers are the Queen’s men. If you care anything for what remains of Attalos’ honor, I demand he receive shelter and care.”

She pursed her lips but didn’t hesitate long. Whistles sounded a few streets over. Men shouted. Nodding, she waved to the three young men. They scurried out from the shadows.

With booted feet, two of them rolled Tasso like a rotten log and kicked him into the canal. The third grabbed a large sheet of wood from the alley and dropped it onto the bloody stone walk beside Eury. He and the woman shifted Eury onto the board and dragged him down the alley to a door.

The voices grew closer.

When I made to follow, my foot skidded. Pain ripped through my knee as it hit blood-slick stone. I tried to catch myself, but my body didn’t obey. My vision fritzed again.

The thundering of soldier bootsteps were almost on top of us. The last thing I remember . . . strong hands scooped me up and pulled me in tight.

“We’ve got you, Princess,” a voice whispered. “We’ve got you.”





CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO


“Easy Trouble. Don’t try to get up. You’re safe.” Familiar hands stroked my bare arm, the gentle scratch of callused palms calming me like a balm on a wound.