Fated Blades (Kinsmen #3)(44)

The first pair of dancers spun into the plaza, moving in a large circle. The second followed. One by one, the couples caught the rhythm and joined into a choreographed human whirlwind. The pair in front of them took off. Ramona counted to three in her head, and she and Matias twirled into the circle of dancers, taking their place.

Matias’s hand under her fingers was rock steady. He caught her waist, and they moved, turning, spinning, breaking apart, and coming together in perfect sync. She counted the Vandals by the walls as she and Matias dashed around the square. Fifty. The party guests were all here.

One circle around the plaza. Two . . .

She breathed in deeply and looked at Matias. Their gazes met. A hot, feral fire danced in his eyes. If he’d had fangs, he would have bared them and howled. Excitement filled her. If they waited too long, she’d burst.

They were about to finish the third circle. The music kicked into high gear. The pair of dancers in front of them slipped to the side, seamlessly escaping toward the entrance.

The group of Vandals was directly in front of them, four men drinking something from tall crystal glasses.

Matias gripped her arm, twisting her sharply, combining his momentum with hers. His fingers opened, and she almost flew at the four soldiers. The seco slashed out of her arms in twin blades. She sliced through the man on her left, and before his head slid from the stump of his neck, she severed the other trooper’s skull. Her seco caught him just below the ear. The top of his head flew, flinging blood into the air. Before the remaining two realized what had happened, she stabbed both of them through their necks in a single precise thrust and kept moving.

The other dancers were still spinning, fleeing the plaza pair by pair, and their flowing skirts and flying vests gave her a couple seconds of cover from the other side of the plaza. Nobody on that side saw the kill, and she was moving so fast.

The three Vandals at the next quilt had no time to react. The closest man’s eyes widened, and then she was on them, mincing flesh and slicing bones like butter.

Shots popped from the left, and then Matias was there, shielding her with his seco. She painted a bloody line across the third soldier’s throat. Matias caught her, and they charged in unison.

The next group jumped to their feet, three Vandals, eyes open wide, pulling sidearms from under their quilts.

It was her turn to shield. She splayed her seco out, while Matias fell on them. They moved back to back. Her force fields swallowed the incoming energy fire, the impact reverberating through her arms. Matias attacked. He ducked, he cut, he thrust. It was over in seconds.

The Vandals at the other wall ceased fire. The remaining soldiers on their side withdrew and formed a silent line blocking the two entrances to the Kamen. The music died.

A slow clap echoed through the plaza. On the balcony Varden stood up. Gabriel stared at her, open mouthed. Cassida’s face was bloodless.

During his entire marriage to her, Gabriel had never seen the seco in action. He had witnessed her training, but he’d never experienced the brutality of the actual combat. He never saw the cross section of a human body revealed as the seco cut through flesh. He never smelled the inside of a person suddenly exposed to air. She was sure Cassida had been equally spared. Matias wouldn’t have wanted to traumatize his wife.

This was the side neither she nor Matias had shared with their spouses. The killer side, the ruthless side, nurtured and trained since early childhood. The rude awakening must’ve shocked them.

“Not bad,” Varden said.

He wasn’t an idiot. He had to have realized that not a single face on the wall seemed surprised, but he didn’t seem rattled.

He turned and walked toward the doorway leading from the balcony.

A man shouldered through the Vandal line in front of them. He wore a black combat suit that clung to him, flowing over the contours of his body as if painted on. Muscle corded his tall frame. His skin was spacer pale, his brown hair was cut short, and when she looked into his eyes, she saw the same predatory fire she had seen in the eyes of the original secare unit. It seared her, and for a moment she couldn’t focus on anything else.

Varden walked through the line of soldiers and stood next to Lukas.

“You made me wait a week for this?” Lukas nodded at them.

“It’s worth it.”

“I’ll charge you double.”

“Get me their arms intact, and I’ll pay it.”

Her shell-shocked brain finally processed what she was seeing. They looked similar: same spare, hardened build without a trace of softness, same harsh set of the square jaws, same merciless stare, same height . . . twins.

Twins.

The two men split, circling them from opposite directions.

Her instincts kicked in. She turned left, facing Lukas as he stalked across the stones. Matias’s back touched hers as he tracked Varden on the right. The brothers moved well, too well. They didn’t look upset. Their eyes held no excitement.

“You look soft,” Lukas told her.

She didn’t say anything.

“Soft and slow,” Lukas said.

Fine. She looked at him as if he were a piece of trash she needed to clean up. “You sold your skills to a butcher, just like Leland. Your bloodline is rotten. We’ll end your shame today.”

He laughed. “Show me.”

She sensed Matias’s movement, the coiled power in his body shifting. The connection between them seared her, and she moved with him unconsciously, knowing where he would set his feet and which way he would strike.