Page 152 of Sword & Sacrifice

“True, but sometimes it’s a good thing.”

She ignored him as she clasped her bag tight and held it to her chest, afraid he would try to steal it from her.

“Aren’t you going to ask why it’s a good thing?”

“No,” she said, inching toward Sugar. She hadn’t tied the horse’s reins up since Sugar was a good girl who wouldn’t wander off on her own. All Emmaline had to do was mount, and she could ride safely away.

“It’s a good thing because I happen to be a wandering mage who can help you.”

She froze and looked back at him, examining him from head to toe. He didn’t look like a mage. He looked more like a young, off-duty soldier. Though he’d aimed for a relaxed pose, she could see the underlying tension in his frame, the way his hand casually rested near his belt where he probably had a dagger sheathed.

“Want me to prove it?” he asked, grinning at her. “Nico, c’mere.”

Soft footsteps approached Emmaline from behind and she whipped around to see the other man from the store. The sweet scent of his cigarette still clung to him. He nodded to Emmaline and stopped a few steps away.

The one-eyed man pulled a scrap of parchment from his pocket, scribbled something on it, and then sealed it shut with a bit of loose wax. The second the wax pressed against the parchment, it disappeared.

Watching them both carefully, Emmaline saw the moment it appeared in the other man’s hand.

“So, what do you say, miss? Want me to send a message for you?”

Gripping the strap of her bag, she considered his offer. It would be so much easier to have someone else help her. Yet his appearance was too convenient. What if this is a trap? What if he knows Alistair or Niall, and they sent him to hunt me down? Although she’d kept her message vague, she didn’t trust this stranger with it.

Still … if it got the information to Archer sooner. “Could you teach me how to send my own message?”

The one-eyed man scratched his head. “I don’t really have time for that. It’d be a lot faster if you let me do it.”

She eyed both men, then shook her head no and backed toward Sugar. “Thank you for the offer, but I can figure it out on my own.”

“Why are you leaving so soon, pet?” the other man asked, baring his teeth in a sharp smile. Griselda often smiled like that just before she punched someone. “You haven’t even introduced yourself. I’m Nico, this is Rafe, and you are?”

“Leaving,” Emmaline replied, spinning around to the face the saddle—and colliding with a third man.

The third man was as tall as Archer, with a scowl deeper than Griselda’s, and dark brown skin. Large hands grabbed her shoulders, holding her in place.

“Oh, and that’s our other friend Braz,” Nico said.

Emmaline screamed, long and loud, trying to draw as much attention to herself as possible. When she was a little girl, one of the female lieutenants had pulled her aside and made her practice screaming until she tasted blood.

The scream startled some birds resting in the tree, who cawed and screeched as they flapped away, adding their own noise to the chaos.

“What the fuck? Shut her up!”

One of the other men grabbed Emmaline from behind, wrapping one hand around her stomach, the other around her mouth. “Shh, shh, it’s fine, we’re not trying to hurt you.”

Along with the scream practice, Emmaline had also learned some basic self-defense. “You’re never going to outmuscle someone, so remember their weak spots: eyes, groin, joints, pressure points.”

She jerked her knee up directly into Braz’s groin, grinding it into his soft bits until he gasped in pain and released her.

Rafe still held her from behind, his arm a steel band around her waist. She tried to step on his foot, but he lifted her up so all she could do was kick uselessly at the air. “Gods, you’re slipperier than eel spit.”

Emmaline continued to struggle against him until his grip on her mouth loosened enough for her to sink her teeth into his hand.

He exclaimed in pain but only tightened his hold on her. “Emmaline!”

The sound of her own name made her freeze in shock. Had she been discovered already? Did the constable send them? That would be a better scenario than if they worked for Alistair or Niall. “Who are you?” she tried to ask, the words muffled and distorted by his hand partially covering her mouth.

“What’s more important is who you are,” Rafe replied.