Page 75 of The Dead Queen

“Hold on a minute.” Tristan raises his hands placatingly. “How do you know we’re even the same customers your overrated bartender mentioned? For all you know, we’re a tribe of penniless performers.” He points to Hunter. “There you have the hopeless hero and his ingenue.”

The man grins. “If they’re the main characters, then who, pray tell, are you?”

Tristan grins wickedly. “I’m the villain, of course.” His canines are slightly more pointed than seems natural.

For the first time, the man’s smile falters. “Hand over your money,” he says, all good humor gone. “And that red cloak, sweetheart. Those gauntlets, too. We’ll be taking them.”

Hunter jumps down from the mare and draws his sword, preventing the men from getting any nearer to me, but I don’t need his protection. I jump down from the mare.

“Sienna, no,” Hunter says.

I ignore him and fumble under my skirts. Someone whistles. Another farmer makes a lewd gesture, but his face changes when I draw my knife out from the scabbard strapped to my thigh. Maybe it’s time I find a more convenient place to keep my weapon.

The jokester lunges first, reaching for my cloak. I sidestep and slash out with my knife, catching his arm. He yelps and stumbles back, clutching his bleeding wound. Hunter takes that moment to charge at another thief, his gauntlet connecting with the man’s jaw with a satisfying crunch. The thief drops to the ground, unconscious from a single punch.

Behind us, Tristan intercepts a third thief who’s trying to circle around me. He grabs the man’s arm and twists, forcing him to drop his pitchfork, while his other fist sends the thief sprawling.

Several more men jump out from hiding spots in the forest, farm tools in hand. None look terribly confident about fighting us, but they want our money more than they fear a whipping.

“Come here, girl.” A ruddy man with a great orange beard swipes at me, but I’m faster. I twist out of his grasp just in time.

Unfortunately, I don’t notice the tree branch his friend is swinging toward me from the other direction. It catches me in the gut with a dull thump and I fall, sprawled out on the ground. My necklace slips out from its hiding spot beneath my bodice. The ruddy man’s eyes grow wide when he sees the silver moth.

“Pretty,” he says, grinning at me with brown teeth. “The missus will love that.” He reaches for it, but I roll away, swiping my knife at his hand as I go.

“Damn you to the deathless!” he shouts as he clutches his bleeding fingers. Blood drips down his forearm, trickling off his elbow into the dirt.

The thin man holds up his hands. “This ain’t worth it.” He turns and runs back into the forest.

“Evil wench,” the ruddy man yells as he follows him.

Behind me, Hunter and Tristan had similar success with their farmers, most of whom have fled.

When the leader realizes he’s the only one remaining, he curses and draws a blade that looks more like a kitchen knife than a dagger. He makes a wild swing at me, but I parry, deflecting his attack. I duck under his next swipe and kick out, catching him in the knee. He goes down with a grunt, and I point my knife at his throat.

“Run while you still can,” I hiss. My necklace dangles inches above his nose.

The leader glares up at me, but when I press the knife into the thin skin of his neck, he reconsiders.

“Fine!” he chokes.

I remove my knee and get off him, but I keep my knife pointed at his throat. He scrambles backward, jumps to his feet, then follows his men back into the forest.

My red cloak catches in a breeze as I watch them retreat.

When I turn around, Tristan is staring at the silver moth on my necklace. He notices I’m watching and points to it. “You’d better put that away, Red. Before anyone else sees.”

Something in the way he’s looking at it gives me pause. “Why? Because you know this moth?”

He stomps past me to the unconscious thief in the road. “Because the last thing we need is to tempt more thieves with pretty trinkets on display.”

I glower at him, but tuck it back inside my bodice anyway.

Hunter nudges the unconscious man with his boot, making sure he’s out cold. He crosses his arms in front of his chest, then turns to Tristan.

“Why didn’t you use that shadow power of yours?” he asks.

Tristan shrugs, then kneels on the ground. “We had it under control.”