A Marriage of Swords
The man’s mouth opened to shout.
Leigh was a blur. Her dagger flashed, not for a killing strike, but a silencing one—upward through the jaw, into the brain. The man crumpled without a sound. She caught him, lowering him gently into the shadows. Her eyes met Makil’s, cold and efficient. No hesitation. The battlefield.
But the movement had been seen. A shout went up. A pointing finger. The chanting stuttered, then rose into a roar of alarm.
“Time’s up!” Duncan bellowed, hefting his great axe. “Light the fuses! To the ropes!”