Fortune Favors the Cruel - Kel Carpenter Page 0,11

someone. Approaching the curtain that opened up to the greater amphitheater, she paused.

“She’s in the door at the end of the hall, you say?” another voice asked, one she didn’t recognize.

“Yes, just through that—” He made a sound of protest. “Where’s my payment?”

Dread settled in Quinn’s stomach like a lead weight.

She was right to leave, but she’d acted too late. Myori’s wrath! Caine had already run his mouth to the city guards.

The amulet between her breasts pulsed as a sliver of power snaked up her arms. Fear. Black and potent. She didn’t feel afraid, though, oh no. She felt powerful. Strong. It was a heady thing, this emotion that motivated so many. To Quinn, it was the ultimate drug. The very thing that brought her clarity … and also stole it away.

The barrier tried to contain it, tried and failed as the darkness slithered along her arms.

She took two steps back and bolted for the other exit. Her body was just disappearing around the corner when the curtain at her back swished aside.

Shouts rang out as footsteps trampled in her wake.

She flung herself at the back door, using her momentum to open it. The wood splintered apart at the lock and the door swung wide, banging against the side of the old amphitheater. The sound ricocheted through the southern market of Dumas as Quinn took to the streets, guards hot on her tail. She sprinted down the narrow alleyway and veered left, running away from the slums and into the thickening mass of people.

Bells rang out, coming from the square and the crowd grew frenzied. Confused looks followed her as Quinn raced down the sandy streets as fast as her legs would carry her.

She was quicker than the guards. She was more motivated than them.

But they had one thing that Quinn did not.

Strength in numbers.

The end of the street was blocked off with more soldiers dressed in the Norcastan uniform of white and gold. Not just city enforcers then, but the army as well. If she got out of this, it would be by the skin of her teeth and the goddess Fortuna’s blessing.

“Stop!” Their shouts echoed all around. On either side tents and city walls surrounded her. There would be no running.

With every exhale of her breath, black wisps drifted from her mouth like smoke from a dragon’s lungs.

She reached inside her shirt and pulled the stone from her chest. The veins within it pulsed unnaturally bright. She knew her body’s own response to fear was blowing through what was left of the barrier meant to help contain her powers.

“Quinn of House Illvain, also known as Mirior, you are under arrest for the intended murder of Earl Houche of House—” The guards pretty speech broke off as Quinn started laughing, cackling like the maruda they thought her to be.

Quinn was not yet a dark Maji gone mad, even if she did dance with Mazzulah, the god of the dark realm, in her heart. Being wicked and being insane were two different things, though they often went hand-in-hand.

The sky dimmed with pewter and charcoal clouds tinged red. Hysteria crept into her thoughts as she clutched the black opal.

Too much…

It was trying to funnel too much…

Quinn pulled the knife from her sheath and held it in one hand, the stone in the other. Her arms didn’t shake. Her breath didn’t quiver. The makings of a wicked smile ghosted her lips, because she felt far too confident and that only meant one thing.

The guards advanced on her from all sides, swords in hand and armor glistening beneath the nightmarish sky. Apprehension thickened the air, and Quinn took an intoxicating whiff.

The black opal cracked down the middle and exploded. In that instant, every flicker of power it had been holding back fell over Quinn with a quiet hush.

She gasped for breath, air leaving her body but nothing coming in. The pieces of the useless amulet fell to her feet.

The guards took another step forward, their overwhelming anxiety leaking into the air around them and fueling the cataclysm sinking into her bones.

Dark shadows thickened and swirled around her. They clung to her skin as if attracted to the very power inside that fueled them. An aching abyss of despair and promise opened up inside her. Too much power. Too many people. So many feelings that were tied to her very being. They swarmed her.

Her confidence wavered as her power consumed her.

Black tethers snaked around her arms, snapped out, wrapping around the guards. Screams reverberated