know if you receive any more reports.”
As Lorraine turned to leave, a shout came from the clearing below.
“Make way,” a man on a horse yelled in brutish Norcastan. The soldiers near the far edge of the trees parted. He came out of the forest with his head high and waving the banner of Lazarus’ enemies. He had blonde hair and wore a sash of red and white. Behind him, another rider followed, this one in green and silver.
Both the kuras and the bloodlion ran past him, coming up on either side of Quinn to flank her as the Maji parted.
“What is this?” he asked, projecting his voice over the training ground.
Whispers broke out, but with a single, sharp command from Quinn, they quieted.
“Silence,” she snapped. The clomping of hooves as the intruders slowly made their way over the five hundred meters was a treacherous walk.
Only when they were within spitting distance of Quinn did they stop.
Lazarus had a feeling it had more to do with the growling kuras at her side than anything else. Cold winds drifted over Shallowyn as an unnatural frigid air settled over them. Quinn hadn’t reached for the knives strapped to her waist or back yet, but that didn’t mean she was calm.
It was quite the opposite. He sensed that darkness building in her at the very sight of them. Her lips pulled back in a snarl.
“His Majesty asked you a question, messengers.” Her voice was filled with wrath held only by the greatest of restraint. The one closest to her swallowed, looking far less certain than when he’d stepped out of the forest.
“We come on behalf of King Elijah of Bangratas, and King Doran of Jibreal. They propose to negotiate the terms of your surrender.”
The training grounds had gone utterly silent as Lazarus considered his answer. Before he could say a word, Quinn chose to speak.
“Surrender?” she asked quietly. “What a quaint offer from your traitorous kings. Is that what they are calling the massacre they have planned?”
The messengers shared a look.
It was not the woman they were speaking to, but the fear twister they’d egged on and brought forth.
One of them coughed, shaking the tremble off that ran through him.
“How does Your Grace wish to proceed?” His voice shook from the building fear, and Lazarus wondered if Quinn realized she was doing it.
Still, he answered.
“There will be no surrender. Your kingdoms come at their own demise.”
Their faces turned white. Ashen with the growing unease coming from the woman at the steps. The kuras whined a high-pitched sound. The bloodlion arched its back and hissed in their direction. They did not like these outsiders so close to her. They did not like the wrath they incurred or the threat they represented.
“Very well, we will deliver—”
“Not so fast,” Quinn said, stepping forward. She lifted a hand, and Neiss slithered forth, dropping out of her skin and snaking down the compacted dirt, straight for the horse closest to him. “They sent two messengers, but only one of you is needed. I’d like to add to my king’s response.”
Neiss grew in size, becoming large enough that the horses started to spook. He was faster, though, winding himself around the first mare’s legs, snaking upward and trapping it. The creature bucked, tossing its rider, and Neiss grew ever larger, then opened his gaping jaws to devour the horse entirely.
The rider hit the dirt, and the Maji surrounding him all stepped away. He scrambled to his feet, or at least tried to. “Show them how we treat traitors here,” she commanded. Kairick stepped in front of her and his firedrake descended from the sky. A wild screech echoed through the valley as the great bird descended on the man. It snapped its jaws at his arms and crimson squirted. Neither the boy nor Quinn winced as the creature picked him apart piece by piece.
It was gory and horrifying and powerful.
When the beast went for the head, Quinn lifted her hand.
“Not that part. We’ll send that back with this messenger so he can tell the others what awaits them.”
Kairick whispered, and while Lazarus couldn’t hear the words, the firedrake stopped its assault. It tossed the torso of the man up in the air and then jumped into the sky, snatching it before flying off. Little more than bits of severed limbs and a pool of blood remained.
But the head was intact.
“Neiss,” Quinn said, with a lifted eyebrow. The snake seemed to sullenly release its would-be meal and returned to Quinn. A