They ran down the tree house steps, skipping two or three at a time, until finally they crashed onto the mud.

Tavia looked around the forest, at the chaos that was descending.

Blood stained the warning leaves and her allies were tripping over bodies as they made to run toward, or from, their enemies. They threw magic at each other in a deafening roar, with lights of blinding white and blue flashing across Tavia’s vision like some kind of deadly rainbow.

“I have to find Amja and my father!” Saxony yelled, running for the center of camp.

Tavia lost sight of her in moments and then a bolt of lightning, conjured from a clear sky, headed toward her.

Tavia and Wesley dove out of the way, and she landed with a heavy thud in the soil. She cursed at the row of bruises she knew would appear down her legs by tomorrow.

If she lived until tomorrow.

Tavia pushed herself to her feet and grabbed two of the knives from her belt. A Crafter surged toward her and Tavia flung her arm out, slicing the knife across his neck.

One down. Only a hundred left to go, she thought, throwing a punch at another.

He took it to the nose and while he was busy clutching at his face, Tavia took the opportunity to jam her knife into his chest.

But stabbing someone wasn’t always easy. It wasn’t like slicing a loaf of bread. It was hard and gristly and Tavia winced as she desperately tried to pull the knife back out, only for the blade to get stuck somewhere in the man’s chest.

She sighed, and left that knife behind. She had plenty more.

Beside her, Wesley was taking on three Crafters, slamming his fist into the face of one, and his magic into the others. She made to help him, but a beam of light shot out toward her from behind a distant tree.

Tavia barely dodged it in time.

She swore, loudly, hoping that was the last time she was thrown to the ground, because her ego—and her bruised ass—couldn’t handle much more.

“For the love of the Many Gods,” Tavia said, glaring at the sky. “Could you cut me a break?”

“You’re praying right now?” Wesley asked, appearing suddenly by her side like a ghost.

He pulled Tavia to her feet.

“Want to splash some blessed water on our enemies, too?”

Tavia ignored him and threw one of her knives at a nearby attacker. It landed straight in the center of his forehead and the way that Wesley’s eyebrows shot up was almost comical.

“Where did you learn to do that?” he asked.

Tavia shrugged, like she wasn’t extremely impressed with her own aim.

“Karam,” she said, as casually as she could muster.

Wesley let out a low whistle. “I’m not sure whether to be scared or turned on.”