He barks laughter, loud enough to startle awake birds sleeping in the branches. Frantic wings snap leaves as they take flight. “You’re always good for laughing at, Tshauv Taws. Should have been a court fool.”

I smile sweetly. “And you’re always good for mindless obedience. Should have been a dog.”

“You think you’re so important? You’re just another shaman who needs to be put down. I’d kill you now, but the queen wants you alive.”

“Lucky me.”

“As her Shadow, the duty of bringing you in fell to me. You made yourself pathetically easy to find.”

It rubs me that he’s right. I didn’t try very hard to conceal myself, but neither did I expect Jonyah to be here, or that any Evewynian would attack me in Prince Meilek’s presence.

“And we found you conspiring with the prince no less.” He turns that vicious smile to Prince Meilek, who merely lifts one eyebrow. “Take them.”

I dig my heel into the loose dirt just as one of the men makes a gurgling sound and falls facedown into the grass. A knife protrudes from the back of his neck. Some distance behind him, shrouded by the dark, stands Phaut with her sword drawn.

Everyone bursts into movement. I dive at the nearest musician’s feet. He tumbles, hitting the ground hard. My hand finds two of his throwing knives. I tug them free before backing away to avoid a wild swipe of his sword. Over his shoulder, Phaut’s blade flashes in the moonlight as she fends off Jonyah and a second musician.

I duck another strike and smash the heel of my palm into the man’s nose. He cries out and staggers back, blood spilling down his face. I rush past him, flinging the knives. They both find their mark in Jonyah’s and the musician’s backs. The musician falters, falling to his knees, but Jonyah doesn’t. He was trained by Kendara, after all.

He knocks aside Phaut’s sword and drives his blade through her chest. Everything inside me turns to ice. Her gaze finds mine, startled and pained. Then she falls.

“No!” I scream, charging at him. My chest heaves with great gasping breaths. Tears burn my eyes. My heart has become a war hammer, smashing against my ribs.

The musician rises from the ground, lunging for me. He’s already clawed the knife from his back. I barely keep my feet as he grabs me around my waist and aims the weapon for my side. I twist around, smashing my elbow into his face. He drops the knife. I catch the blade between two fingers, flip it, and drive it beneath his chin. He makes a choking sound as red foams at his lips.

Another knife sings through the air. I yank him in front of me. He spasms as the blade impales his chest.