Hallevar just nodded solemnly. “That’s a fine, respectful way to phrase it—especially when there’s a handful of women out there who might just get mad enough to actually hit something if you phrased it any other way.”

“Precisely,” Lucivar said dryly. “Work them through one more quiver and—”

He was running toward the arms practice field before the first panicked scream could be drowned out by furious shouts. He leaped up on the low stone wall that separated the two fields. Ice formed around his heart when he saw Kaelas give a Green-Jeweled Eyrien Warlord Prince a casual swat that opened up the back of one thigh. The ice became a painful cage when he saw Rothvar and Zaranar running toward the stranger with weapons drawn.

*NO!* he shouted on a spear thread. *I’ll gut any man who raises a weapon!*

They skidded to a stop, their shock at his order rivaling their fury. But they, and the other men on the practice field, obeyed.

“Help me!” the stranger yelled as he swung his war blade at Kaelas, trying to keep the cat in front of him while he limped backward toward the other men. “Damn you all to the bowels of Hell, help me!”

Lucivar turned, looked back at the women. *Marian, take all the women up to our eyrie. Close the shutters.*

*Lucivar, what—*

*Do it!*

He strode toward the loose circle of men, Falonar and Hallevar right behind him. A gut-sick satisfaction filled him as he watched how easily Kaelas dodged the stranger’s attempts to counterattack—and he wondered what the other men would say if they knew he had been the one who had taught the cat how to move with and against human weapons.

As soon as the Eyrien shifted into a fighting stance, Kaelas charged. The speed and the sheer weight behind the charge knocked the man back several feet. The claws ripped open the Eyrien’s shoulders and followed through down the arms, leaving them useless. The cat leaped away and began lazily circling a man barely able to get to his feet.

Falonar looked behind them and cursed softly, viciously. Turning and opening his wings to hide the practice field, he snarled, “Go back with the other women.”

“Don’t give me any of that—oh, shit,” Surreal said as she dodged Falonar and got a good look at the man and cat.

Kaelas continued the light, almost playful swats, inflicting surface wounds that would slowly bleed out his prey. He continued until the Eyrien stranger spread his torn wings and tried to fly. The cat leaped with the man, then landed lightly. The man, with his back ripped open, fell heavily.

“Mother Night,” Surreal whispered, “he’s playing with that man.”

“He’s playing,” Lucivar said grimly as nerves twisted his belly, “but it’s not a game. This is an Arcerian execution.”