“What?” he croaks before his eyes have even opened. “What is it?”

“The camp is under attack!”

She’s still staring into Brio’s confused and sleep-addled eyes when she hears the blade cutting through the fabric of the tent. By the time Evie looks up, the black-clad figure is already slipping deftly through the tall slit they’ve made. Their face and head are hidden beneath a pitch hood, the barest sliver cut away to reveal only hints of dark eyes. The grip of their gloved hand is reversed on the tsuka of a short sword, the tip of its curved blade pointed at the ground.

Evie quickly stands, stepping over Brio to shield his body. Her stance widens and she rubs her palms and fingertips against the thighs of her trousers, wiping away the dirt smudges and drying the natural oils there to keep as much purchase in her grip as possible. The black-clad figure takes one step forward and swipes at her with their upended blade. The strike is fast and powerful and skilled enough to separate her neck, but Evie bends her knees and ducks. The razor edge of the blade slices away several dozen tiny threads of her hair, each wisp still hanging there in the air as the black-clad figure brings their arm back for a stabbing thrust.

Evie sidesteps the blade and traps their arm, twisting her body into them and flipping her attacker onto their back. The point of the blade is now angled above its owner’s chest. She quickly leans all her weight against the bottom of the sword’s tsuka, driving the blade down deep into the black-clad figure’s heart.

Evie turns her head away from the sight of the dying enemy beneath her. She feels heat on her face. Opening her eyes, she sees that the roof of their tent is now ablaze.

“Shit” is her only comment on the current situation.

There’s no time for further contemplation. No sooner has the body gone limp than a second attacker slips inside the tent, also draped head-to-toe in black, also wielding a short sword in one gloved hand. Rather than invest precious moments into wresting the blade buried in the first attacker’s chest from their death-locked hands, Evie abandons the body and draws the push dagger from her boot, the one she took from the Sicclunan agent at the Revel. Behind her, Brio does his best to roll out of the way, dragging his injured leg with him against the wall of the tent.