Johnis dove at the boy, knocked him backward to the ground, and straddled his chest with a raised fist before he fully realized what he was doing. He’d exploded at the mention of his mother’s demise—he was hardly acting like a good candidate for leadership among the Guard. An impulsive hothead, more like it.

He paused, and that slight hesitation cost him the advantage. Jackov jerked his knee up into the small of Johnis’s back, then twisted to one side.

What happened next couldn’t be easily explained by Johnis, who’d never trained in the art of close-in fighting as Jackov had. All he knew was that the fighter proved why he, not Johnis, deserved to fight for the Guard. Jackov swung one leg high over their heads and spun on one shoulder so that his heels lined up with Johnis’s head.

His boot crashed into Johnis’s temple. The tables were so quickly reversed that Johnis forgot to defend himself.

Then Jackov was over him, with one knee in his throat and a knife in his hand.

“Is this what you want, squat? Don’t think for a moment that your stunt in the stadium was anything more than a fluke. I could cut your tongue out now and be rewarded for—”

A body flew in from behind them, parallel to the ground, and crashed into Jackov’s shoulder. The stronger lad was taken out like an apple being swatted off a stick by the broad side of a sword. As the attacker streaked over Johnis, he saw who’d saved him: Silvie.

Shorter than Jackov by a full head but as fast as a fireball, she had him flailing and landing hard on his buttocks before he knew what hit him. Then it was her knee in his throat and a knife in her hand.

They both knew how skilled she was with those knives. Jackov threw up both hands. “Easy! Get off me, for Elyon’s sake, back off!”

“You tangle with him, you tangle with me,” she snapped.

“He tangled with me!” Jackov hissed.

“And so would I if you insulted my mother,” Silvie said.

“Fine, just back off. You’ll want to hear what I have to say.”

Johnis rolled to his feet and rubbed a lump on his left temple. “Let him up, Silvie.”

“I don’t trust him.”

“I’m not asking you to trust him. Just let him up.”

She did so, backing away slowly, knife still in hand. Jackov got his feet under his body and pushed himself up. “You’re both loose in the head,” he said.

“What is it that you think I should hear?” Johnis asked.

Jackov took a deep breath. “Your mother isn’t with the Horde army.”

“How do you know?” Johnis exchanged a glance with Silvie.

“I told you, I overheard one of them,” Jackov said.

“The Scabs were fighting, not talking,” Johnis said.