Han flexed his fingers, his breath hissing out in pain as the blood returned. He rolled over and sat up, stretching his shoulders, taking his time, wanting to get functional again before he made his move. Karn gripped one corner of the amulet’s leather wrapping and slid it closer to Han. Then he took a fistful of Dancer’s hair and pulled his head back, sliding his blade under his chin.

Han gripped the flash with both hands. Power thrilled through him, driving his pain away, replacing it with a savage anger that wanted nothing more than to destroy the man before him. An anger that cared nothing for the knife at Dancer’s throat. His heart thudded in his chest. A charm bubbled to his lips, and he opened his mouth to speak it.

The door banged open again. Han turned, extending his hand toward the intruders.

It was Gerard Montaigne, his eyes bulging out, lips purplish in the sallow light from the lantern. And behind him, propelling him forward, was Cat Tyburn, her garrotte wrapped around the prince of Arden’s throat, her blade pressed into his rib cage.

C H A P T E R  S E V E N

ON THE
ROAD AGAIN

For a long moment, nobody moved. Then Dancer smashed his head into Karn’s chin. Karn lost hold of his knife, and it fell down between them. Instead of fishing for it, Karn launched himself at Cat and Montaigne. The three of them tumbled to the ground in a mad tangle, with Montaigne and Karn both shouting for help.

Dancer located Karn’s knife. Gripping it between the heels of his hands, he leaned back against it, sawing away at the ropes. Power rippled unbidden from Han’s amulet, and the lantern exploded, sending shards of glass and burning oil flying. The room plunged into darkness, save the illumination from the Demon King jinxpiece. Han slid the chain over his head, tucking his amulet inside his shirt. Using a fragment of glass, he cut his ankles free. Then he slid his hands over the stone floor, searching for the other amulets.

Cat scrambled up next to him. She’d somehow extricated herself from the confusion as Karn dragged the would-be king of Arden toward the door.

“Come on,” she hissed. “We got to pike off. There’s soldiers in the woods, and with all this noise, they’re going to come running.”

Dancer knelt, leaning forward, also searching for the flashpieces. “Here’s yours,” he said, reaching back to hand Han the Hunts Alone amulet, smeared with blood. Dancer must have cut his hands as he groped around on the floor.

Cat stared at the amulet, looking perplexed.

Outside the farmhouse, feet pounded toward them. Montaigne’s soldiers arriving.

“Your Majesty!” someone shouted. “What is it? Is something wrong?”

“To me!” the prince of Arden shouted. “I’m under attack by northern assassins.”

Soldiers jostled through the doorway, bottling them in.