“Stand down, Justice. Call off your men,” she demanded. But nobody moved. “Very well, if that’s how it has to be. Guards!” Constance cried. A shout from the captain sent the men on the battlements hurrying down to the courtyard and gathering around her, their short green cloaks and peaked helmets casting strange shadows in the fiery dawn light. Their longswords were ugly, heavy weapons but unmistakably sharp and businesslike against the soft curls of the mist. She remembered Xander’s words on the stoic loyalty of the city guard to those who wore the badge of the Protectorship. Clearly, even though she was revealed as a mage, the rule persisted. Thank the gods.

Winton straightened his spine and drew his own longsword, standing at Constance’s side. She felt a tug of pure relief and affection in her belly. “You owe me an explanation, Sister,” he said under his breath. She nodded in response.

“Lord Irvine?” she said, with as much confidence as she could muster. Please, please, trust me, she thought.

After a short, agonizing delay, the Swordmaster drew his slender twin blades, and so did the blue-clad men whom he had gathered on his way. Other men had joined on both sides, hearing belatedly of the fighting about to start. “Stand down, Lord Justice,” said Irvine. “You know you cannot win against us all.”

The Justice’s lip curled, and he kept his blade raised.

Constance trained her eyes on the physician as she readied her cane. He is my priority. Irvine’s men and the guards can take the others.

A heartbeat of silence, then chaos broke loose.

The Justice attacked first, a shouted command launching Barbarus at Constance’s torso. But she leaped to one side, felt the whoosh of the dog’s bulk pass her stomach as she fell hard onto the ground—and the hound sank its teeth into someone else’s leg. The man shouted out in agony, and Constance felt hot blood spray against her cheek. She staggered to her feet but kept low. All around her, blades sang in the churning cloud. A metal tang soured the air—was it her imagination or did the storm spin faster? She felt sick, the man’s blood trickling over her lips.

“Get back!” Xander was beside her, hauling her up and pushing her toward the relative safety of the courtyard’s perimeter, as if she were a child.

She pulled out of his grasp. “Hey—”

“Just go, Constance!” His face was wild and angry, and he ignored her struggles. Once she was out of the way, he turned back to the fray.