waved her blade threateningly before him. He cast a quick glance at his fallen comrades and abruptly whirled away from her and ran, disappearing into the woods.
Taylor turned to help Jared battle the last man standing. He swung an ax at Jared, and Jared ducked at the last moment, letting the blade whoosh over his head. From his crouched position, Jared thrust his sword. The blade bounced uselessly off of the man’s armor.
Taylor swung at the man, catching him in his shoulder. He yelped and swung the ax sharply at her, but she sidestepped the whistling blade and the ax buried itself into the ground. Taylor lashed out with her foot, kicking the man back.
Jared finished the man with a blow to his side. The blade pierced a gap in the attacker’s armor, and the man froze for a second before plummeting to the earth like a fallen tree.
Taylor whirled toward the forest, looking for any other attackers. But no one emerged.
“Are you all right?” Jared asked breathlessly.
Taylor nodded, turning to him. Her gaze swept her friend for any wounds, but there were none. When her heart stopped racing and she allowed her battle lust to fade, she knelt down by the fallen man and pushed him over onto his back. His face was covered with a black cloth, giving him the unnerving appearance of an executioner. She checked his armor and the coal-black tunic that covered it. She looked up at Jared. “No crest,” she announced.
“What the hell is going on?” Jared demanded.
With one swift movement, Taylor ripped the mask from the man’s face. She had half expected to know him on sight. But she had never seen the face that was revealed. She ran her blade across the mask she held in her hand, wiping it clean of blood. She turned to Jared, her eyes dark with determination. “That’s what I’m going to find out,” she vowed.
CHAPTER SIX
S lane was surprised at how easily he had been able to track Taylor. At first, Slane had dogged their steps, missing them by only as much as half a day. But by the end of that first week, their trail had suddenly disappeared, as if they had vanished into thin air.
Slane realized with mounting fury that she had been toying with him. She had allowed him to follow her, leading him through dangerous forests and crowded towns. When the game grew tedious, she had simply ended it, leaving him stranded.
For another week, he had hunted for any trace of them, searched, questioned, and analyzed until he was left with no options. Frustrated, disgruntled, and angry beyond rationality, Slane took a room at the Traveler’s Inn.
Now he sat alone in his room, pondering his misfortune within the confines of a large wooden tub. He shifted, moving his body lower in the steaming water. It was hopeless. He grabbed a ceramic pitcher from the floor next to the tub and poured its contents over his head, sighing heavily as the warm water splashed over his body, cleansing the dirt away. He would never find that deceitful wench. He banged the pitcher abruptly against the side of the tub before setting it back on the floor. His anger simmered hotly in his veins every time he thought of how easy it would have been to club her in the head, if only he had known she was the woman he was looking for. The clues had been there -- her strange behavior, her quick knowledge of the ring -- but he had been too blind to see them at the time. Too blind and just too damn stupid, he berated himself harshly.
Slane plunged his face into the water, trying to douse his growing rage, but the heat of the water only seemed to inflame his anger. When I find that accursed woman, I will wring her neck. She’ll learn the true meaning of respect. Slane pulled his head out of the water, and as several streams of the warm liquid trailed down his face, he felt a slow grin form on his lips. He saw himself teaching her the
Taylor turned to help Jared battle the last man standing. He swung an ax at Jared, and Jared ducked at the last moment, letting the blade whoosh over his head. From his crouched position, Jared thrust his sword. The blade bounced uselessly off of the man’s armor.
Taylor swung at the man, catching him in his shoulder. He yelped and swung the ax sharply at her, but she sidestepped the whistling blade and the ax buried itself into the ground. Taylor lashed out with her foot, kicking the man back.
Jared finished the man with a blow to his side. The blade pierced a gap in the attacker’s armor, and the man froze for a second before plummeting to the earth like a fallen tree.
Taylor whirled toward the forest, looking for any other attackers. But no one emerged.
“Are you all right?” Jared asked breathlessly.
Taylor nodded, turning to him. Her gaze swept her friend for any wounds, but there were none. When her heart stopped racing and she allowed her battle lust to fade, she knelt down by the fallen man and pushed him over onto his back. His face was covered with a black cloth, giving him the unnerving appearance of an executioner. She checked his armor and the coal-black tunic that covered it. She looked up at Jared. “No crest,” she announced.
“What the hell is going on?” Jared demanded.
With one swift movement, Taylor ripped the mask from the man’s face. She had half expected to know him on sight. But she had never seen the face that was revealed. She ran her blade across the mask she held in her hand, wiping it clean of blood. She turned to Jared, her eyes dark with determination. “That’s what I’m going to find out,” she vowed.
CHAPTER SIX
S lane was surprised at how easily he had been able to track Taylor. At first, Slane had dogged their steps, missing them by only as much as half a day. But by the end of that first week, their trail had suddenly disappeared, as if they had vanished into thin air.
Slane realized with mounting fury that she had been toying with him. She had allowed him to follow her, leading him through dangerous forests and crowded towns. When the game grew tedious, she had simply ended it, leaving him stranded.
For another week, he had hunted for any trace of them, searched, questioned, and analyzed until he was left with no options. Frustrated, disgruntled, and angry beyond rationality, Slane took a room at the Traveler’s Inn.
Now he sat alone in his room, pondering his misfortune within the confines of a large wooden tub. He shifted, moving his body lower in the steaming water. It was hopeless. He grabbed a ceramic pitcher from the floor next to the tub and poured its contents over his head, sighing heavily as the warm water splashed over his body, cleansing the dirt away. He would never find that deceitful wench. He banged the pitcher abruptly against the side of the tub before setting it back on the floor. His anger simmered hotly in his veins every time he thought of how easy it would have been to club her in the head, if only he had known she was the woman he was looking for. The clues had been there -- her strange behavior, her quick knowledge of the ring -- but he had been too blind to see them at the time. Too blind and just too damn stupid, he berated himself harshly.
Slane plunged his face into the water, trying to douse his growing rage, but the heat of the water only seemed to inflame his anger. When I find that accursed woman, I will wring her neck. She’ll learn the true meaning of respect. Slane pulled his head out of the water, and as several streams of the warm liquid trailed down his face, he felt a slow grin form on his lips. He saw himself teaching her the
Similar Books
