Family.
It irks that a word so contaminated in my mind contains such power. I gave it power and gifted it to my friends. I would kill myself before letting it cross my lips for any of my remaining blood relations.
My few belongings are packed in the old brown satchel I stole off a sleeping merchant on the Fisan coastal road eight years ago. Some clothes and a pair of old boots, a cloak, three throwing daggers, a few hair ties, a comb, and my stage cosmetics—everything I possess. I strap the circus’s bedroll and blanket to the ties at the bottom of my bag. I don’t think Selena will mind. It’s hardly theft at this point.
Straightening, I think about my next step. When Poseidon gave me my gifts, he also gave me his obsession. The frigid northern lakes and the Fisan Ocean are both about three weeks out of my reach. As usual, that means settling for a Sintan stream. It’s still water, even if it’s warm. I’ll stop at the creek, somehow get out of my pants, clean up, cool down, and then… I don’t know. Nothing will ever change, no matter where I go. I’ll still live in fear, the black crow of dread circling my head.
The circus was different. With Selena and Cerberus here, I almost felt safe—safe until that dratted warlord decided to stick his big, hooked nose into my life.
Growling in frustration, I look around my tent for the last time. No one will see me leave. Where I’m concerned, stealth reaches an entirely new level.
The warlord’s taken this from me. Home and family mean something to most people. I never understood what it was until Selena took me in, and Aetos and Desma decided I was theirs. They’re mine, too. Leaving them is like cutting off a limb.
Deep breath in. Long breath out. Cats don’t cry.
My tent flap snaps open, and the warlord fills the doorway, a mass of shadow and steel.
I freeze, stunned. Disbelief leaves a sour taste in my mouth. “H-How did you get back here?”
He steps inside, crosses his arms, and leans casually against the tent post. The torch pops, sending a flicker of firelight over him that illuminates his inky hair and sun-bronzed skin. The wavering glow highlights the hard muscles rippling under his rolled-up sleeves, tapering down to corded forearms, thick wrists, and powerful hands. Hands that could break me in two.
His teeth flash. Wolfish. Confident. “I have my ways.”
My mouth falls open, and a shiver scrambles down my spine. I’m rarely at a loss for words.
“You took my copper and didn’t evaluate my last man.” He nods to his final companion. “Kato. You’re up.”
The last man ambles forward, casual, followed by Carver and Flynn. They’re all so relaxed. What’s wrong with these people? Don’t they know the world is falling down around my ears?
The man called Kato stops a few feet from me. I take him in with a glance. He’s big, blond, and almost impossibly handsome, with startling cobalt eyes. The mace he carries tells me he’d rather bludgeon than slice. I get that. There’s something satisfying about whacking people over the head.
Backing up, I dig around in my pocket, which is not easy, and pull out one of the warlord’s coppers. “Here’s your coin. Now get out.” I throw the copper at him.
He catches it on reflex and then tosses it back, hitting me in the chest.
I glare at him, fuming.
“I’m loyal,” Kato volunteers cheerfully. He looks like he’s always happy. There are smile lines etched into the tanned skin around his mouth and eyes, and perfect teeth like his are just made to be shown off with a grin.
I scowl at the blond warrior now, reluctantly noting that he’s a rather perfect specimen of a man while giving him a heaping dose of the evil eye. There’s no soul ripping this time, and everyone knows it.
Apparently satisfied, the warlord steps closer. “Now that that’s settled, you’re coming with me.”
I snort, stepping back. “Never in a billion suns. Not even if Zeus showed up as a swan and tried to peck me in your direction. I wouldn’t go with you even if my other option was Hades dragging me to the Underworld for an eternal threesome with Persephone.”
The warlord pierces me with a hard stare. “We can do this the easy way, or the hard way.”
“Or no way,” I retort.
He lunges for me. The tent is small, and he’s shockingly fast. His hands close around my upper arms, and satisfaction flares in his eyes. “Not poisonous anymore?”
“A shame.” I stomp on his foot, crushing with the heel of my boot.
He laughs. Bastard.
I disappear. I’m still there, just invisible, and he lets go. They always do. The warlord lets out a sound somewhere between a snarl and a grunt and stares at his empty hands. It never occurs to people to just hold on.
I inch away, silent. Four men block the door. They shed their casualness like it’s a second skin, becoming battle ready in an instant, alert, the air around them charged with tension.
“Guard the door,” the warlord rumbles. “She’s still here.”
Gods damn it! I glance around. There’s no escaping under the tent. The material is tight and flush to the ground. Aetos drove the spikes in for me, and it’ll take Aetos’s muscles to get them out again. There’s a knife in my belt. I could slice the canvas, but by the time there’s an opening I could fit through, the warlord would be on top of me. My only option is to draw them away from the door. If Flynn and his giant ax would move about a foot to the right, I could probably slip through.
The silence in the tent is absolute. I don’t even hear them breathing. Then the warlord turns and looks straight at me. Impossible.