Kissed by Sun: The Men of Shadows Trilogy, #2

By Lynn Branch

A penchant for violence has earned Sergeant Lati Brooks a distinguished spot among the Queen's Guard at the pinnacle of the Fae military. Only the elite reached the lofty top tier, and she was content to live out her life doing what she did best.

 

Murder, with a smile on her face.

 

Recently, the human world had fallen over a precipice into despair, a nameless contagious disease turning them into undead monsters. She spent most of her time with her unit, disposing of the reeking creatures whenever they leaked over the border into the supernatural realm. 

 

Kill. Sleep. Repeat.

 

Her life was laid out neatly in front of her. Kick ass, get promoted, and live happily ever after. Alone. 

 

Because people let you down and swords don't. 

 

Her routine was her comfort until a disgustingly attractive dark elf prince stepped out from the tree line and sent her life into a spiral with two little words:

 

"It's you."

 

If the idiotic prophecy he was peddling proved correct, only Lati could help him save the mortal realm. 

 

All she had to do was die. 

 

TW: Violence, gore

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lynn Branch Romance
• Release date: Oct 2, 2022
• ISBN: 9798215550434

Lynn Branch

Lynn has always been passionate about writing and all things supernatural. She is a curious author from the big-little state of Idaho, USA who loves exploring through books. Lynn enjoys everything from witches and werewolves to Greek Mythology. She spends her days in a tornado of crazy cats and kooky kids, finding time in between to write the stories she feels are worth telling.

Book preview

Prologue

I sniffed the collar of my oversized plaid shirt and wrinkled my nose when I smelled the smoke from my mom’s cigarettes that saturated the fabric deeper than any cheap perfume could counter.

The smell didn’t stop me from pulling the material tighter around my neck. It was annoyingly cold today. The snow fell in a quiet flurry around me, and its fat, wet flakes stuck to my eyelashes and melted into the blonde curls that hung in my face.

Gods, I hated this cold. I cursed the winter, wincing at the pain in my toes as snow seeped into the holes of my worn shoes. Maybe the lost and found had a pair of boots I could steal. I wasn’t ever lucky enough to find anything in my exact size, but if they were close or a little big, I could make it work.  

Huffing out a deep breath as the back of the high school came into view, I shoved my wild curls out of my face and tried to smooth them.

Only one thousand two hundred and seventy-eight days left until graduation, and I could get out of here. Move to the inner city where no one knows me.

But the time left was daunting. I was only halfway through my freshman year, and I already wished I could just be done. Some idiotic part of me thought high school would differ from the torture I’d experienced during my primary years, but it seemed to worsen.

When I pushed open the door, I greeted the warm hallway with a breath of relief. I needed to steal a coat, a real one, if I could. My body shivered, and I tried to ignore the wrinkled noses shot my way as I trudged through my peers with the frayed cuffs of my too-long pants wet, muddy, and dragging behind me.

People, as usual, went out of their way to torment me, and an older boy fed me a firm shoulder that knocked me off balance. I thought of punching him in the face, but I was due for another in-school suspension if I beat anyone else up this semester. He laughed, cackling with his friends, and I lowered my head and found my way to my locker.

That’s the life you live when your mother is Crazy Daisy.

Hey, Lati, a sweet voice called, and I tensed, unsure who she could be talking to. I was the only Lati I knew.

It was Lily, a senior girl. I didn’t understand how she even knew my name. My cheeks burned as I tried again and failed to smooth my unruly hair behind my ear. I tilted my face up, staring at her. Like most Fae, she was tall and slender, and her pointed ears stuck through the russet waves of her hair that looked so soft it could be spun as silk.

I looked up to everyone, being much shorter than my peers. They teased me, telling me my mother was too drunk to feed me as a child, so I didn’t grow. Sometimes I wondered if they were right.

Lily? I asked, glancing around.

We had several spectators, curious kids, all wondering the same thing I was. What was Lily Gastrell doing talking to me?

I stared up at her, jealous of her porcelain beauty and long, perfect hair. She knew how to put makeup on, too, like some kind of professional. The flare of the black liner and tilt of mascara accentuated her already beautiful eyes, the color of a well-watered lawn. I wondered if she’d learned on the internet, and wished I could, but Mom and I couldn’t afford it.

I love your shirt, she said, her voice breathy and smoky.

I glanced down at the dirty plaid, my face heating.

Uh, thanks.

Where’d you get it? It’s so retro.

I don’t remember, I lied, not willing to admit I’d taken it from the lost and found, where most of my mismatched clothes came from.

So, she said, reaching into her bag. I got this new makeup palette, and I just thought, wow, you know who these colors would just love?

Who? I asked, dumbstruck.

She giggled, the feminine sound akin to tinkling bells. You! Come to the bathroom with me. I want to try this shade on you.

She pointed to a soft purple square in the palette, and I gazed longingly at it. I’d never worn makeup before. Grabbing my hand, she pulled me towards the girls’ room, and I followed. People gaped, as confused as I was.

She had me sit on the counter and proceeded to do my makeup, chatting with me about her boyfriend as if I could offer any counsel about guys when one hadn’t ever looked my way. I laughed a lot, though. She was funny, and I was awestruck at her kindness. The bell rang, signifying the start of first period, and she sighed.

Okay, that looks amazing, she squealed, grinning down at me. Close your eyes.

I did, my cheeks heating with excitement while she helped me down and turned me to the mirror. My eyes whipped open, and I glimpsed myself, gasping at how different I looked with the pretty purple shadow and black liner.

But my eyes drifted, and I realized there were five other girls here, all seniors. They had been hiding in the stalls, and sneered in the mirror, watching me.

Gods, Lily, one, a slender redhead named Orchid said, how did you survive that? I could smell her from the stall.

They all giggled, Lily included. I know. I just held my breath.

She tossed all the brand-new makeup she’d just used on me in the trash, a look of disgust pulling her features. My face burned hot, humiliation threatening to stop my heart. I watched my own eyes widen in the mirror and I tried to run, attempting to push by them. They grabbed me, laughing in giddy excitement and feeding off each other’s cruelty.

Let me go! I begged, tears welling in my eyes.

Something whirred to life, a mechanical sound, and I felt the first buzz of it across my scalp just above my left ear. I registered a kiss of air against my head and saw a chunk of blonde curls drift to the floor.

They were shaving my head and laughing like it was a game.

I screamed, hoping someone would be in the hall to hear me. No one came.

Why? Please don’t, I grunted, trying to break free as the five of them held me, and the other ran the clipper across my head again, shaving another strip away just above the first spot.

We’re helping! We heard you had lice! one screeched, but I wasn’t sure who.

I was pushed belly down to the floor, my cheek shoved against the tile where the dirty snow had melted into mud. The small rocks cut into my face, determined to add insult to injury.

Buzz. Another chunk fell free, colliding with the tears sliding to the end of my nose.

Buzz. I yelped, feeling the pinch of the blades sear into my head as they got too close.

The entire side of my head was shaved now, but I felt my rage welling alongside the fresh blood. Something wicked lived in my heart, and when I lost my temper, people got hurt.

It looked like I’d be getting an in-school suspension after all.

Ripping my hand free, I snatched the clippers and threw them blindly, hearing them smack into a stall door. The girl on my back hissed in annoyance, and I reached up behind me and grabbed her silky black hair, pulling until I ripped a chunk free.

She screamed like a wounded cat, and the absence of her weight freed me enough I could turn over. My hand struck out and caught Orchid straight on her cute button nose. It collapsed under my fist, and she fell back, shrieking.

The others hesitated, loosening their grips on my legs.

Bad choice.

I kicked both at once, catching one in the chest with my right foot and the other just under the chin with my left. Her teeth clacked together, and she stumbled back, holding her bleeding mouth.

Gods! You’re such a psycho! Lily screamed at me, her voice shrill, and I rolled back over my head and crouched.

You’ve got that right, I spat. The blood from the cut on my head trickled down the side of my head and into my eye.

I’d been fighting my whole damn life. I was a scrapper, and I refused to be humiliated on a dirty bathroom floor by a bunch of spoiled brats. If there was one thing I did well in this life, it was beating the shit out of people. They all knew that. It was why a lot of people just left me alone, content to only glare or wrinkle their noses at me. These girls must’ve thought they’d be okay between the six of them.

You wanna see how crazy I can get? I sneered, grinning and stepping at her.

Lily shifted back, and then I laughed as they stumbled over each other to get out the door. When I glimpsed myself in the mirror, I saw the makeup had streaked down my face alongside my tears, and my head was half shaven and bloody.

Sniffling, I wiped at my face and nose with my dirty plaid sleeve. I stared into my mismatched eyes, one green and one blue, knowing I was looking at a jackass.

What did you think?! I screamed at my haunted reflection, more tears filling my eyes, "That she actually wanted to be your friend? Rage welled, erupting again, and I hauled back, punching the mirror. It splintered, and the shards cut my knuckles, but my temper wasn’t sated. My fist busted the glass again, sending pieces flying and burying several into my hand. I looked at my distorted face in the spiderweb of glass and laughed dryly, shaking my head. Screw this place."

A two-inch piece of glass was buried deep in between my pointer and middle finger. With a shaky hand, I grabbed it and yanked it free, tossing it on top of the makeup in the trash. Without another thought, I spun on my heel and walked out of the bathroom, headed for the exit. I was leaving. Maybe I wouldn’t ever come back.

I turned the corner down the hall, and as if it were a sign from the worthless gods themselves, the janitors were hanging a poster.

Do you have what it takes?

Join the Guard.

The King’s and Queen’s Guard were an elite branch of the military. But I knew it was expensive to join, and that you had to pay for the boarding as a high school recruit. Rich kid stuff. That didn’t even guarantee you’d be chosen in the end. You had to be the best. You had to beat the best.

Smaller print drew my eye to the bottom of the poster.

Scholarships are available for those found to have exceptional promise.

Well, I was exceptional at beating the shit out of people.

I looked up at the picture of the armor-clad man and woman. Their shining silver armor adorned with the royal emblem, a golden mermaid, glinted in the sun. Focusing on the woman, I stared into her sharp, unforgiving eyes, and I'd bet every measly dollar I owned that no one dared push her face into the mud.

Chapter One

Ten Years Later

I didn’t know why that stupid memory haunted me. The feel of the clippers against my head was always as fresh as the day it had happened. Maybe it was here to remind me no one would ever humiliate me like that again.

What’re you thinking about, Sarge? Rose asked from her branch, both of us high up a pine tree.

My answer was honest. How shitty high school was.

Fuck’s sake, why would you think about that? She wrinkled her nose in disgust and pulled a black flask from her belt line. After she took a drink, she tossed it to me. I liked Rose. She was a scholarship kid like me and grew up in some podunk settlement in the middle of the woods.

Tell me what you think about that. It’s my new batch. Cherry.

I unscrewed the cap and took a swig, trying not to cough. Rose and her moonshine.

Gods’ sake, Rose, that’s nearly as rank as you.

I tossed it back to her, and she chuckled. If it’s like me, then it must be perfect.

Does it have an octane rating?

Probably. Does the job, though. I guarantee you’ll black out or your money back.

I laughed, leaning my head against the tree.

Quiet night, she said. Maybe the reeks will give us a break.

I groaned and glared at her, hearing several other sounds of disapproval float our way from the surrounding trees.

Now you’ve done it, you dumbass! Poppy called from her perch, clicking her tongue. "You never say it out loud."

As if on cue, we heard inhuman shrieks and growls traveling through the fog. I sighed, sitting forward so I could see. My squad, the ten fine young ladies—I nearly laughed—ladies wasn’t the right word. The ten fine young soldiers in my command shifted in their spots. Like most fae women, they were all named for flowers.

A lovely bouquet, each thorny bloom able to rip your tongue out through your throat and not bat an eyelash. My mom didn’t get the memo about naming girls, and dubbed me Lati instead of something floral, because she just liked it.

Lati used to be the basic monetary unit in Latvia, but my mother didn’t know that when she picked it. The woman accidentally named me after money, and I was the kid with the least amount of it growing up. Who doesn’t love some fun irony?

Further up the draw, I heard the hoot of an owl, a signal that Zinnia had eyes on the reeks. I listened, waiting for another call. It was two caws of a crow that came next, telling us that there were over twenty but less than thirty to kill.

I signaled to the surrounding trees to hold, watching where the small canyon emptied into the valley. Within a few seconds, an unholy shriek sounded, and I saw the first of them pouring out of the mouth of the draw. These things—reeks we called them because they smelled like ass—were a product of a plague that had ruined the human world. They poured over our borders in larger numbers every day as humans were turned at a higher rate, the sickness swarming their world.

They were humanoid but moved on all fours like animals. Their white skin looked like a latex suit of pearl stretched over their bodies, and they didn’t have hair, navels, or genitals anymore.

All mortals could be infected, and I’d once witnessed when a person turned. They ripped their true skin away in pieces to reveal this strange white flesh beneath. Their eyes blacked out, becoming pits of ink that lacked any semblance of humanity, and their jaws were disjointed, opening much larger than possible. One bite, and you would either fall to the sickness or turn into a reek.

The one in front stood, sucking air into the black pit where its nose used to be. Scenting us. They were ravenous beasts, always searching for flesh to consume. Rose sat up next to me, sliding her daggers from their place on her hips. She was my newest soldier, so she was green and desperate to please me. I held up my hand, signaling for her to hold. Running in too early could get you fucked up.

That I’d learned the hard way.

As they collected at the opening of the draw, I put my hands over my mouth and trilled like a sparrow. My girls at the top of the draw, now behind the reeks, would start the attack from that side.

When I heard the first pained shrieks from the beasts, I put my fist up and opened twice. The six of us in the valley jumped down from our perches and moved forward in a crouch. I heard blades sliding, and we prepared to jump the collected group at the mouth of the draw.

I pulled my own blade from my waist, a short sword, my favorite weapon because it held a high enough iron and silver content in its steel to kill both a dark elf and a rogue wolf shifter. No need to wield two different weapons.

The intricate hand guard fell into my palm with a familiar embrace, as if to say hello, old friend. My other hand balled into a fist and opened, flexing with the excitement of a fight.

I stood, lunging to catch the first creature by surprise, and thrust my sword through its temple. My team exploded forward, catching several of the beasts unaware. I watched Rose sidestep one easily and push her dagger into its eye, her raven hair flowing as she spun and thrust her other blade through the exposed nape of the next.

These things were fast and aggressive, but they were dumb. There wasn’t any sense of fighting in them, so as long as they didn’t overwhelm with numbers, they were easy to kill.

I spun through them, lost in the dance of death, and I dispatched at least ten in less than a minute. My girls did the rest, having been honed into the loveliest weapons of slaughter I’d ever seen.

Most fae weren’t like us. They were light, fun loving beings who loved to party. Gone were the times of old when our race was serious and stern and regal. These days, fae celebrated life, and I enjoyed a good party as much as anyone, but my ideas of fun were a little twisted. If you’re not bleeding, are you even having a good time?

I fit in better with soldiers than I ever had with anyone else, but I was still an outlier. If I didn’t keep my beast of rage under control, I found myself under the scrutiny of those same looks of disgust, horror, and fear that I’d seen in the girls’ bathroom the day they shaved my head. Apparently, beating something to death with your bare hands is just a little bit too barbaric for cultured society.

So I kept it in check, never letting myself go over that edge. If the rage spiraled out of control, I hurt people even when I didn’t want to.

That’s it! someone called.

Altogether we killed twenty-eight reeks, and I met Zinnia in the middle of the slaughter. She grinned at me, the reeking, black blood splattered on her face and dotting the ash blonde hair of her tight ponytail.

Sheathing my blade, I looked up at the sky. The position of the moon told me it was well past midnight, and that we could return to the palace.

Split up, groups of two. We’ll walk the line back to the palace and make sure we didn’t miss any. Rose buys the drinks when we get home, since she doesn’t know when to keep her damn mouth shut.

Everyone agreed, jeering at her in good humor, and then laughing and patting her shoulder.

She shrugged. Sorry. I was so godsdamned bored up there.

That hurts, I said, placing my hand against my chest in mock offense. You don’t like my company?

She scrunched her face sympathetically. Sorry, boss. It’s a bit like hanging out with a wet dishcloth.

Weird. That’s not what your dad was saying to me last night.

Everyone guffawed, giggling.

"Your dad jokes? Really, Sarge? she teased, trying her hardest to keep her best poker face from cracking. I thought you were above that."

I stepped forward, looking up at her with my most serious expression. I am above it. It's not a joke.

After a tense moment, I couldn’t hold my composure anymore and cackled at her concerned expression. She was really wondering if I slept with her dad.

Everyone paired off, Rose with me, and we all spread out into the misty quiet of the forest. She and I took the border side, most likely to see action if there was any to be had.

We walked silently, our footfalls light, and our hands on our weapons. The summer night was mild, and the moon was bright, making for a nice stroll. It seemed we would make it without incident when the crack of a stick stopped me in my tracks.

I held up my hand to halt Rose and drew my sword. She pulled her daggers, and we listened. From nowhere, several more sticks snapped and then there were reeks right on top of us, pouring out of the tree line from the incline above. The shrieks started, and it seemed they were as surprised to see us as we were them. They jumped down the steep embankment without any thought towards injury, swarming us.

We sprang into action, slicing and impaling as many as we could. At some point, I was separated from Rose and cursed myself for allowing it to happen. I could hear her screaming, and the icy hand of dread wrapped around my heart.

Four were pushing me, and I cut through them with one smooth, spinning move. The scream Rose pelted proved quick to curdle the blood in my veins, and I yelled out her name.

One had clamped down on her leg, chewing viciously, and another was attempting to bite her throat. She held the one over her chest at bay, but just barely. I leapt at them, stabbing one through the back of the skull and slicing clean through the spinal cord of the other.

Oh, fuck! I’ve been bitten! My leg!

She was clawing at the leather shin guard, trying to remove it.

No, I hissed, it's just scratched you.

No! No, it bit me. I’m fuckin’ done, Sarge, she said, sobbing.

I turned and punched her in the jaw, knocking her out cold.

No, you’re not, I said, unbuckling her shin guard.

One tooth had managed to squeeze through and pierce her flesh. My hands heated, drawn to the wound as they had been for as long as I could remember. I clasped my palm over it, and I felt the pull of whatever magic lived in my soul.

I wasn’t a healer. My ability didn’t weave flesh back together, but I could purify anything. I could pull poison, sickness, and any other infectious thing out of flesh. I’d never told a soul, already an outcast, and not willing to ostracize myself further.

Before the reeks invaded, the gift was somewhat worthless, something I used to save an occasional sick animal. Fae didn’t take to infection easily, and only really nasty wounds needed treatment.

Resting on Rose’s leg, my hand glowed, and I felt the infection being taken into my body. When it was all gone from her wound, I turned and vomited something akin to black tar. It tasted like rot and ash, the same way these creatures smelled, and I spit several times, trying to clear it from my mouth.

Snatching up the creature’s hand, I ran a sharp nail over Rose’s wound, obscuring the bite so it looked like a scratch. Studying my work, I felt it was passable.

I threw her over my shoulder, determined to carry her home, when the hair on my neck prickled in warning. I whirled, scanning the tree line behind me.

A figure stepped out, and I stiffened, glaring at him.

As soon as I realized what I was looking at, I dropped Rose with a dull thud and my hand fell to the hilt of my sword.

You’re a long way from home, I said, my tone casual.

He walked forward, and I studied him. Broader and taller than average, I’d never seen a dark elf his size. His massive form made me look more petite than usual. Good. The larger they are, the harder they fall. I lived for being underestimated.

My adrenaline spiked at the thought of crossing swords. Holy shit—a real fight. I was tired of butchering brainless undead flesh-lumps that posed no challenge.

We glared at each other, mutual disgust filling the air between us.

What did you do to her? he asked, eyeing me with open suspicion.

I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.

Well, now I had to kill him. He’d seen too much.

Foolish of you to be here, I said, clicking my tongue. Unfortunately for you, I’m in the business of killing fools.

He curled his lip at me, and I noticed the silver circlet on his head, contrasting brightly against his raven hair. Arching a brow, I added, Your Majesty? My, my, what an honor.

A spoiled dark elf prince, topside and in fae territory. The world really had gone to absolute shit for these roaches to have crawled free from their hole beneath the mountain.

He stepped closer, and I was stunned to see he had silver eyes. That was impossible, especially for a prince. Dark elves had black irises, always.

They stood out so intensely it unsettled me, and I took a step back. Why are you here? Don’t you have a hole to hide in?

His head was shaved on the sides, the top left long and pulled to his nape, where several tiny braids started and hung down his back. He may be a spoiled prince, but he looked like a warrior.

A disturbing notion clawed through my learned disgust for the vile race, and I frowned. I actually thought he was somewhat handsome. Maybe I’d punch myself in the face for that later.

I am searching for someone, he said, sucking air through his teeth in annoyance. "I seek my bride."

His deep voice dripped with formal education. Aristocratic, like he’d attended the finest school in the Underground. Rich kid stuff.

The way he enunciated the word bride didn’t sound as though he was glad to be looking for her. I titled my head and laughed. Well, no brides here, I’m afraid. We’d rather run our own blades through our hearts than marry you.

As would I, he hissed, stepping toward me. But it’s what must be done.

I furrowed my brow and drew my weapon due to his proximity.

He reacted, grinning, and pulling two ruby adorned swords from his belt.

You don’t want to do that, tiny fairy, he warned, chuckling darkly. Are you actually a fae, or am I facing a sprite?

Sprites were cousins of the fae, no larger than a small child. Technically, dark elves were also cousins of the fae, but we’d cut our own throats before we’d admit that.

A thousand years ago, our people were one race, but we’d diverged when a crazed group of fae became obsessed with serving the Goddess of Night, Nyx. They committed to a life of darkness, calling themselves slia, the people of the mountain. Fae didn’t acknowledge their chosen name, simply calling them dark elves.

The split had fostered a mutual hatred that had festered into downright disgust over the last millennia. They were bloodthirsty, barbaric xenophobes. And the absolute opposite of fun.

I bristled, and my lips curled in an annoyed smirk. "I do want to, actually. I live for it, Your Highness. Can you pull the silver spoon out of your mouth long enough to fight someone that actually knows how?"

He chuckled and sheathed one of the swords. I’ll only use one, then. I don’t want too much of an advantage.

If you want a fair fight, you better use both, I said, spinning my sword in my hand.

He frowned at that, and there was a beat of hate filled tension between us. I let him make the first move, lunging at me with a series of explosive offensive strikes. I would be a liar if I didn’t admit it caught me off-guard. He was much too quick for his size, so I could only block and parry, my light feet dancing through the grass and throwing pine needles as I backed up.

When his attack ended, I countered, stepping to the side, and narrowly avoiding a swing of his sword. My blade sliced across the meat of his thigh, cutting deep like the razor it was.

He hissed in a surprised breath, and I continued to move around him, creating some space between us. I could see how stunned he was, and I giggled.

Not holdin’ back on me, are you, big guy?

He grinned, and I saw it, then. The same look of excitement that filled my own eyes at a challenge. The prince moved at me, more aggressive this time, and I again danced away from his strikes. I knew I couldn’t get too close. If this brute managed to get his hands on me, it would be bad news for my team.

Quit running, he taunted, smirking.

We fought for several minutes, which in serious swordplay is exhausting. He managed to slice me across the belly, my leather cuirass barely saving me from having my insides on the outside. It’d be a wicked scar though, as the blade was steel with a high concentration of iron. Fae’s bane.

Not that I gave a shit. I had plenty of scars.

Neither of us could pull a commanding upper hand, and I was impressed. No one had offered me a serious fight in a long time. I may be small, but I was quick and strong. Built like a brick shit house, my commander liked to say, and too bat-shit crazy to lose. I saw steel determination in his eyes, but I could tell he was stunned that I was proving to be such a challenge.

I snickered, panting, and asking, What will they say when they find out their prince couldn’t even best a sprite?

As predicted, he moved at me again. I spun, assaulting him with my own aggressive counter move. He didn’t expect it, and I sliced through his bicep to the bone. I didn’t stop the move, and twisted into him, hitting his wrist with my closed fist. At the same time, he smacked my sword from my hand in a brilliant counter.

Our blades dropped, and I threw a strong upper cut to the underside of his chin. It connected, and he grunted in pain. But I’d overstepped too much, letting him get his hands on me, and he turned me around. His arm wrapped around my neck in a chokehold, and I pushed my chin down to keep him from applying firm pressure.

He was stupid strong, and despite my efforts, black dots invaded my vision. If I passed out, I was dead.

I slammed my foot down on his toes and thrust my elbow back into his solar plexus, making his breath push out in a rough grunt. Then I bit his forearm, sinking my teeth deep into his bare flesh. Not exactly the most honorable method, but I didn't lose.

He hissed in pain, and I dropped from his grasp, crawling like a bear for a few feet to get away.

When I rose, he was right behind me, barreling into me like an angry bull and smashing me against a tree. The breath left my body, and our eyes locked. Up close I could see he had a circle of black around his silver irises, attributing to their piercing appearance.

He gasped, and his grip on me loosened. Shocked silver eyes searched my face, him saying, "It’s you."

I pulled in a painful breath and slammed my knee into his groin. His eyes went wide as saucers and he grunted in surprise, hissing, "Gods! Thua soeith."

He was speaking the old language, ancient fae, but I was nowhere near fluent. Thua was you, but I didn’t know the other word. I had a tiny inkling it was something rude.

I lifted my ankle to my hand, finding the small push dagger nestled in my boot. It was silver, not iron, so it wouldn’t kill him. But it would certainly hurt.

I had no idea what he meant by, "it’s you," but I didn’t care.

That’s right, asshole, it’s me, I said, shoving the blade into his right rib cage. I bet you’ll never forget me, either.

He sucked in a breath, and I kicked him right where I’d just stuck the blade, sending it deep into his lung. I win, big guy.

The prince glared at me and drew a ragged breath. Wait, he gasped, you don’t understand.

Howls just up the ridge told me another group of reeks was nearly upon us.

Sorry, Your Highness. I’ve gotta go. It was fun, though. Call me, I teased, grinning, and winking at him with my hand in a phone gesture by my ear.

With that, I snatched up my sword and sheathed it, running as the howls grew louder. Picking up Rose again, I left the prince with his punctured lung to fight the undead alone.

Chapter Two

No, it bit me, Rose said, confusion pulling her brows together. I know it did.

I shrugged. Obviously not. There’s no infection, right, Doc?

The doctor frowned, examining the wound. No, there isn’t. But this wound is suspicious. It could be a bite.

I held my face in a stern frown, not giving anything away.

He scribbled something on his clipboard and then looked at me. We’ll quarantine her for a week. If nothing appears, I’ll clear her for duty.

Rose groaned, throwing up her hands. "What? Come on, I can’t sit in here for a week."

Next time you’ll be sure not to let them get you down, you dumbass, I scolded. Then I patted her shoulder, relieved she was going to be alright. I’ll come see you tomorrow.

What about you? she asked, indicating my stomach. Don’t you need somethin’ for that?

I glanced down. Blood clotted around the opening in the leather of my cuirass.

This was made by iron, the doctor commented, prodding the wound in a way that made me want to sock him. Iron wounds healed slowly, negating the supernatural healing abilities of the fae. Mine still healed quicker than most, though. Why that was, I didn’t know.

I’m good, I said, smacking his hand away. I need to go speak to my commander.

Hey, Sarge, Rose said, if you see Posey, will you send her my way?

She was grinning, a teasing lilt to her words.

"You’re asking your commanding officer to