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The blade shimmered, polished steel reflecting the waning sunlight filtering through the sheer curtain of the window. Gold filigree traced sinuous patterns along the fuller, coming together to form the image of a coiled dragon, its head and forked tongue facing the sword’s point. A single ruby eye glinted.
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Looks angry.
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Exquisite craftsmanship, really—a work of lethal art. I might have admired its beauty more if its tip wasn’t under my chin, lifting my head to the man above me.
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“This will all be over soon, pet. I just need information.”
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Pet? I was going to have to kill him. A pity—his angular features and espresso eyes might have been handsome if he weren’t so condescending.
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And trying to murder me.
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But first, I needed to get out of this mess. The only exit was the door behind him, and the other two blocked the way; hulking bastards who would never be accused of being handsome. One had a scar running from his nose to his ear. The other was missing a front tooth. Both leered at me.
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Think.
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My twin dragons rested heavily against my hips, but handsome was staring at my hands. I was fast, but that sword was too close.
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Crimson, decorative dragons adorned the firearms provided me by the Church. Hence their name. They were Taispur’s gift. Too bad the little bastards were just decorative. I could use some help.
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“I don’t know what you—”
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“You’re Lyra Turntheed. Paladin of the Church. Don’t lie to me. We seen the hat.”
That white hat. Gives me away every time.
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“Maybe there are more fun ways to make her talk, eh boys?” Handsome man called to his thugs. His curled mustache rose when he smiled. They chuckled, a nasty sound.
The blade shifted, drawing a thin line of blood at my neck. I hissed.
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Need more time.
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“Okay. Fine. I’ll tell you all you want to know. Just get this sword from my throat.”
His eyes narrowed. “Remove those bangers first, nice and slow.”
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I slowly unbuckled the holster. The big Bodin knife and dragons slipped from my waist. He reached for them, but I slid the holster, knife and all, across the rough wood floor.
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“Bitch.”
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But he moved the sword away from my throat. I reached up and wiped the blood from my neck, just a scratch.
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“Now, where are the Tithe-Wagons. I know what they carried, and I know where they were headed. But where they should have been, all we found was you.”
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Because I’m not a moron. I’d been tracking the mole in Redridge for months. And since you jumped me here, I now know his identity: Welker, Captain of the Guard. I was stupid to believe anyone could be honorable these days.
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“That’s gold meant for Taispur. You really want to steal from God?”
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He laughed. “I don’t think he has much use for it. But we do.” The morons behind him laughed. He turned to bathe in it.
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I moved fast. Grabbing the wrist of his sword arm and wrapping my other arm over his tricep to grab my wrist, I wrenched with all my strength. His arm twisted behind him, and something crunched. He howled, and the gilded blade clattered to the floor.
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I followed with a kick to his knee. It buckled, and he crashed to the floor. Behind him, his two goons fumbled for their weapons.
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I dove for the sword, rolling and coming up on one knee. Scarface rushed me, axe raised. He was strong, but I was faster. I feinted left, then slashed right. The sword sliced deep into his thigh. He screamed and fell.
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Ripping the blade free, I spun to face toothless. He’d drawn a crossbolt and had it leveled at my head. I froze. At this range, he couldn’t miss.
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“Bitch paladin dies now.” He grinned. I couldn’t look away from that hole where his front tooth should have been.
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A thunderous crack, and toothless jerked, a bloom of red exploding from his chest. He crumpled, revealing Mr. Handsome standing behind him, a dragon in his hand, its barrel smoking.
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“I said no killing.” He shook his head. “You can’t get good help these days.”
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I stared deep into his dark eyes and smiled.
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“No killing, huh? So, I guess I’ll be taking that.” I nodded at the dragon.
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He shook his head. “I need to know about the gold.”
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“So you’ll kill me after I tell you?”
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He shrugged. “Not necessarily.”
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I took a step toward him. He raised the dragon and fired. My calf erupted in pain as the load passed through the meat. I fell.
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“That’ll slow you down.”
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Shit, that hurt. I clenched my jaw and used the sword as a crutch to rise to my feet as he hobbled over, stopping just out of the sword’s reach.
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To suffer is to learn and what follows is wisdom brought by the awful grace of Taispur. They had drilled it into our heads at the Academy. Ignore the pain.
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I lunged, batting the dragon from his hand with the flat of my blade and leveling the point at his throat.
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“Don’t. Move,” I growled.
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Fury and fear warred on his face for an instant before settling on a sneer. “You don’t have the stones. You Paladin are all the same —soft.”
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I have all the information I need from this one.
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I placed my open right hand on the back of the pommel and slammed the point into the meat of his neck with a satisfying gurgle.
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He crumpled and lay still; the wheezing splosh lasting only a minute.
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I cut a sash from his tunic and tied off the wound in my calf. I scooped up the dragon, hobbled over, and put on the holster. The familiar, comforting weight of the dragons at my hips anchored me.
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Scarface was pretending to be unconscious.
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I kicked him with my boot. “What happened to your bravado?”
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He opened a single eye. “Please don’t kill me.”
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I smirked. “I’m not. Tell all your friends. Don’t cross the Paladin with the long, dark hair.”
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Always leave one.
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I stepped over him and limped out into the blood-red sunset. Justice awaited, and Taispur help anyone who stood in my way.