It was long past sunset when they heard the trumpet sound.
Nikol didn’t let her guard down. Just because the treaty had been signed didn’t mean the enemy would-
She spat out a Working as someone tried to hamstring her and kicked him in the face. He must have good night vision – or, like her, know where everyone on the field was in a ten-foot radius.
She put her boot on his neck and spat out a couple more Workings, her blade poking into him where it would slip through his ribs and cut into his intestines if he got too rambunctious. “Surrender,” she suggested. Nobody else was moving. She didn’t have to kill him.
The trumpet sounded again. The man under her boot spat out something that was probably not a surrender. “Prisoners of war go to the Mountain,” she told him, letting her blade break the skin. “On the other hand, personal prisoners stay with their captors.”
“Not a prisoner,” he grunted. He was not trying to get away, which was clever, but which also made her wonder what he was trying. Continue reading