It began with a scream.
Not loud, no battle cry, no warning but a sharp, cut-off sound, as though someone's breath had been ripped from their throat. It silenced the camp in an instant.
Then the shadows moved.
Figures broke from the dark with blades drawn, faces half-lit by the faint embers. The mutineers. Men whose whispers had poisoned the air all day now lunged with murder in their hands.
The first victim was not Aria. It was one of the women by the far edge of the camp, throat opened, her child wailing as blood soaked the dirt. The killers didn't care. Their path cut straight toward Aria and the stretcher at her side.
Nora was already up, blade flashing. "Stay down!" she barked, her voice cutting through the chaos. She met the first attacker head-on, steel ringing against steel. Sparks burst, screams followed.
