Page 80 of Hellbound

“Branimir—she just—killed Bran.”

“Quiet. Now, we make her pay,” the nobleman said shakily, extracting his own weapon. “It’s two of us, one of her.”

His friend trembled but readied his crossbow, his fingers scrabbling for a bolt before slipping around the shaft and dropping it.

Ksenia darted forward and wrenched her blade from the corpse’s head with a wet sucking sound. She pivoted and leaped for the crossbow man’s neck. He squealed, pressing the trigger of his empty crossbow on instinct.

A flash of silver came from her periphery, the mirrored blade of the polearm slicing the air before her, and she leaned away, unfazed.

“I can’t chase both of you at the same time.” She cupped her hand and whispered to the nobleman, “If you run, you might survive.”

Seeing the hesitation in the sway of his spear tip, Ksenia ducked beneath its shaft and buried Caromir deep into the tender hollow beneath the crossbow wielder’s chin.

The edge of her blade bisected his tongue and buried into the roof of his mouth.

Dark blood filled the man’s orifice and spilled out of his gaping mouth.

That euphoric rush doubled back, and a terrible smile painted itself across her face. She was glowing with blood and anticipation.

The nobleman’s sense of self-preservation slammed back into his body, and he abandoned his weapon, sprinting down a path behind him.

Hellbound blades couldn’t replace cowardice.

“Your friend was right. I didn’t have anyone to chase this evening,” she called, walking behind him. “Thank you for fixing that.”

“Guards, guards!” the man screamed into the hedges. But no alarm came. No hounds. No help.

Listen…

She paused. His footfall pounded for the exit she had come through.

His feet crashed through the underbrush, turning every which way in search of the exit.

Her steps were even and light as she made her way back.

His body slammed against the hedge as he rounded the corner. Hornbeam leaves sliced his exposed skin, leaving his cheek bloodied and his eyes wild.

Ksenia stood in front of the exit, hands clasped behind her back.

“You know this maze well. I only know a little bit of it.” Her laugh was light. “I still chose right.”

“Who are you?” Spittle shone on his quivering lip.

She drank in his panic, her eyes wide.

“Someone who loves games, just like you.” She stepped closer.

“Stay back, stay back!” He threw his hands in front of his body, then tripped over the protruding vine in the grass and fell flat on his back.

Ksenia was upon him in an instant, kicking his hands out of the way and opening a seam from the soft paunch of his stomach all the way to his neck.

His shrill scream devolved into gurgling.

Layers of velvet and silk tore with a whisper as it gave way to organs as she opened him like a cadaver for dissecting.

Her breathing was meditative. Her heartbeat was an even, steady drum. Her mind was surgically sharp.

Afterward, she picked her way through the bloodied maze and back to the tree. She regretted arriving too late to help the servant man.