Rolin’s smile widened, delighted, certain of exactly how this would go. He stepped back, unhurried, folding himself safely behind the wall of his own men before giving the nod.
"Take him."
His men surged forward as one.
Rivelius braced, reaching for the sword one of his own guards had drawn and shoved toward him—
Reyna moved.
Not fast. Past fast; a blur that the eye simply failed to track, there and then somewhere else entirely, steel already singing free of its sheath before anyone had finished registering she’d moved at all. One of Rolin’s men dropped, sword still half-raised, throat opened before he understood the fight had started. A second followed a half-breath later, Reyna already three men deeper into the formation, cutting through Rolin’s guard the way a scythe cuts through wheat that hasn’t yet realized it’s been harvested.
Ashen hit the nearest hound mid-leap, jaws closing around its throat before it ever landed, the fight over before it had properly begun. The lizard-mounts took the second beast between them efficiently, done in seconds.
Rolin’s remaining men — what few were left standing — froze.
Reyna’s blade was already at Rolin’s throat.
Rivelius hadn’t seen her move. Not the first strike, not the second, not any of the five men now dead on the cobblestones between one breath and the next: two seconds, perhaps less, and Reyna already stood with her blade pressed to Rolin’s throat as though she’d simply always been standing there.
He didn’t let any of it show.
"Drop your weapons," he said, into the ringing silence that followed. "Or I let her finish."
Nobody moved. Then, one by one, swords hit the cobblestones.
Rolin, blade pressed to his own pulse, managed something that was almost still a smile. "You wouldn’t dare. Do you have any idea what happens to a man who lays hands on the Warden of a sovereign county?"
Rivelius didn’t answer. He simply turned, and handed Cordelia off to the nearest guard, gentle despite everything, and turned to walk back toward Rolin.
Her hand caught his before he could fully pull away.
He stopped, and looked down at her.
There was something in her eyes he hadn’t seen before. Not once. Not from anyone in either world, across every kingdom he’d conquered and every year of his life before this one.
Fear, plainly, openly, without any of her usual composure standing guard over it. He understood that immediately, with a clarity that startled him more than the fear itself did.
She was afraid for him.
He held her gaze a moment longer, then gave her a small nod, and gently drew his hand free of hers.
He crossed the distance himself now, unhurried, and took the sword still held out for him.
Rolin’s composure held, defiant even with steel at his throat. "You’re not going to kill me," he said. "I’m the Warden of this county. My death brings the entire province down on whoever’s responsible."
Rivelius met his eyes and said nothing.
Leaving this man alive and free would cause problems, he thought. Real ones. A humiliated lord with resources, standing, and every reason to retaliate the moment they were out of sight.
He looked down at the sword in his hand, then back at Rolin’s unbroken, defiant face.
Fwip.
For a moment, Rolin didn’t move at all. He simply stared down at the ground, at the small, pale, unmistakable shape of his own ear lying on the cobblestones beside his boot.
Then the pain caught up.
The scream that followed tore through the street. Both hands flew to the side of his head as he collapsed to his knees, blood already soaking through his fingers.
The street went dead silent. Reyna’s eyes flicked to Rivelius, startled, just for a moment. Cordelia’s breath caught audibly.
Rolin’s men lurched forward, hands scrabbling for the swords still lying discarded on the stones, and stopped just as fast, meeting the leveled blades of Rivelius’s own guards, none of whom had lowered their guard for a second.
Rivelius looked down at Rolin, kneeling, sobbing, utterly undone, with no expression on his face at all.
Then he looked up at Reyna. "Bind him."
Reyna gave a short nod to one of the guards, who peeled off to a nearby stall, returning moments later with rope in hand. He and another guard set about binding Rolin, still doubled over, still bleeding, still gasping through the pain.
"You—" Rolin managed, teeth gritted. "You’ll regret—"
"Do you still dare speak?"
Rolin went silent.
The street had gone unnaturally still around them. Merchants stood frozen behind their stalls, onlookers watched from the edges of the road, and Rolin’s remaining guards kept their distance, none willing to make the first move.
Rivelius looked at none of them. He looked back at Cordelia instead, who was still held safely by the guard. She was still watching him, though the composure from before had finally slipped. Her eyes were wide, startled, fixed on him with genuine shock at what she’d just watched him do.
He turned to his guards. "We’re leaving." A beat. "Take his carriage," Rivelius said. "Two of you inside with him. One driving."
Guards moved fast, hauling Rolin — still bound, still bleeding, the rope already darkening at his shoulder — into his own carriage. Two climbed in after him, swords drawn and ready should he try anything foolish. A third took the driver’s seat.
The rest of the convoy fell into formation around both carriages, Reyna back atop Ashen, the lizard-mounts flanking, guards mounting up in the wake of everything that had just happened.
Rivelius turned, unhurried, and addressed the street itself rather than the carriage; his voice carrying easily to the handful of Rolin’s men still standing among the dead.
"One more thing." Flat, unbothered. "If I see a single one of you following us, or so much as suspect we’re being tracked... I’ll kill him myself."
He gave Reyna a single nod.
"Move out," she called.
The street remained frozen behind them as they went — merchants, onlookers, the surviving handful of Rolin’s men left standing amid the bodies of the rest — all of them watching in silence as the convoy rolled out of the county town, carrying with it the man who, until a few minutes ago, had ruled every inch of it.