Sovereign Read Free Page A

chest.
    Jonathan had fallen to a similar blow.
    The Dark Blood wrenched his blade free, and Triphon collapsed on the concrete street. Dead.
    Time refused to return. Triphon dead. At the hand of one she’d failed to kill.
    Jordin didn’t know why she ran for him, losing the final advantage she had in breaking past the line of Bloods. Perhaps she could only see Jonathan there on the ground, dead because she had failed him as well. Perhaps in the deepest part of her soul she wanted to join Triphon in a pool of her own blood.
    The Dark Blood standing over Triphon with bloody sword grinned wickedly.
    Rage pushed reason from her mind. With a raw scream, she snatched her final arrow from her quiver, crammed it against the string with trembling fingers, pulled up five paces short, and fired at the Blood’s head.
    The arrow took the warrior in his mouth, knocking out his teeth and cutting clean through his spinal column. He dropped dead in Triphon’s blood, eyes still wide in shock.
    In Jordin’s mind this was Saric. Saric, whom she despised more than Roland, whom she hated more than death itself for killing the man she loved.
    Sounds of pursuit from behind had slowed. They were close. Too close. There would be no chance of escape. Even with a bow and a dozen knives, her favored weapon, she could not fend off ten Dark Bloods alone. Nor could she outrun them.
    She could only honor Triphon by taking his sword and killing as many as would join them in death.
    Tonight she would be rejoined with Jonathan. Finally.
    She heard the scuff of boots behind her. To her right. Her left. They were in no hurry.
    She walked up to Triphon’s body, took a knee, and kissed his bloody lips. “I will see you soon, my friend.”
    She eased Triphon’s sword from his fingers and stood. To the Bloods she would only be one more victim among so many for their taking. They couldn’t know that they now had one of the twoSovereign commanders in their grasp. All that mattered was that they had been created to vanquish the blood that flowed in her veins.
    Jonathan’s blood.
    She turned. They had positioned themselves in a wide arc around her.
Calm now.
They were here to kill her, and that surety was as thick as the air they all breathed.
    “You fought well,” one of them said, stepping forward.
    “I’m not done,” she heard herself say.
    “No, I expect not. It’s honorable to die with a sword in hand. But in the end death is still death.” A shallow smile toyed with his lips. “What say we make sport of it?”
    “I’m not here for sport.”
    “It would be a shame to die without offering us some pleasure.”
    “The only pleasure I’m interested in comes at the end of this sword.”
    Several of them chuckled. Revulsion swept through her gut.
    “Not all swords bring death,” the commander said. “Can a small thing like you wield a sword as well as you fling arrows? Your weight behind it would be hard pressed to knock a dog down.”
    “And I see ten before me.”
    His grin broadened. “Well spoken. If you weren’t the enemy of my Maker I might make some dogs with you.”
    His smile vanished, and he stepped forward. The men to Jordin’s far left closed in. As did two more on her right. They had no intention of killing her outright. This was it, then.
    Jordin took a step back, thinking that she might be better off making a run for it. She cast a quick look behind her. Two more Dark Bloods stood on the end of the street, eyeing her lazily. There would be no running.
    Too many closing in. If she couldn’t run, would she be better off cutting her own throat before they could overpower her? The thought seized her, profane and inviting at once.
    She backed up another step and pivoted to face the commander. The glint in his eyes was unmistakable. Her earlier notion of takingas many with her as possible would only lead to more suffering. They would not let her die quickly.
    “Drop the sword and we’ll be gentle,” the Dark Blood said. “By my