I look.
This is a trial.
"I'll check back later. Probably good news," I reply, at a loss as to what the meaning is.
He appears hopeful.
"Witch!" the bellow comes from the madly fighting Shadow Knight. "Come!"
He's fighting three men, both arms swinging. The chances of me being sliced up are much clearer than my fortune. "Um, no thanks. We're good here."
He mutters something I can't quite make out, his agility astonishing me. His deadly dance grows fast and near. Before I can object, he's swept me up in one arm the way he did before. I don't resist this time; this horrible, delicate, lethal dance is something I'm not about to get in the way of. Swords flash within millimeters of my face and head, and I squeeze my eyes closed, gripping the only thing I really can - the strap holding the sword sheath to his back. His arm around my midsection is tight enough that my feet don't touch the ground. His body shields mine.
The sounds of metal colliding inches from me is terrifying, the sensation of motion exhilarating yet nowhere near what I'd call a good time. The man's body is beyond incredible, the bunching and releasing of his muscles effortless. I press my cheek to his warm chest and pray that I somehow end up back on the couch at home. If nothing else, I get a good whiff of brownies and man, a combination that heightens my senses and makes me too aware of him - and our precarious situation.
Abruptly, he stops the battle dance. For a moment, I'm stricken by the idea he's been stabbed. My eyes fly open and I wait for the finishing blow to find me.
"Let the troll take him," the Desert Knight says with some satisfaction.
Troll? They have imaginary creatures in this book? I twist to see what the hell is headed for us and gasp.
The troll is as huge and ugly as I imagined, standing about nine feet tall and built like a tree.
An angry tree, if his glowing orange eyes are any indication.
"Can you take out a troll?" I ask the Shadow Knight, looking up at him.
"Never tried."
"But you can, right?"
"Quiet, witch."
I unclench one hand to see if there's any other message.
This is a trial.
Nope. Just the weird one.
"If you ever decided to use your magic, now is a good time." The Shadow Knight's words send a streak of cold fear through me. He's too stubborn to know fear, but he's unsettled.
"Let's just run," I reply.
"Run?" he echoes. The boar's eyes meet mine. They're light enough gray that they're almost white. "Leave my family's honor, an era of struggle and darkness and fog here at the feet of my enemies, condemn the realm to death, and run?"