Arvad didn’t swing a killing blow. Instead, he stood by as a woman came from behind. My eyes widened. Light hair, stained in dark blood; she was no Ettan. Small in stature, hardly an obvious threat on the battlefield. But the way she clambered up Calder’s broad back, arm curled around his neck from behind, knife at his throat, she became the most fearsome warrior on the field. “Tell Eli we won,” she snarled into his ear before she dragged her knife across Calder’s throat.
