Knight by Karen Lynch

Author:Karen Lynch
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: urban fantasy, coming of age, fantasy, magic, young adult, teen, prince, faeries, hunters, ya romance
Publisher: Karen Lynch

Chapter 13

THE OGRES TOOK a step toward me, and I tensed as I studied them for weaknesses. If they came at me one at a time, I might be able to fend them off, but I didn’t have a chance against the four of them at once.

The barest creak of a floor board warned that someone had snuck up behind me, even before the ogres shifted their gazes to something over my shoulder. A haze of pure adrenaline settled over me as I crouched and swung low to avoid the club that was likely aimed at my head. The metal rod slammed into a leg, and my assailant let out a grunt of pain.

I rose, swinging again, but he grabbed my weapon to block the strike. I released the rod and put all my strength into the blind punch I threw at him. My fist connected with his face with so much force that the shock traveled up my arm to my shoulder.

The metal rod clattered against the floor. I thought for a second about picking it up, then changed my mind and sprinted the six feet to the stage. Grabbing the edge of the stage, I pulled myself up with ease – and found my escape blocked by a pair of jean-clad legs.

Jeans? Ogres didn’t wear jeans.

A male hand appeared in front of my face, one that definitely didn’t belong to an ogre. I took it without thinking, and he pulled me to my feet. Pushing my hair out of my face, I looked up into Iian’s eyes, which stared at me in amused wonder.

“What…are you doing here?” I uttered between gasps of air.

Someone clapped in the auditorium. I spun to see Kerr applauding as he and Faolin herded a group of ogres down the stairs. My gaze fell to the ogres I’d fought, and I found them kneeling and pleading with none other than the crown prince of Unseelie.

“I should have brought my phone,” Kerr called. “No one will ever believe me.”

“What…?” The question died on my tongue when Lukas turned to look at me. His nose and the front of his shirt were bloody, and his eyes were as hard as flint.

I gulped and backed up a step, only to come up against Iian, who prodded me to the edge of the stage. When I refused to jump down, he said, “He’s not angry at you.”

“His expression would suggest otherwise,” I mumbled, not moving.

Iian chuckled and leaned in to whisper, “You punched the Unseelie prince in the face and almost put him on his ass. Tell me that doesn’t feel good.”

I lifted my chin because he was right. For weeks, I’d been taking out my pent-up emotions on the punching bags at the gym, and not one of those sessions had given me the satisfaction I felt now.

I jumped to the floor below and walked over to stand a few feet from Lukas. Up close, there seemed to be a lot more blood, and I tried not to wince at the sight of it.

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