Seraphine's POV
In the afternoon, the gossip had cleared enough for us to walk through the inner town. We were on the market square—the air smelled of bread and life. Cassian and two guards followed, discreetly.
Then the air turned bitter. A cold shiver crossed the square, carrying the scent of resin. “s**t,” the wolf in me rumbled. “Right-hand alley.”
“Darius,” I called, already turning.
A canvas sack popped at the well's edge, spewing grayish smoke. Immediately, bolas—short ropes tipped with lead balls—shot toward us. The first took down a guard. The second came for me.
I didn’t think. I stepped left, struck upward, and snapped the rope. In the next instant, chaos erupted: three figures with facecloths emerged with short spears. The children at the well screamed. A whistle blew from
