ELIA
The rage in his eyes was terrifying, but if she was going to die tonight, it wasn't going to be with blood on her hands.
So, with trembling knees, she stared him down, gulping when his eyes flashed and for a moment she thought she was staring into the eyes of a lion.
Unable to hold the penetrating gaze, she looked at the fur-woman, crumpled at her feet. Elia knew she'd be sore the next day, that fall had been awkward and the ground was hard. But she'd felt her elbow come down as she reached out to catch herself. She'd taken the women in the temple. It was an accident, but it felled her like a tree.
"Kill. Her," the King snarled, the last word guttering in his throat like the big cat he reminded her of.
Elia looked down at the woman again. There was no doubt she deserved to die. Elia had just watched her kill several other women.
She could feel the eyes of the watchers on the back of her neck. But she took another step away from the woman and shook her head. "I'm not going to kill her."
The crowd gasped, but no one said a word, and Elia felt their attention shift to their leader.
As did he.
He seemed to swell under the scrutiny, he pulled his shoulders and head back, though his chin stayed low. "You would exchange your life for the life of a proud woman who would have torn out your throat without a second thought? You do not know what you do," he barked through his teeth.
Elia shivered but forced herself to hold his gaze. "I don't even know where I am! But I know life and I know murder." She pointed at the fur-painted woman. "If I have to die tonight, I'll do it with a clear conscience—unlike her."
The words were barely out of her mouth when the gathered people poured out their disgust in an overwhelming roar made up of shrieks, howls, bleats, and hisses. If the man in front of her were any less compelling—or less obviously in charge—Elia would have whirled to make sure they didn't come at her back. But the man didn't even look at them, though his massive shoulders heaved with his breath and his hands clenched to fists at his side.
He lifted one hand, bare inches, and the noise stopped, though Elia could hear the people moving now, hissing their dissatisfaction to each other now that he'd commanded them to stop yelling at her.
She swallowed hard, and the King's eyes narrowed. She would have sworn that look of recognition passed behind his eyes again, but his expression didn't change. He huffed a breath and she thought he would speak, but suddenly there was noise to her left and she turned to find a man running hunched over, teeth bared, snarling, "You will not shame my sister!"
Still twenty feet from her, the man leaped and, in the dark, he looked for a moment as if his limbs had become legs, his hands were paws, and his open mouth grew fangs that flashed in the moonlight as they came for her throat.