Keeper's Justice
Copyright© 2025 by Charly Young
Chapter 8
D’eidra
D’eidra’s first instinct was to run, but her mother’s iron grip on her arm held her fast. She had grown up in a warrior culture, trained since childhood in the art of combat, thus no stranger to violence. But now she stared at the bloody remains of the guards in disbelief. All that was left of the best of the best was the copper smell of blood and waste.
The human had moved—then it was over. In less than the space between one heartbeat and the next, six fully blooded Sidhe warriors lay dead on the floor.
Her mind flicked back to the lessons of one of her tutors, a scarred, crippled Dökkálfar warrior. He had spoken of the shattering effect of what he called the “sudden quick of violence.” She thought she had understood, but what she had just witnessed showed her how shallow her understanding had been. A glance at her mother and she could tell by the ticking of the pulse in her neck that she too was affected as well. The only being who appeared unaffected was the Queen. She sat sipping her tea, composed and calm.
Suddenly, D’eidra’s stomach rolled. She gagged, desperately trying not to vomit. Her mother leaned over to her and touched her neck. The nausea subsided. Her mother whispered, “Daughter, get a grip on yourself.” D’eidra realized with embarrassment she’d been moaning. She straightened up and, once again, was the perfect daughter. Her mother nodded with satisfaction.
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