"Sword?"

Jacob held out his hand, his eyes still on the other man. Jacob taught me everything I knew about wielding a sword. Enough to make me decent, but nowhere near his level.

I handed it over without argument. I knew what my strong suits were and fighting an expert with a sword wasn't one of them.

The guy backed up as Jacob took my sword from me, rolling his shoulders as he stepped forward. He should have looked funny or at least a little odd wearing a hospital gown and carrying a sword, but there was nothing funny about him as he advanced on the guy, silent on his bare feet.

His sword was smaller, but he was taller and his reach was longer. Still, a shorter blade was a disadvantage, not that you could tell with the way Jacob went after the man.

The guy backed up immediately when the flurry of blows was unleashed on him. It was all he could do to block the jabs and slices, his face turning red and sweat sliding down his face as he worked hard simply to defend himself.

Jacob's face was calm and his body steady as he stepped forward with each blow, pushing the man farther into the corner.

Ashur circled around behind him, waiting.

You didn't have to be an expert to know how this was going to end.

Their blades locked. Jacob disarmed the guy, the man's sword clattering to the floor.

Ashur stepped right into the opening and picked the man up by the throat, slamming him down onto the floor. "Oops," he said mildly as the man struggled. "Did that hurt?"

I walked over, stopping beside Ashur. Jacob moved to the man's other side, my sword still in his hand as he watched dispassionately. He hadn't even broken a sweat.

Not to self—don't get into an actual sword fight with Jacob.

I looked down at the guy. He was at our mercy now.

"Why are you after me?" I asked. "Why all this planning, all this manpower just to get to me?"

The man just glared up at me, his face turning red from the grip Ashur had on his throat.

"Ashur?" I murmured, touching his shoulder. "I think he needs a little air to respond," I said mildly.

He relaxed his grip a little and the man wheezed in a breath.

"Fuck you!" he spit out.

That was helpful.

I stepped forward as Ashur squeezed down again. There was one spot on a man's body he would likely protect at any cost. I placed my heel lightly on the man's crotch.

And pressed down.

Just a little.

I saw both Ashur and Jacob wince in sympathy. It was a universal response.

"Who sent you?" I asked, nodding at Ashur to let up.

The man gasped in a breath.

"You bitch! You're all idiots," he snarled. "If the King—" he snapped his mouth shut.

"The King?" I repeated.

I met Ashur's narrowed eyes. There was only one king I knew of, King Emberich, the phoenix monarch.

My newfound father.

Only genetically, though, thank god.

"I'm not going back there a failure," the man growled and clenched his jaw.

What was he doing? He'd bitten down on something. Just as I realized that, he started convulsing in Ashur's grip.

"Shit!" Ashur growled, trying to pry open the man's jaw.

But his eyes had already glazed over, his body going still.

"It's too late. Poison," Jacob muttered, staring down at the man—body now—with clinical eyes. "Flicken. I've only seen this particular type used when the boss is really bad news. There's no antidote." He looked up at me, his look piercing. "Question is—what the hell does the Phoenix King want with you, Mia?"

"It has something to do with that job I took," I murmured, keeping it vague. "The one that took me out of the city dome."

I thought about just telling him everything—about what I was, about my heritage. There were enough pieces that he might have an inkling of at least part of the picture already, considering how smart he was. But it wasn't just me I needed to worry about now. Exposing myself to Jacob was one thing.

But letting out the truth would also expose Omari.

Jacob's jaw tightened at the vague non-answer, but he didn't press. I knew it was going to come back to bite me later, but I'd take the reprieve for now. My attention returned to the man lying on the floor, the man who'd taken his own life rather than face his leader with the news of failure.

Jacob was right about one thing.

Emberich was bad news.