Z’s carriage took the main road that ran east to west until they hit a roadblock where the city guard were directing citizens away from what they called a “traffic jam,” but all Z had to do was ask, and their carriage was waved through. Maneuvering the carriage through swathes of onlookers, rearing horses, overturned carts, and scores of city guards clanging about wasn’t easy, and next thing Jac realized, Belle wasn’t in the carriage anymore.

“Shit.” Jac scrambled out of the carriage and dove into the Chaos after her friend, leaving Z shouting, “Ay! Wh—?!” behind her.

As she searched the crowd for the telltale blonde curls she knew so well, Jac undid the strap that held Puissance on her back. No longer worried about a low profile, there was no need to keep the exquisite weapon hidden, so she’d left the wrap at Z’s house. For now, Jac just held the head of the hammer down, to her side so as not to alarm those around her while still promising violence, should anyone fuck with her.

Jac realized quickly that trying to search for Belle was not the most efficient way to actually find Belle. All she needed to do was head toward the source of this mess and she’d find the little shit there. So Jac quickened her pace toward the shouting ahead, shouldering past horses and guards and drunken aristocrats who had given themselves over wholly to this Chaos and were quickly turning it into a riot. One person, who Jac could have sworn was Lord Edderly, one of the most stuck-up, vocal proponents of Order Jac had seen in Broken Earth’s inner circle, stood atop an enormous, lavish carriage, pulled up the hem of his tunic to reveal his total nudity underneath, jiggled around so his dick and balls swung about, and sang at the top of his lungs some song that was either in a language Jac didn’t know, or was just so slurred as to be incomprehensible.

Jac frowned thoughtfully and forged ahead—only to be pulled up short by a series of quick noises. A whistle of something flying through the air, a sudden cease of the slurred singing, a wet squelching, and a loud thunk.

Jac paused. Then turned to look back toward Lord Edderly.

He now lay flat on the carriage’s roof, his tunic still up around his ribs, and what looked to be a long, absolutely beautiful harpoon of some dark, polished metal nailing his head to the roof below him.

“Uh.”

Jac shirked all pretense, lifted her hammer, and no longer bothered to shove past the obstacles in her way, she just plowed straight through them. In no time, she reached the eye of the storm, a mass of city guards all peeking over overturned carriages and market stalls, their rifles trained on a single figure in the center of it all—both the guards and the man, certainly the Selachian from the looks of him, were shouting so loud at each other Jac couldn’t understand what they were saying.

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

But Jac didn’t give a fuck about that—she scanned the crowd, looking for that shock of blonde hair.

“—SCARED? YOU COWARDS AREN’T WORTH KILLING—!”

If Jac hadn't been looking for her, she might have missed when Belle slipped silently through the guards, into the line of fire.

“Mother damn y—!”

But she was cut off when a guard appeared in front of her—apparently her presence (or perhaps her hammer’s) was more noticeable than Belle’s. “Stay back, miss.”

Jac swatted the guard aside, only to be met with two more. “My friend is in there!” she snapped. “Get the fuck—!”

Suddenly, the shouting ceased, making all of them look around.

Ubika stood, covered in blood, wicked-looking blades jutting from his arms and spine, staring down at the blonde before him who was more than a head shorter with a blank, bemused look on his face, so different from the maniacal grin he’d worn before. His pointed teeth jutted from within his open mouth, his head cocked slightly to one side as he listened to the monstrous sounds coming from Belle’s mouth.

Jac had no idea what she was saying, but her tone was bright, engaged—on her toes, Belle circled Ubika, examining him or maybe his magic with glimmering eyes. The enormous muscles in his neck slid and stretched under his strange, gray skin as he turned his head to track her.

When Belle looked up at him, expectant, Jac was surprised to hear him reply in the language of monsters—then, of course, she remembered. Xatei, more commonly referred to by mainland Lushalens as Monster Island, where Ubika was from, was the last known community to speak Xo as its main language.

Jac took advantage of the guards’ momentary confusion to shove through them. While she was elbowing aside the last few guards, she saw Ubika smirk down at Belle like she was a toddler babbling nonsense at him. But, as Jac finally burst onto the scene, his head snapped around.

Black eyes locked with Jac’s—and lightning struck her. That maniacal grin was back on his face, and it was all Jac could do not to mirror it. Sparks burst all over her skin, set her heart pounding. Puissance hummed in her clenched hands, begging for violence.

“Now, there,” Ubika purred, flexing clawed, filthy fingers, “stands an opponent worth killing.”

Belle said something Jac couldn’t understand, and Ubika turned his head to answer her over his shoulder, his eyes never leaving Jac’s gaze. They had another few exchanges over his shoulder, before he finally spoke in the language of man.

“Fine,” he purred. “If she beats me, I’ll go wherever you want.”

Belle leaned to one side, sticking the opposite leg straight out to balance herself, to send Jac a quirked eyebrow around Ubika. That work for you?

In response, Jac finally released her own eager grin, spun Puissance in her hands, and said, “Let’s go, you overgrown pufferfish.”