Crimson Wind by Diana Pharaoh Francis Page B

alive, then you’d better be sure you don’t, either. And just so you don’t get any bright ideas, we want your promise on that. Understand?”
    Alexander did. It was an oath he could give easily, but he was in no mood to indulge these two. It was time to take them to school. He gave a minuscule nod.
    “Good,” Niko said, and released his grip a fraction, enough to let Alexander speak freely. “Get to it.”
    Their first mistake was thinking that they could force him. Their second was forgetting that he was telekinetic.
    With a thought, he twisted the knife out of Tyler’s grasp, sliding it back to slice the tendons of the other man’s hand. In the same moment, he kicked Niko’s left knee, shattering it with a wet, crunching sound. He grasped the hand clutching his throat and twisted, snapping Niko’s wrist.
    Tyler lunged, coming in low. Alexander whirled as he struck, gripping his elbow and flipping him over his hip and slamming him to the floor. Tyler rolled smoothly to his feet, and now Alexander was between his two attackers. Clever. Both darted in. Niko’s injured leg dragged, but it hardly slowed him. Such were the Blades that Max trained.
    Alexander whipped a roundhouse at Niko, kicking him in the jaw before the other man realized he had moved. He clobbered Tyler in the head with a downward jab. Then he was dodging and weaving as the two kept coming. He was never where they expected. More than once, he lured them into punching the stone wall. Bones crunched and blood spattered.
    It was a beautiful, violent dance, and Alexander found himself smiling fiercely as he twisted and lunged with velvet fluidity. This was what he was made for.
    Niko and Tyler were worthy adversaries, and soon he saw that they were smiling, too. They attacked again and again. Although Alexander took some punches and kicks, he gave better than he got. At last, both of his opponents were lying on the ground. Tyler’s eyes were black and nearly swollen shut. His nose was broken, and his mouth was pulpy. He was panting. Niko did not look much better. He sat up slowly and eyed Alexander with careful respect.
    “Nice moves.” His voice was slurred. He rubbed the side of his jaw. There was an imprint of Alexander’s boot rising on his skin and another around his neck from a Brabo choke. “Wouldn’t mind learning a few of those.”
    Tyler rolled onto his side with a groan. “When did you get so damned fast?”
    “I always have been.”
    “You’ve been holding out,” Niko said.
    Alexander could hear the suspicion in his voice. He sighed. “You saw me with Tutresiel this morning. I held nothing back with him. Before that, I wished to be welcomed here, and you already distrusted me. It seemed smarter not to add more fuel to your fire. But you know that I was Shadowblade Prime. It should come as no surprise that I have skills.”
    “We saw you with Tutresiel, sure, but you see things better when you’re the one getting hit. You’re faster than Max,” Tyler said as he clambered to his feet. He staggered to the wall and leaned against it.
    “I might be.” Alexander watched them carefully in case they decided to renew the fight. “Is that a problem?”
    “Depends,” Niko said as he stood.
    “On whether you think I am loyal to Horngate?”
    “On whether you are. And whether you plan to challenge for Prime.”
    “Max would say that whoever was strongest should take it.”
    “Maybe, but strength—and speed—aren’t everything. Brains, instinct, heart, loyalty—they matter, too. And Max is neither weak nor slow,” Tyler said.
    “Then she will win. So there should be no problem, should there?”
    Neither man said anything. There were no guarantees, and Alexander was a threat. That was why they had come after him in the first place, and their fight had only demonstrated how much of a threat he was.
    The corner of Alexander’s mouth twitched upward. Max, as much as Giselle, was the heart of Horngate. If Alexander took