Free Daughter of Dusk by Livia Blackburne

in response. She nudged a beggar woman next to her. “What happened?” she whispered.
    “Some kind of row between fatpurses and a gutter rat. Gutter rat’s getting the worst of it now.”
    Kyra redoubled her efforts to break through the crowd, her thoughts immediately going to Ollie. Had a nobleman taken exception to his hat? A few people protested when she pushed past them, but
most were too distracted by the spectacle in the square.
    There was a sickening thud and a low moan as Kyra pushed in front of the people blocking her view. Now that she was through, she saw that the crowd pressed against the outer perimeter of the
courtyard, leaving the middle empty. Folk were afraid to get too close to the scene in the center, and Kyra couldn’t blame them.
    Three young noblemen, peacocks in their colorful silk tunics, stood over a muddied body in the courtyard. The victim wore a dress—it wasn’t Ollie, then, though the girl looked to be
in bad shape. Then the victim rolled over, and Kyra’s heart stopped beating.
    It wasn’t Ollie. It was Idalee.
    The girl was hunched over in the mud, her face twisted in pain as a nobleman waved a dagger in front of her eyes. Even as Kyra watched, the wallhugger, a skinny young man in a purple tunic,
grabbed Idalee’s hair and pushed her face into the mud. His friend pulled his leg back for another kick. Kyra drew her dagger and made a mad rush into the circle. “Stop!”
    Her momentum was enough that the noblemen jumped back, and Kyra threw herself in front of Idalee. The wallhuggers stared. If a squirrel had jumped off a roof and started talking to them, they
couldn’t have been more surprised.
    “Kyra?” Idalee seemed to have trouble focusing her eyes on her.
    Kyra crouched and placed her hand on Idalee’s shoulder. The girl’s nose was bleeding, and her lip was torn. “I don’t know what imaginary offense this girl
committed,” said Kyra. “But this is far beyond anything she could possibly deserve. Leave her be.”
    The one in the purple tunic looked her over, still more confused than angry. “Who
are
you?”
    He took a step toward her. Kyra raised her dagger.
    “You’ll answer to the magistrate,” said Kyra. “There’s a courtyard full of witnesses.”
    That was apparently the wrong thing to say. Purple Tunic’s expression changed from confusion to annoyance, and he advanced on her.
    “The lesson we were teaching the girl could just as easily be extended to you,” the nobleman said, drawing his sword. All three of the wallhuggers had swords, she saw now. They were
probably good with them too, and there was no way she could fight them all with a dagger. Kyra scanned the crowd, looking for anyone who might help her. Faces stared back at her, but no one stepped
forward. There were even two Red Shields in the crowd, simply watching. Lettie was nowhere in sight, though Kyra supposed that was a good thing at the moment.
    Well, there was one way she could defeat three swordsmen. Kyra felt inward for the sense of her fur. But she was surrounded by people. What would she do to them if she changed? She snuck another
glance at Idalee behind her. The girl lay with her temple against the ground, too tired even to lift her head.
    There was a flash of motion in her periphery as Purple Tunic chose that moment to attack. Kyra jumped to the side to dodge his blade, remembering at the last moment not to impale herself on her
dagger. The slick mud cushioned her fall, but it was also ice-cold and sucked at her clothes when she tried to stand. The nobleman advanced on her. As Kyra regained her feet, he stopped and stared
at her neck. Kyra looked down to see that Malikel’s medallion had come out of her tunic.
    “Where did you get that? Did you steal it?”
    Kyra gripped the medallion in her hand. “My name is Kyra of Forge. I’m under the Defense Minister’s direct command.”
    “Liar.”
    But then one of Purple Tunic’s companions stepped forward. “Santon, Malikel