Senya's voice was as cold as her eyes. She extended her hand, palm upwards. "Hello, Jorick. I'll take that."
Katelina stifled a cry and drew back against the building. Jorick only stared dispassionately at the newcomer. "I don't think so."
Verchiel snapped his coat open and closed and suddenly had a short, straight bladed sword in one hand and a hard, lacquered scabbard in the other. His eyes were on the trees as he stepped forward. "She has friends."
"I'm sure she does," Jorick replied. "But they are of no consequence."
Senya snarled and whipped the knives from the holsters at her hips. They flashed as she swiped at Jorick. He easily dodged her attack, the box clutched under his arm. As if that was a sign, seven dark figures rushed from the trees towards the shrine. Katelina recognize
