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The blades fell to the ground as Paskia put her hands on her knees, her whole body shaking, her lungs taking in gulps of air. She felt drained, but never had she felt so alive.
The fight—she had been in a fight!—was a blur. She knew she had struck others. It was likely that some of the shapes nearby were those whose lives she had ended.
she had been in a fight!She had no choice. Once she had struck that big man, the others had attacked, and they had one aim. They wanted her dead. What else could she do, but defend herself? What else could she do but strike out with her own blades.
No, not hers. They belonged to that guard, back in the room with the flame. The guard Rodin had killed.
No, not hers.So it made sense for Paskia to have them. A dead body had no use for weapon
