“Okay, but—” Jazz cut herself off and frowned at the scene taking place only a hundred feet down the road from where they stood.
A man was shouting at a child Jazz assumed was his daughter. She was a dirty little urchin no more than eleven or twelve years old. Jazz felt a moment’s irritation with the man, until she saw his hand rise and the child cringe.
Irritation turned to fury when the man smacked the child across her face and sent her flying backwards to land hard on the ground.
The beast of a man took hard, long steps to stand over her. He bent and grabbed the collar of her worn sack of a dress, but Jazz, using her hyper-speed, arrived in time to catch his attention by slamming her boot down on his foot.
He yelped and hopped on one foot, stood, and turned to her, a fist in the air as he bellowed, “I’ll kill ye, ye little tart!”
Karate was a human skill, one that her father had made certain she acquire and perfect. She used it now and with great pleasure. Her leg came up and into position, landing him a round kick that sent him flying. He tripped over himself and went down, hard. Winded, he lay there while Jazz put the child behind her.
Visible now, as she was out of the prince’s circle of Féth Fiada, she stood in position, ready to dole out more.
The brute lifted his head and stared at her as he made his first attempt to get up, saying, “Eh … whot the hell?” He got to his knees and then rose from there. “Where did ye learn to hit like that? And whot be ye wearing there, she-devil?” His voice was hushed, and caution laced his movements now.
All at once, apparently thinking Jazz had just landed him a lucky blow, he released a low and ferocious sound and charged, bent like a bull.
“Ah, foolish beast …” Jazz sneered, and he paused. She waved him to bring it. “Come on and get some more.” She wanted to taunt him; he needed hurting, and she wanted to be the one to dish it out.
He completed the charge at her, all brawn and fury, and got his head kicked in for his effort. He lay there on his back again, but this time he was unconscious.
Jazz turned to the child. “Are you okay?”
“What is ‘okay’?” The girl’s Irish lilt was lovely, but her hazel eyes were bright with worry.
“It means are you all right?”
She nodded. “Aye, that I am, but when he wakes up, he will kill me for this … och, but he will.”
“No, he won’t. Is he your father?”
“No, I be an orphan, and he bought me from the orphan home … to help on his farm, last month.” She said this in a resigned tone, sounding so much older than she looked.
“Did he?” Jazz said in some disgust. “Well, you don’t belong to him anymore.”
“But I have nowhere to go,” the child said pragmatically.
“Yes, you do. You will come with me, and we will see about finding you a better home. How is that?”
“What are you doing?” Trevor demanded as he stepped forward and leaned into her.
“What do you think I am doing?” Jazz answered, thinking, Oh no, the child will think she’s going crazy. One minute I’m here, the next I’m invisible.
“I can’t have a child in tow,” he answered. “And besides, we are not supposed to interfere in human matters and events.”
“Well, I am not bound by your rules,” Jazz said.
“A Royal,” the child whispered and reached for Jazz’s hand.
Both Trevor and Jazz turned to the child in shock, and Trevor asked, “You can see me, lass?”
She lowered her gaze and did not respond. Jazz bent to her and said, “It’s safe. You don’t have to worry. Are you a seer?”
When the girl looked away and would not answer, Jazz realized she must have been taught never to reveal what she was.
She said softly as she took the girl’s chin and looked into her hazel eyes, “You don’t have to be afraid. This Royal will not hurt you. I know because I had to reveal to him that I am also a Fios.”
The girl’s eyes opened wide, though she still did not speak. Jazz continued, “That’s right. I can see Fae.” She waved towards the prince. “This Royal will not carry you off or harm you. Instead, he will keep you safe, won’t you, Trevor?” Jazz straightened as she turned to him with an arched look.