"I don't think so, no." Evie had been fortunate not to have to deal with violence at the level of murder, but hardcore fighting? She didn't enjoy it, but she could scrap as well as wield a sword. The gold-painted studs on her fingerless leather gloves weren't just a decoration.

She glanced from side to side as they moved closer to the open space. A few of the people ringing the area were shifting posture. They pushed off of the crumbling walls and stood on the balls of their feet, arms loose. There wasn't a way to avoid fighting, and the consequences that would come of it. Even if she bolted, Evie knew her chances of finding safety alone were slim. These men knew the area better than she or Guts, and could funnel them into an alley or cut them off. If this were the Isle, she'd run, lead them on a chase, and into Mal's territory, where the rest of her friends could help her.

Here? Her pace slowed just a little, and with a glance at her companion, she turned her most stunning dark smile toward the people nearest them. She let her hips sway just a bit, keeping a hand planted firmly on one hip. "You all do realize we're here to help you, right?" she asked, sweetness and poison in her voice.

One of the landen men scowled and started forward.