Page 50 of Cursed Shadows 4

Beyond ‘hey!’, I didn’t have much of a plan.

My mind scrambles. It lurches from scheme to scheme but can never really land on anything longer than a racing heartbeat.

The dokkalf takes a step closer.

His boot flattens on the foliage in a way that mine never does. His bootstep crunches, it breaks twigs and nettles, disturbs crisp greenery—it annoys nature.

And here I am, judging him for such a small slight against nature, but ready to be captured, all because I didn’t have a plan.

The stands at Comlar must be snickering.

I can picture it now.

Father on the stands, a grim twist to his mouth, utter disappointment in the dull shake of his head; Pandora loosening a sigh and hiding her face in her palms, her thoughts racing around in circles with only one word:silly.

Silly little halfling.

Silly Nari.

She wouldn’t be wrong.

Then the thought strikes me—and I am both ashamed that I didn’t think of it sooner, but also ridiculous for presuming that this will work at all.

I plant my boots, firm.

My fingers spindle out a hilt from my holster—and the smile that the dokkalf gives me is nothing short of amused. Like I am little more than a child learning to play with wooden swords on the street.

Fucking patronising.

I’ll wipe that smile clean off his face.

I do.

I lift the dagger.

And I press the bite of the blade to my throat.

The dokkalf stills, instantly.

His eyes flash. Nostrils flare. Chest rises.

That arrogant smirk fades.

Looks like he wants nothing more than to snap my neck.

But he freezes.

I try not to show my relief, to let my shoulders slump or to heave the breath pinned to my chest.

I lift my chin a touch higher.

“Leave.” The command is as firm as my tone. “Leave him be—and me.”

His brow lowers. Furrowed eyebrows darkening mint-leaf eyes, his irises grooved with creases and shadows.

He considers me.

“You want to doubt me?” I arch a brow. “Question that I have it in me?”

---