Page 69 of Thorn Season
My blood spiked in warning, and I tried to pull free. “Get your hand off me.”
“You look highborn,” he slurred. “Got any gold?”
I shoved him off, but he moved to block my path.
I fumbled into my pocket, shook off the cloth, and drew out the eurium blade. “Stay back.”
The man laughed at my awkward hold on the knife. He swayed forward, and I loosed a tendril of my specter at the hanging baskets above. Their chains snapped; they crashed over him. He bellowed, and I ran.
The bricks of the alley walls sped past me, wind rushing to the back of my throat. I slowed when I knew he wasn’t following, my breaths thin and uneven.
Kneading the stitch in my side, I squinted around the unfamiliar alley; the stench of sweat and ale curled up my nostrils.
A hand fell on my shoulder and I spun, raising the knife high. A firm grip caught my wrist.
For the first time, I was glad to see Keil.
20
My breath shuddered out, my knife clattering to the cobblestones.
Keil released my wrist, smirking. “I suspected you weren’t fond of me, but I didn’t think you were serious about murder.”
“Were you following me?” I asked, heart still racing.
“Must we go through this every time?”
“How many more times do you plan on following me?”
Keil chuckled and stooped for the knife. But it was too coincidental. First, Carmen’s suite—and now the city? I’d assumed Carmen had hidden the Bolting Box after my break-in, but had Keil returned to steal it himself? Of course, he couldn’t have known the code for the combination lock. But he was the one who’dtoldme about that lock. He might’ve tricked me out of following this lead so he could find the compass first and take it to his empress.
Keil straightened, surveying the symbol on the knife handle with an interest that raised my hackles. Then he threw me an easy smile. “I haven’t seen eurium in a while.” He flipped the knife, offering me the handle. “Yours?”
I studied him with narrowed eyes.
If he’d trailed Carmen to Backplace, he must’ve similarly realized the Bolting Box was a dead end. But I had to remain one step aheadfrom here on out. If he believed I was also searching for the compass—which I now suspected he did—he would quicken his pace.
I snatched the knife without answering.
“You’d think a Hunter’s daughter would know how to wield a weapon.”
I paused. “Excuse me?”
“You’d do little damage with that grip.” Keil reached for me. “May I?”
I started to refuse, then remembered how I’d lost the knife during my attack. How the man’s fist had reared back, and I hadn’t known how to fend him off. Even tonight in the city, I’d felt unusually vulnerable, expecting the copycats to rush from the shadows.
Whether or not Keil was racing me for the compass, he now offered something I needed: the knowledge to defend myselfwithoutmy specter.
So I nodded.
Keil’s brows quirked in surprise before he took my knife-wielding hand. His skin was warm, the calluses on his palm scraping my knuckles.
“Everyone,” he said with an air of instruction, “no matter how physically strong, holds some kind of power. The power to run. To fight. To scream.”
My skin tingled at the new authority in his voice, low but firm.
“An attacker’s first job,” Keil continued, “is to identify where your main power lies... so they can take it away.” He drew my arm to its previous position; my cloak slipped off my shoulder, cool air kissing my skin. “Strike at me.”
