Page 36 of Bride of Mist
She silently slipped the dagger from its sheath.
Then he stopped.
She held her breath. Had he heard her? Had he somehow sensed she was near?
He brushed off a mossy fallen log beside the path and took a seat. Then he dug in his pack, drew out a parcel, unwrapped it, and took a bite.
She frowned in disbelief. Was he actually stopping to eat? Right there? Not twenty yards from where she waited, ready to slay him?
She’d been so ready to act. Mentally prepared to finish him off in a swift, efficient manner. Without a second glance. Without hesitation.
Now she’d have to wait until he was finished eating.
Not only did it seem like a waste of perfectly good food—food that would do him no good where he was going—but it gave her time to reconsider what she was going to do.
Time to remember details about him. His char-black locks. His swarthy jaw. His soulful blue eyes.
Time to reflect on what it would be like to slay a defenseless man.
She tried to cast her gaze elsewhere. To ignore him. After all, she knew where he was going. She didn’t need to keep an eye on him. When he was done, he’d pick up where he’d left off and continue along the path. When he was close enough, she would spring into action.
But even after he dusted the crumbs from his hands, instead of continuing down the path, he lingered where he was.
She clenched her teeth. What was he doing? Why was he stalling?
At last, he rose from the log, and she tightened her grip on theduandao. But when he hunkered down to scrape leaves together into a makeshift bed, she wanted to scream in frustration.
Was he actually going to take a nap? Now? While she was in striking distance, poised to kill him?
The man clearly had no instinct for survival.
Meanwhile, he was making things difficult for her. Unless she wanted to wait for him to snooze off his full belly, waken, and proceed down the path, she would have to come to him. And then, though it grated against her sense of honor and decency, she would indeed have to slay him in his sleep.
Perhaps it was best this way, after all. It would be much easier to slit his throat while he lay sleeping. He would die peacefully, not knowing who had ended his life. And she wouldn’t have to stare into his riveting blue eyes to do it.
She didn’t have to wait long. Soon his chest was rising and falling with the sawing sounds of slumber.
After several moments, when she was sure he was fast asleep, she sheathed herduandaoand began making her way toward him. The dense trees formed a network of intersecting branches, so it was simple enough to climb from ash to elm to oak without ever touching the ground.
A thick sycamore limb crossed the path just beyond where he slept. From there she could drop down, as silent as a wildcat, steal up behind him, and slash his throat.
Crouching on the adjacent oak branch, she leaned out to make a leap for the sycamore. But at the last instant, something shifted, and she heard a crack.
The limb split under her feet, and she dropped to the forest floor, landing with a thud that jarred her bones.
Dislodged her mask.
Shook her nerves.
And roused her quarry.
Chapter 10
Well-trained for warfare, Dougal’s body reacted to the crash before he knew what was happening. He was on his feet, sword in hand, before he could understand why what looked like a broken limb and a pile of clothing were plopped in the middle of the trail.
But he quickly recognized the fair face that peered up at him in pale shock.
“What the devil?” He lowered the sword. “How didyeget here?”
