Page 109 of Thief of Souls
The one I never knew about until it was too late.
I freeze in my tracks.
Of course. No wonder there were no healers. Only this faithful dog, waiting at his master’s heels to see how the game would play out.
I’ve never quite understood the bond between them.
“What I would do?” I lick away the blood. “Have you been watching me again?” I force a laugh. “The same way you watched me then? Tell me, Falion. Do you ever step out of the shadows? Or do you simply enjoy peeking through windows when nobody knows you’re there?”
There’s no sign I scored a point. He tugs one glove off as he steps forward into the light. “I enjoyed watching you stab Malechus. I was about to cut your throat myself, except you didn’t run for the exit, you made straight for this room. I’d smelled the poison on your breath and knew you had to have the antidote on you somewhere. You had to take it yourself, of course, before you could paint it across your lips….”
“Somewhat presumptuous.” I summon a small pouch of powder into my hands, curling my fingers around it even as I wave the point of my knife at him.Look at the knife, go on…. Just focus on the knife….“I’ve been sipping miroire for years in order to acquire a certain immunity. It’s my favorite. The kiss of death…. Nobody ever sees it coming, and most males are too fucking stupid to look beyond what I’m offering them.”
“Not this one,” he whispers, and as our eyes meet, I know he’s about to repay everything I did to Mistmark that long ago summer.
I throw the pouch at him and he bats it aside, the spill of crushed bone and grave dust painting across his chest.
“You missed,” he says with a dangerous smile, before he vanishes.
“Did I?” I mutter, feeling him pop into being behind me. Dropping into a crouch, I spin and slice my second knife across his thigh—the one dipped in poison.
He sucks in a startled breath, but he’s a professional. He Sifts out of reach in order to regather himself, instead of coming at me again.
I straighten, pretending to wince. “That cut looks nasty. You’d better clean it before it gets infected. Or… before the monksflower on the blade starts to work its way through your leg.” This time, it’s my turn to smile. “I’d estimate that you have a good half minute before your leg feels like it’s on fire.”
He growls under his breath and plucks at his shirt, where my mixture of bone and grave dust paints the fabric. “You can track me.”
“Oh, please.” I barely resist the urge to roll my eyes. “My sister is a Shadow Walker. Did you think I wouldn’t have somehow accounted for someone of her skills?”
“Sister, huh?” Falion’s eyes narrow. “Ah, I thought the sweet Lady Merisel looked familiar. Well, if I’ve only got another twenty seconds, then I guess I’d best make them count, eh?”
He vanishes again.
My wards tug at me a second before he reappears to the right of me.
My knife cuts through the air, but he’s ready this time. Slamming a hand to my elbow, he blocks the blow, and then he’s angling his own knife straight toward my chest. I twist and block, but the tip slashes through my shirt.
I can’t move my fucking arm. The block he has on me is excellent, and he’s stronger than me, with a greater reach.
It’s a good thing I’m ambidextrous.
I drop the knife and catch it with my left hand, slicing a fine line of blood across his chest as he leaps back. Free again. But not for long. Our blades duel even as our bodies slam against each other. I throw everything I have at him, and he counters almost elegantly. My fist meets his cupped palm. His blade retorts with a stinging swipe across my cheek, even as I drive my heel into his instep.
It’s a blur of violence, carefully choreographed by long-gone masters who taught us our trade.
And I can’t find a fucking weakness.
We break apart for a second, both aware we’ve met our match as we circle each other like panthers. It’s been a long time since I’ve come across a foe who can keep me on my toes.
I’d almost be enjoying myself if I didn’t need to get out of here in a hurry.
I glance toward the bier, and Mistmark is stirring.
Dragon’s scurvy.
I cannot let him catch me here.
“Thought you were going to show me the error of my ways?” I taunt, lunging forward. “Looks like you’re just an average assassin when your feet are grounded in reality.”
