Page 29 of Kill the Beast
He dropped his hands, then raised them quickly when she started to move toward him. “What do you mean?”
“If what Rags said is true, then I need you to be not-dead in order to make a sword that can kill the Beast. And Idefinitelyneed you to be not-dead in order for you to lead me to the monster’s den. Show me that if something goes south, you won’t get slaughtered.”
“I won’t get slaughtered,” he insisted.
“Prove it.”
His face set with determination. For a moment it seemed like he wasn’t going to do anything other than shift his weight from foot to foot, but when Lyssa moved to strike him again, he lashed out, catching her chin with the heel of his hand. Her head snapped back and she staggered, her vision going white for a moment.
There was a cackle from the porch—Nadia and Rags were on the swing, looking delighted.
“Sorry!” Al cried, putting up his hands in surrender.
“Very good,” she growled through gritted teeth. Adrenaline was sparking in her veins now, and despite what she had told him, she raised her fists again.
“But you said—”
“I don’t care what I said.” She advanced, closing the distance between them swiftly.
She wasn’t sure what happened; one moment she was getting ready to hit Alderic in his stupid, panicked face, and the next her legs had been swept out from under her and she was flat on her back, wheezing for breath. The cackling from the porch rose to shrieks of laughter.
“Sorry! I’m so sorry!” Alderic said. “You looked like you were going to hit me again, and I… well, I…”
“He tossed you like a sack of chicken feed!” Ragnhild howled.
Lyssa glared up at him. His stupid face was racked with guilt and concern, and he held out a hand to help her up. She grabbed it and yanked him to the ground, flipping him so that she was straddling him, her knife pressed to his throat beneath the layers of his cravat.
“You did good, Al,” she said. “But you have to stop being such a gentleman. It’s going to get you killed.”
His mouth twisted in amusement. “I’ll have to remember that.”
“See that you do.” She climbed off him and helped him to his feet.
“Do you feel better about me coming along, though?” he asked, brushing leaves off his backside.
“Marginally.”
“Marginally?” Nadia crowed from the porch. “He knocked you flat on your ass!”
Lyssa ignored her, though she felt her cheeks go hot. “At least I know you won’t get slaughtered like a lamb the second we get into trouble.”
“I told you I wouldn’t,” he said, with a self-satisfied smile. “Maybe that will teach you not to make assumptions based on someone’s appearance.”
“And maybeyoushouldn’t get a big head just because you managed to hit me once.”
“I also swept you off your feet,” he reminded her.
She scowled. “Do you want to go again?”
He backed up a step, the panicked look returning to his face. “Not particularly.”
“Then shut up.”
Brandy whined pitifully, straining against Ragnhild’s grip on his collar.
“You have to stay here, darling,” Lyssa said, kneeling down to let the bullmastiff lick her face. “It’s not safe for you out there.” Brandy huffed his disagreement, insulted. “I know you’ve fought Hound-wardens before,” she told him, rubbing his ear. “But things are different now. You’re getting too…” She trailed off, letting the wordolddie on her lips. She refused to think of him as old. Refused to acknowledge that if they had never found the Witch’s Wood and Ragnhild’s cottage, she would already have lost him years ago.
Brandy growled a warning deep in his throat, glaring at Alderic, as if accusing the man of usurping his rightful place by Lyssa’s side.
