Now, I’m wedged up against the headstone, and without throwing myself backwards, there’s no way out of this little trap I’m stuck in.
Not that it matters.
Because a gasp jolts me just as Rust kicks off from a headstone and, twisting through the air, swings for Samick’s throat.
My hands smack to my mouth, stifling the shout that lunges through me.
Samick ducks, skidding under the blade; then he shoves upwards and drives the hilt of his sword into Rust’s chin, hard.
Rust snarls, sharp teeth flashing with dark blood.
Before he can get his footing, Samick turns with his staggering body, then drives his elbow up—a clean collision that strikes right into Rust’s chin.
The impactcracks.
I hear it, I feel it in my cringing bones.
Behind my hands, my teeth bare in a wince.
A blow like that to a human would shatter a jaw, dislocate it, and probably take off half of a face.
Rust is injured—but in no way the same way I would be from those strikes.
Black blood, thick like tar, sprays from his mouth. He doesn’t get a second to recover—
Samick pivots and boots him right in the gut.
The breath bursts out of Rust in a strangled sound. His boots slide out from under his stumbling legs, and he falls backwards.
He hits the soil, hard.
The fight should end there…
I should feel relief.
I should soften under the rise of laughter than comes from the onlookers, chuckles that the fae let grumble in their chests, and the ones who huff, who start to trade off coin and daggers and waterskins…
Theygambledon this.
Bet on it.
But there’s no winner yet.
Their celebrations are premature.
Because Rust’s fall brings him dangerously close—to me. He’s sprawled out on the grass on the other side of the headstones.
If he reaches through the gap between two stones, he can snatch me by the ankle.
There’s no Samick or Arwyn to block him, I’m wedged between the bulking muscle and the gravestone, and Samick is rows ahead, looking up at the general.
It’s just a heartbeat’s moment, but it’s one that’s frozen, with Rust’s red eyes glaring at me.
In this frozen moment, we are the only two things in the world, and everything else is a hum of white noise in a dark room.
I would stay locked in his stare, rooted to the spot, if he let me.
But Rust tears our gazes apart as he flips like a fucking gymnast, and he’s suddenly on his feet.
