Panic wracked him as he shoved the man off her, and something inside him died when he saw the blood soaking Vera’s front. “Oh, fates no . . .”
She stared up at him, looking a bit dazed as she struggled to breathe. “I’m—fine. He—knocked the breath from me, that’s all.”
He knelt beside her, his hands carefully touching her bloody dress, his pulse roaring in his ears. But his shaking fingers found nothing—no wound.
It wasn’t her blood.
Relief slammed into him, but he couldn’t stop shaking.
Vera grimaced as she sat up. “The hilt of the knife hit me, and the blade must have gone into his stomach.” She glanced at the man’s unmoving body. “I think that’s what killed him.”
And covered her in blood.
A shudder wracked Venn. He gathered her into his arms, not caring about the blood. He had no air for words.
Vera was alive. He hadn’t lost her.
A boot scuffed behind him, and Venn reacted without thought. He grabbed another dagger from his belt as he spun, uncoiling from his knees.
Venn deflected Tariq’s plunging knife by ducking inside his guard and slamming his arm aside. In the same breath, he shoved his knife into Tariq’s chest.
The mercenary’s eyes shot wide. His breath caught with a grunt. His battered face registered shock before it went slack and he fell to the ground.
Neither enemy was breathing now.
Vera’s entire body shook as she stood, but she was the one to speak first. “The children?”
“I left them in the alley.” Venn couldn’t tear his gaze from Tariq’s still body.
Vera touched his arm. “We should go to them.”
He nodded, but didn’t move. He didn’t seem to be able to.
Vera slipped in front of him, blocking his view of Tariq. She rubbed his arms gently, and her voice was soft. “They’re both dead. We’re safe now. It’s over.”
He knew that, but . . . fates, it didn’t feel over. His heart still hammered against his ribs.
“We shouldn’t stay here,” Vera whispered. “What will happen to the children if we’re arrested?”
That penetrated some of his fog. He doubted anyone in the city would appreciate the fact that two Devendrans stood over the bodies of two Mortisians.
He nodded, this time more firmly. His eyes finally focused on her. “Are you all right? Did they hurt you?”
“A knife nicked my side, but it’s nothing.”
He was already sinking into a crouch to examine the wound, one hand steadying her hip while the other explored her sides.
She grabbed his shoulders, though he wasn’t sure if it was in an effort to steady herself or him—or perhaps to still his methodical search. “It’s not anything to worry about,” she tried to assure him.
He found the wound, and thank the fates it was small. It was a thin cut, streaking over her previous scar.
He tipped his head back to meet her gaze. “I’m sorry.”
Her expression softened, and her hands slid down to his upper arms. Her fingers flexed around his biceps. “It’s not your fault, Venn. You saved me.”
He hated that she’d been hurt, though.
When he pushed to his feet, Vera winced as she studied his face. “Your nose is bleeding.”
