She held herself still as the blade returned to normal, hoping Tarian hadn’t noticed it elongate with the other males groaning and spitting and talking. She waited for Tarian to walk up close to her, his boots near her face, her anger burning hot.
“My goodness, little dove, you?—”
She dug her knife into his calf, higher than she’d wanted. Wasting absolutely zero time, never having moved so fast in her life, she slashed down her body to cut away the magic and ran. Ran so hard and fast she could barely feel her legs. She just needed to get out of his range. Just needed?—
Her legs locked up, and she was barely able to twist so that she didn’t fall on her face. But her knife still worked. She freed herself and hopped up again, then once more, struggling for distance. Trying to?—
Her knife was knocked out of her hand, and her whole body was caught.Fucking magic!
She breathed hard, thinking about struggling. About twisting or inchworming or anything to get away.
Worry only about that which you can control,she told herself, needing to hear the words in her head. NotZorn’s this time, but her own.Learn how to adapt to everything else.
She relaxed further. She’d lost this battle, but she had not lost the war. She’d see Tarian again. She’d kiss her way through those big guys, with the long hair and half man-buns. She’d kiss her way through a castle, if they took her to one. Through a dungeon. She didn’t give a shit. Until she died, he’d be constantly busy.Constantly.
She knew it was him by the shoes. And the limp. Then the lean. He was getting good at the leaning…
Her face was frozen, so she snickered in her mind so he could hear it.
Blood soaked part of his pants and dripped down his shoe to the ground. The knife had gone in deep.
“Ouch,” he said as he picked up her weapon. “Your love bites really do sting, dove. That one worst of all, I think. And look, now it’s my pants you’ve ruined! I could’ve just washed these, but holes? I can’t pull off a patch. It’s simply not my style.”
The magic surrounding her disappeared, and she sat up slowly, tilting her head up to offer him a look of loathing. His eyes were dancing, shining brightly, like Daisy fighting for her life had all been one big joke.
“You really do help me make a statement,” he said in a murmur, reaching down.
“I have no interest in helping you make a statement.”
Daisy’s teeth ground together, her expressiondisplaying utter disgust at Tarian’s obvious amusement. He hadn’t been betraying her; he’d been once again playing games. He’d been using her for his entertainment, or maybe just showing his people what she was capable of. Because theywerehis people. That was obvious now. Not buyers or traders, but part of his outfit. He’d never intended to give her up, but to have a little fun as they integrated into this next faction.
And she’d fallen for it, hook, line, and fucking sinker.
“All the same,” he said. “Here, take my hand. The station is not far away. There’s food there. And rest. And healing ointments that everyone will now be needing. You almost killed one of myFallen.” He said the last word in a strange accent, almost as though it were a name and not meant to be translated by her blood gift. “I had to freeze the sword you threw in midair. Good aim. Perfect rotation. It’s not a magical sword, but it almost seemed like it was…and on your side. Like this clever little knife here.” He studied it for a moment. “It likes you better than me. Imagine that. And all the fun times we’ve had.”
She shook her head, really fucking annoyed, not least because she’d known that moment of hurt when he first began the trick. She was an idiot, and he’d proven it. Zorn would slap her silly, and rightfully so.
Images and words and emotions tumbled through her mind from his point of view, starting from when she’d noticed the strangers’ presence until right beforeTarian limped over to collect her. These guys were part of his Starwardens, whatever that meant. Four of ten total, they’d been sent out to look for him. The other six were back at the station, like the one they’d stayed in last night, only much bigger. They were all waiting for him. Worried about him.
“Well, bully for you,” she groused. “Someone gives a shit about your wellbeing.”
There was no denying it, though. She felt their concern. Their closeness to him. They’d known each other for a long time. Since they were kids, if she had to guess.
She saw what she looked like through their eyes, all four. In summary, not much. Scrawny, one thought. Scared, thought another. Weak, pitiful. They didn’t seem to notice her filthy hair or the dirt streaking her face. Her pants caked with filth or her bra kinda loose and ill-fitting, on a little lopsided. They might not have noticed, but she did. She scrubbed at her face immediately.
“You don’t care that they think so little of your prowess, but you do care about the dirt you collected while trying to stay alive?” Tarian asked, amused.
“My greatest strength is being underestimated,” she replied. “I’d much rather do that while looking good. I look an absolute mess.”
“You are very vain.”
“Like you can talk.”
“I can talk, yes. I, too, am very vain. Takes one to know one, as they say.”
She took his hand and let him pull her up as the rest of the memories tumbled through.
Can she actually use the knife, or is it just to communicate?Mr. Pitiful asked.
