“And lastly, you can always go for the groin.”
Hazel stiffened, partially waiting for the end of the joke, the part where he’d try to place her hand in his crotch.Not happening.
Slaide chuckled, dropping her hand and running his own through his hair. “I didn’t realize I was getting myself involved with such a delicate little flower. But you might want to get used to it, sweets.”
I hate that nickname…
“In all seriousness, you never know when stabbing a man in the dick could save your life. And in some situations, it might be the only chance you get to get away. Now, let’s practice.”
“Practice?”
“Yes? Is that a problem?”
“You want me topracticestabbing you. No, it’s not a problem for me. Feels like it could be a problem for you, though,” she mocked.
“Of course I don’t want you to stab me. I didn’t realize that was something that needed to be said.” He eyed her incredulously. “We are going to practicelocationandangle. No stabbing.”
So, with shaking hands, Hazel stepped into Slaide and touched the blade against his skin, at the places he’d showed her. Each time he’d adjusted her angle slightly, to give the blade the best possible entry in a real fight. But overall, he looked impressed with her placement.
“I’m going to turn around now, and you can practice the spots I showed you on the back. Same rules. No stabbing.”
But this time, with his back turned, the temptation was real. They were in the middle of nowhere. Maybe she could incapacitate him and get far enough away. Sure, he’d kept her alive so far, maybe even kept her from a worse fate, if he was to be believed. Her eyes traveled from the blade to the spot on Slaide’s back he’d explained was the location of the kidney.
“I don’t recommend doing what you’re thinking about doing,” Slaide tossed over his shoulder.
She paused, lowering the blade. “How would you know what I’m thinking?”
Slaide laughed. It was a surprisingly warm, homey sound. “You’re a captive of the crown, you despise me, I kicked your ass in sword training… you’re thinking what any desperate person would be.” Something changed in his voice. “Actually, you know what? Do it. I dare you. No one will mourn my loss. I doubt anyone would even come looking.” He crossed his hands behind his head to give her full access to his back.
Hazel looked down at the glinting steel in her hands. At the intricate swirling patterns in the blade, the hand-carved, wooden hilt wrapped with supple leather cording. How many lives has this dagger claimed at his hand? How many innocents bled under its edge? And she held it in her grasp. She could put an end to one man’s reign of terror.No, the voice in her head said,you aren’t like them.You’re weak and feeble both in mind and body. And it was right. She was in over her head.
As though he’d sensed the change in her, Slaide turned around, finding she was no longer poised to run him through. Instead, she stared at the grass, blade arm limp at her side, her mind lost to thoughts of things she’d been torn away from.
His brow furrowed. “Hey.” His voice softened. “What’s going on in that head of yours?” He grabbed her chin and tilted it up tolook at him, but she wouldn’t meet his eyes. “Well, well. Aren’t you a pretty, broken little thing?”
She shoved his hand away. “I am not broken.”
“Yeah, sure. Neither am I,” he deadpanned.
“You don’t know anything about me,” Hazel hissed.
“Well, there’s something we can agree on. You aren’t much of a talker so…”
Her eyes shot daggers.
He put his hands up defensively.
“Can I go home?” Her eyes shimmered slightly, the angry mask she put on faltering.
“No.” Slaide folded his arms.
She examined the dagger again.
“Changed your mind about stabbing me that quickly, eh?” He was smiling broadly.Idiot.
Her face was stone cold, but the fire in her eyes could have melted every last inch of ice and snow from the twin peaks of The Sisters. “I never said I wasn’t going to stab you. It makes little sense to do it when you’re expecting it.”
He chuckled softly. “Something tells me I will always need to expect a knife in my back as long as you’re around.”
