I gagged. The other two men stalked toward me, closing in from two sides. I nearly lost control of my bladder as I read what was written in their faces.
When the first one shot toward me, I spun away, cringing at the loud clunk of metal on stone. The other man cupped his wounded arm with his free hand, blood dripping from his elbow. He came at me, but his swing was weaker. I lifted my left hand and caught the pipe, but I wasn’t strong enough to push it down. With his weapon stabilized, I jammed my knife in the man’s shoulder. I’d never stabbed anyone, never intentionally hurt anyone in my life, but the way he crumpled away, hissing in agony, flooded me with renewed energy.
Until the second man’s pipe knocked into my back, sending me sprawling to the cobblestones. Covington’s knife spun on the ground a few feet away. The man had grazed the wall with the edge of his pipe, which was the only reason my shoulder hadn’t shattered with the impact. I couldn’t draw a breath, couldn’t even hold myself up. My chest flopped against the cold stones, my vision dancing.
Heavy steps approached. Then, suddenly, the man dropped to the ground with a sickening crunch. A knife protruded from his back.
Covington hurried toward me, his hands flecked with blood as he lifted me to my feet.
His eyes roamed my face. “Look at me,” he commanded. But I couldn’t focus. “Look at me,” he said again. I tried, but I had to blink, cramming my eyes shut against the rush of fear threatening to pull me under. “Where are you hurt?”
I couldn’t answer, could only stare at the two men on the ground. The others had fled. I fell against Covington. He held me upright, setting me back on my feet. Sobs of relief burst from my mouth. Covington’s hands held my shoulders and he bent forward, examining my entire body with searching eyes, worriedeyes. He spun me around, then paused. His fingers roamed over the tender spot on my back. His touch was gentle, quick.
“Here?” he asked, his featherlight touch hovering over my left shoulder blade. I nodded, unable to calm the violent shaking in my core. “He missed the spine. It’ll leave a nasty bruise, but you’ll be fine.” He stepped around to face me, his hands still holding me steady. His blue eyes looked as sharp as blades as they met mine. “Are you okay to walk?”
I swallowed, staring at his shirt collar instead of his piercing eyes. My head nodded, but the motion was a lie.
“Ari, look at me.”
I did.
“We’re okay.”
I nodded again, still not sure. “You’re bleeding.”
“I’m fine.” He had a gash on his forearm. “You’re okay. They aren’t going to hurt you. They’re gone.” This time, I nodded and believed it. “That’s it,” he urged, still gripping my upper arms as if he knew letting go would be like ripping the buttresses from the cathedral’s spire.
After a moment, he said, “Let’s do this another night.”
“No,” I breathed. “I’m okay.” I straightened, squinting slightly from the soreness in my back, and glanced at the skies.
Covington eyed me narrowly for several seconds. “I don’t think it’s the best time to try?—”
“Try what? I want to know what you’ve been up to. What all this is about.”
Covington’s long pause drew my eyes back to him. “Okay. Let’s go. It’s not far.”
We strolled silently down the streets, neither one of us speaking as we rounded two more corners.
Finally, Covington said, “You were good back there.”
“I fell on my face.”
“After you stabbed a grown man. Most girls would’ve just screamed and watched. How’d you learn to fight like that?”
I nearly burst into tears, but I reined my emotions in, not wanting to appear fragile. “Out of necessity.” He glanced at me, but I didn’t meet his gaze. “How’d you learn to fight?”
“Out of necessity.”
I snorted, but he didn’t elaborate as we rounded another street corner. Then I recalled the wound on his side the first day I’d spoken to him at his lair. He was a good fighter, fending off several attackers at once tonight. Whatever he’d been into on race day, he’d not escaped as easily.
“There.” Covington pointed toward the sky. “He’s early. Must have sensed your distress.”
Myth’s black shape was barely visible in the sky at night. My heart soared.
Covington was staring at me. He nodded, as if confirming something to himself. “Come on; we can do this in the courtyard.”
CHAPTER 22
