“Is that wise?”
“They are an annoyance I don’t need. The sooner I deal with it, the better.”
“You could’ve avoided it altogether. I told you not to get into that carriage. You have an infuriating habit of listening to the warning and then doing whatever you want anyway and then you get mad at Ev—Ramondfor doing the same.”
“I have a reputation to consider,” he said. “Sometimes long-term strategy demands short-term risks.”
“I don’t want anything bad to happen to you, Solentine.” I gave him a big smile. “After all, you’re my favorite cousin.”
“Thank the Aspects for that,” he muttered.
CHAPTER33
Your first defense is always to scream and run away,” Everard said.
After our trip to the Ribs, Solentine had delivered me back to the house. My plan was to go back to my room and work. There was a passage from the book written in Sareso I wanted to reproduce. But Everard had decided it was a good time to teach me how to use a dagger, and now I was in the courtyard.
The day was lovely. Ragged clouds floated in the sky, and sunshine dappled the yard. The sunlight played on Everard’s dark hair, sliding over his harsh, handsome face. The wind was blowing east, and the air smelled of salt and ocean.
“Don’t go toe-to-toe with your attacker, especially if they are larger than you,” Everard said. “Make noise, draw attention to yourself, and try to gain some distance.”
I nodded.
“We’re going to assume that you tried to run away and failed.” Everard nodded at the three knives waiting on the table to the side. “Pick the one that seems the most comfortable.”
I studied my options. The first knife was single edged, with a six-and-a-half-inch, slightly curved blade and a short wooden handle. The second knife looked like a classic, straight-edged Ka-Bar. My dad had one that looked just like it, except his was larger. This one was a smaller version, lighter, with a six-inch blade. The third was a traditional, double-edged dagger, the same blade I had stabbed into the Butcher’s corpse.
I took the dagger and pulled it out of its leather sheath. It was slender, light, and very sharp.
“Good choice,” Everard said. “Put it back in its sheath.”
I sheathed the dagger and faced him.
His eyes turned cold. He advanced. Menace rolled off him in waves. He moved like someone who hunted and killed people, and some animal instinct inside me recognized him as a predator and screeched in fear.
I took a step back.
He kept coming.
I took another step.
Another.
My legs hit the wine tree table. Nowhere left to go.
Everard loomed in front of me. His hand snapped out and clamped my neck.
The breath caught in my throat.
He didn’t squeeze. He just held me, but the urge to frantically flail and kick myself free gripped me. My heart thudded in my chest. In some books I’d read this would’ve been a sexy moment when the hero used this opportunity to demonstrate his hot, possessive ways and gently caress the heroine’s neck, but nothing about this was sexy. It was scary as hell, and the panic inside me convulsed like a feral cat caught in the loop of a dog catcher’s pole.
Everard held still. “Deep slow breaths.”
I was shaking. Not with fear but with suppressed fight response. I needed to hit him and claw my way free. I knew he wouldn’t hurt me. I knew it, but my instincts were screaming in blind terror. This had to be some kind of reaction to trauma. Kair Toren had done this to me.
“Breathe, Maggie.”
I forced myself to take a slow shuddering breath.
