Ilys froze, pulse hammering. She looked around, expecting someone, anyone, to intervene. But the fiddles still shrieked, the dancers still laughed, and no one seemed to see. Or perhaps they had chosen not to. Perhaps the struggle of a woman would always be too quiet.
She shoved her empty pudding cup into Death’s hands and strode toward the pair, boots cutting sharp against the stones.
“Hey!” she shouted over the music, her voice slicing through the air. A few nearby revelers glanced her way, but no one moved.
“Hey!” she called again, louder this time, when the man still ignored her. He had the girl’s chin in a bruising grip, forcing her to look at him.
Ilys seized him by the hair and yanked him backward. He swore and spun on her, breath hot with drink, bloodshot eyes narrowing.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he bellowed, spit flying.
She squared her shoulders the way Baron had taught her and drove her fist into his face. His head snapped back, blood spraying from his crooked nose.
“Get the fuck off her,” she snarled, planting herself between him and the girl.
The girl scrambled back, wide-eyed, her hand pressed to her reddening cheek. She wavered for only a moment before bolting into the crowd, vanishing like a startled bird.
The man reeled, blinking against the blood and fury in front of him.
“Stay out of this, bitch.” His voice seeped out as a wet slur, his beard shining where it caught the lantern light. He lunged again, reaching past her.
“What, am I not to your liking?” Ilys purred, her voice a blade’s edge. And then she hit him again.
He stumbled this time, clutching his face, swearing.
“Leave her alone,” she hissed, “or have some fun with me instead.”
The man roared and came at her, this time swinging. Ilys ducked, felt his fist graze her temple, and slammed her knee up into his gut. He doubled over, wheezing, but lashed out blindly, catching her shoulder hard enough to spin her. She snarled and tackled him, the two of them going down hard on the stone.
They rolled, clawing, kicking, grappling like feral dogs. His fist caught her cheek. Her elbow cracked against his ribs. Her braid came loose, hair tangling across her face. The crowd had gone deathly still around them, music forgotten. Then the glint of metal flashed between them.
Ilys felt the bite of the knife before she saw it. Hot pain lanced her shoulder, sharp and sudden, and for one stunned second she only stared.
“Fuck,” she spat, staggering back, one hand pressed to the wound. Blood seeped hot through her fingers, staining her palm.
The man grinned through the blood on his own face, smug and cruel. “Should’ve stayed out of it.”
Her vision went red. She drove her foot into his jaw, once, twice, again until his head cracked against the stones. He swore and tried to rise, dragging the knife with him. Death caught up before she could lunge again.
He dropped to one knee at her side, pressing a hand hard against the wound, his eyes blown wide with fear.
Then he stood.
The man had barely gotten to his knees when Death’s hand fisted in his collar, hauling him upright like he weighed nothing. Death’s face looked carved from fury, the shadows around him seeming to deepen. He slammed the man back against the post so hard the lantern shuddered above them, then drove his fist into the man’s jaw with a crack that shocked the square.
“Stay the fuck down,” Death growled, low and lethal. The man slumped, half-conscious, spitting blood into the dirt.
Death let him fall like discarded meat, then dropped back to Ilys, his hands already moving to staunch the bleeding. His voice came tight, urgent. “Hold still.”
Ilys hissed, clutching at his wrist to keep him there. “I had him.”
His jaw worked, but he didn’t argue, just pressed harder against the wound, his body between her and the rest of the square, as though daring anyone else to try. Without a word, he swept her up into his arms.
She stiffened on instinct, but her body betrayed her, melting against him.
He carried her toward the horses, his grip steady, his breath even, but his eyes, his eyes were dark, clouded, and afraid.
Chapter 32
