It had been an inspired move, taking full advantage of the element of surprise. Unfortunately, my brilliance ended there. My own body fell into the alley along with the crates, joining the chaos of flailing limbs and splintering wood.
I struggled to regain my footing, falling twice and rolling across the ground before I managed to find my balance. My right arm fell against a splintered crate, a jagged piece of wood piercing it deeply.
I shouted at the pain, but the crate had already snapped, leaving only a small length of wood still speared into my arm. I hissed and reached for it before remembering the ruffians. Seizing up a second jagged length of broken wood and holding it like a stake, I scrambled to my feet and spun around, looking for an opponent.
Even with my assistance, we were still outnumbered three to two. And I wasn’t sure I counted for much given the size of the ruffians and my lack of combat training.
My eyes swept the narrow confines of the alley, my teeth clenched against the pain in my arm. But astonishment overtook my determination. All four of the men had also regained their feet, but instead of rejoining battle, the ruffians were fleeing the alley, their shouts already receding as they reached its entrance. Before my wide eyes, the three of them disappeared into the street beyond, the last throwing a terrified look over his shoulder.
“I had no idea I was so fearsome,” I said, still trying to block out the pain.
My remaining companion laughed. “You certainly make an impression. For a moment, I thought we were being attacked by a horde.”
I managed a grin. “Where size is lacking, you must make up for it with noise.”
“I’ll remember that for the future.” His voice held a chuckle, and he stepped toward me. “I’m Zakary, by the way.”
“I’m Aria.”
His smile died as he got a proper look at me, his eyes fastening on the spear of jagged wood protruding from my arm.I regarded him back curiously, noting that he was in even worse shape.
He wore simple brown leather and a shirt that must once have been white. Dirt and blood now streaked it, and one of his arms hung limply at his side.
I winced. “That looks broken.”
He nodded confirmation, holding up the other hand. “And at least one of these fingers, I think.” His knuckles were spotted with blood, and the hand was already beginning to swell.
I swallowed, glad that the possession of four brothers had discouraged any tendency toward squeamishness.
“We’re a fair way from any of the healing clinics,” I gasped, fighting a fresh wave of pain from my arm. “So we better get moving. Otherwise one of us is going to collapse before we get there.” I grimaced. “And I hope those men didn’t succeed in taking your coin because I don’t have any.”
I fixed him with a challenging stare in case he was thinking of telling me to pay for myself. I had been injured saving him, so the least he could do was patch me up enough to make it home. I wouldn’t expect him to pay for a full healing, but I needed something or I was going to faint.
I started slowly toward the alley mouth, grimacing at my lack of strength. What would happen if we both collapsed short of the healing clinic? Maybe we should head for my house instead—it was much closer, and once we reached it, my father could fetch a cart to carry us there.
Glancing back over my shoulder, I frowned. Zakary hadn’t moved. Instead, he appeared to be trying to reach inside his vest. The attempted movement made him hiss and pull back his injured hand.
I stomped back over to him. “What in the kingdom are you doing?” I shook my head. “Are you trying to make those fingers worse?”
He sighed. “Both arms! It’s really too bad.” He threw a quick look up and down the alley—still deserted but for the two of us—and lowered his voice. “If you could just reach in and retrieve them for me, I don’t see how it could do any harm.”
I stared at him. Had he taken a blow to the head as well?
“Obviously I won’t say anything to anyone,” he said. “You just have to slide your hand in between the vest and my shirt. Skip the first internal pocket—it’s the second one we want.”
“Thesecondinternal pocket?” Maybe he had a history of blows to the head. How many internal pockets did one person need?
He swayed, his face draining of still more color, and I sighed. Maybe if I humored him and retrieved whatever he was after, we could finally get moving toward the healers. I clearly couldn’t leave him here on his own with two useless arms. He’d probably collapse and die on the spot, after all my hard work to save him.
At least I didn’t have to worry about the awkward closeness the move would require. He clearly wasn’t in a fit state to do me or anyone else any harm.
Sighing, I carefully slid my hand beneath his vest. His shirt still lay between my fingers and the skin of his chest, but warmth flared in my cheeks anyway. Despite my best efforts, it was impossible not to feel the smooth muscles of his chest. Even dirty and blood-stained, he was undeniably attractive. I guessed him to be a couple of years older than me, too. If he’d been a student in my class, I would have developed a crush on our first day.
My fingers slid past one pocket, my breath catching as I heard a familiar rustle. Did he have paper hidden beneath his clothes?
I nearly drew my hand back out empty, but my fingers had already found the second pocket, and they grasped instinctively on the collection of tiny tubes there. Whipping my hand backout, I dropped the retrieved items as if scalded, and backed away, eyes wide. In the open, I could see that the tubes were small, tightly rolled strips of parchment.
“Is that writing?” I took another step back as I looked at the clear skin of his wrists. Peering up and down the alley, I unthinkingly mirrored his earlier movement. Now I knew the reason for his surreptitious look. “Are you trying to get me arrested by the Grays?”
