Biting down nausea, Aaron rolled just quick enough to dodge the rising cloaked villain. A gloved hand reached for the knife that lay just to the north.
Crawling on his elbows as fast as he could, Aaron reached for the hilt of the dagger. Before he could grasp it, a fist collided with the back of his head. He cried out in pain but threw himself toward the weapon, even as more blows rained down on his back and his neck.
A heaviness pressed on his back as the other man positioned himself on top of Aaron’s body, holding him to the pavement.
Fuck. He was going to die there. Him and Weiss. And Isabelle was going to be at the mercy of the Berabs, all because they both couldn’t help sniping at each other instead of watching their surroundings.
Elbows now bleeding, he pulled himself further to at least cover part of the knife with his chest. Pain nearly blinding him, he held his ground until, all of a sudden, a whop rang through the air, and the weight was off his back.
Shouts rang out as the attacker grappled with a wildly swinging Weiss, who was making up for what he lacked in aim with shear enthusiasm.
“Get the knife,” Weiss ordered him. Quick as he could, Aaron obeyed, palming the thing and swinging around Weiss—whom their attacker was now holding by the lapels—so he could press the weapon to their attacker’s temple. Or at least where he believed the man’s temple was, as the thick hood remained over his head, shadowing his features.
Aaron reached for the material, but before he could make contact, the attacker shot to his feet, rushing out of the alley, though not before giving Aaron one sharp, stinging crack to his jaw.
And for a moment, everything went dark. When he came to, the blinking stars yielded to Weiss standing over him, staring down.
“Are you . . . ,” he asked, reaching his hand out to Aaron.
“I’m . . . fine.” Accepting Weiss’s arm, he struggled to his feet. “A bit bruised, no doubt, but it could’ve been worse.” With a groan, Aaron managed to lean against the rough wooden frame of the nearest building. Wincing, he stepped forward as pain radiated from his side. Oy, he was going to be sore in the morning.
“I’ll say.” Weiss gave him a once-over as he brushed his own rumpled garments. “I will also say, that was . . . impressive.”
“Impressive?” Aaron wrinkled his nose, not quite sure if the other man was sincere.
“Yes, I mean, I had heard you were tough, but you really . . .” Weiss let out a low whistle. “You saved us both.”
“I had some hel—” Aaron started just as the other man collapsed on the ground.
Aaron rushed to Weiss’s side and kneeled on the stones. A flash of lightning illuminated the sky above as the fallen man clutched his knee. Aaron reached out a finger and poked the area, which was already so swollen it was straining within Weiss’s trousers.
“It’s nothing,” the other man said through slightly gritted teeth. “Before I got here, I took a tumble down a cellar, and this just aggravated it a touch.” He rubbed the joint.
Oy. Weiss was in no shape to walk. And limping down these streets alone in the middle of the night? Not a good idea if you wanted to remain alive. Especially if you were wearing rather shiny buttons sure to draw the eye of every thief worth their salt.
Aaron closed his eyes for a moment and inhaled before wrapping Weiss’s arm over his shoulders and hoisting him a little. “Come along,” he said to the other man. “Let’s get you home.”
Quickly. With hopefully a little help at some point.
“Thank you,” the other man whispered as he leaned on Aaron.
Grunting, Aaron pushed toward the mouth of the alley and the road, a nagging thought at the back of his brain.
This was his fault. Somehow, someway. No, he couldn’t quite make out the particulars of it, but it had to be something he’d done along the way. Some task he’d mucked up with his schlemiel ways.
He glanced at the other man. “I think you might be right,” he said, though he hated to admit it.
“Of course. I’m always right,” Weiss said, grinning, before wincing and clutching his knee again. “About what?” he asked.
Aaron closed his eyes. “I think it might be better for everyone involved and the community if I leave, sooner rather than later.”
Weiss didn’t say anything, for once, and instead nodded as both of their steps grew firmer and the first light of dawn struck the horizon, heralding a new day and bringing them another step closer to everything being settled, once and for all.
Three days after the glorious night in the garden, Isabelle was once again pacing her sitting room, marble fireplace to window seat to chamber door and back, over and over, Baron at her heels. She’d not seen Aaron since that magical night they’d shared, and they were running out of time. Or she was. The final festival was almost upon her. And she was going to have to officially choose a husband, have to marry someone. Whether she wanted to or not.
Weiss was the correct decision, the best way to save the business and protect her family and the community and her place in it. Even Aaron himself had said so. Which meant it should be settled. She should tell her grandmother and Pena today so they could begin the negotiations with the older brother. However . . . She bit her lip.
She couldn’t push Aaron from her mind. Why hadn’t he come to her again? Yes, he had another job and had found her all the information there was to get, but . . . She bit her lip again. She had to see him before it was all over—one last time. Had to. It was a need, not a want. Because if she could see him, she could sort out the muddle in her head and somehow make things come out right.
