Page 41 of Between Smoke and Shadow
Wyhel.
I finish adjusting my clothes and snatch a dagger from the wall. I rotate it, double-checking it’s not laced with magic, and hold it handle-first to Rune. Her fingers tremble as she takes it. She doesn’t trust me—not even close—but she’s here.
“What do I do with it?” she asks, turning it over in her hand. Her gaze flickers from the dagger to me. “It’sshort.”
“Yes,” I say, unable to keep a smile from my face. “Like you.”
Her mouth twists into a scowl, creasing the space between her eyebrows. I think I’ve offended her but I’m not sure.
“Do I throw it?” she asks.
“Not if you can help it,” I say, still smiling. “If you miss your target, they’re unharmed and you’re without a weapon.”
“But if I don’t?” she asks. When I only raise my eyebrows, her mouth puckers slightly. “If Idon’tmiss?”
“Who exactly is your target, Rune?” I ask. I don’t mean to—it’s the type of question that will scare her away. If she’s afraid I’m going to throw her in a prison cell once I figure out her scheme, she’s going to stop coming here. She’s going to stop talking to me.
For whatever reason, I want her to stay.
“Don’t answer that,” I say as soon as she opens her mouth. “Tell me something instead.”
I step toward her, and she tenses. I hold my hands in surrender and wait for her to relax before stepping forward again. This time, she remains still. I adjust the dagger in her palm, moving her thumb up and to the left.
“Like this,” I say. Her hand is so small and pale, easily engulfed by mine. “Feel the control that way?”
She nods, face tensed in concentration. I lift her arm then, slowly moving it through a basic defensive block.
“If someone lunged for you, you would do that sideways thrust. Okay? Keep your forearm up by your face.” I gently guide her through the motion. “And this, if you were to stab someone, you’d do it like this.”
I’m out of my mind, so far gone there’s no coming back. I can’t explain what I’m doing or why, but I move her hand in a sharper motion, angling the blade toward my throat. Her cheeksflush, eyes on the dagger instead of me. I show her twice more, relishing the feel of her skin against mine.
When I finally let go and take a step backward, she practices the motion. She’s the picture of intense focus, but her pace is slow and inefficient. Every time she pretends to strike her opponent, she loosens her grip. She doesn’t have good technique, or even good instincts. With or without magic, it’d be easy to disarm her. It’s a thought I should find comforting, but don’t.
“Tell me something,” I remind her.
“Like what?” she asks. She’s still doing the arm movement, but I’ve distracted her. She’s getting sloppier with each attempt, so I should shut up and let her concentrate.
I don’t. I’m selfish and the gathering was horrible and I’m hungry for distraction myself.
“Anything,” I say. Then, “Something about you.”
My desperation is loud. If she notices, she doesn’t show it. She switches the dagger to her opposite hand and practices the same movement. Her left hand is even worse than her right.
“I used to be a kitchen wench,” she says. Her veiled eyes move to my face for the first time since we’ve started. Vibrant blue studies me. “I was promoted to Saskia’s handmaiden. Then Viana’s.”
“Something new. I already know that,” I say.
I might imagine it, but I swear something lights in her expression.
“I wasn’t sure you remembered,” she says. She trades the dagger back to her right hand, fumbling for a moment to find the grip I showed her. She watches the reflective blade instead of me. “I’m not a criminal. I mean, not really. My father was the one who broke the law. I know our family’s crimes are our own, butInever committed a crime.”
“Aside from this?” I ask with a smirk. She looks up at me, face paling, and I realize it’s too soon to tease her. “I’m committing a worse crime than you right now, Rune. You don’t have to worry about me turning you in. All right? You can trust me.”
She doesn’t respond. She lowers her gaze to the dagger, fingers tightening on the handle. After a long pause, she practices the defensive move again and again. I watch her, inexplicably mesmerized at her clumsy movements. Finally, she holds the dagger back to me.
“Handle first,” I tell her, gently rotating the dagger in her hand. “Unless you’re wanting to stab me.”
“No, my prince,” she says, sucking in a breath. “I was?—”
