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“Stay still little lamb. The meat doesn’t taste as sweet when you panic,” he says, leaning down toward her ear. She turns her head as much as she can and spits straight into his face. I can’t help the smile that buds on my lips.
His features twist into fury as he wipes the slime away. Raising his free hand, he lands it swiftly on the exposed side of her face before he shoves her, again unmovable between his weight and the ground. The last bit of air forces out of her in a grunt. I grind my teeth as his blow lands on her already bruised jaw. The energy humming through my limbs demands to be released, and I draw my sword once again.
“Lift her up, Jaren. Now.” Effervescent energy courses through my body as I see a red welt forming on the side of Ari’s healing face.
Jaren eyes the older man in their group, who in turn narrows his gaze toward me. A glimmer passes through the man’s eyes, the corner of his lips turning up almost imperceptibly. He looks me up and down before shifting his gaze to Ari. “Lift her up,” he says, the full force of his stare boring into me once more.
At first Jaren resists the order, scowling at the man who gave it. But eventually, he begins to lift himself up, peeling away the pressure holding her in place. I can’t help the satisfactory tug at my lips as I watch him, not bothering to hide it from the man watching my every move.
“Goodbye, Jaren.” I mouth in his direction as he fully releases his weight from her back.
Like a feral cat released from its cage, she springs into action. Twisting her body around in the dirt and lining up her feet with his face, she uses the full force of her legs to swing around and land a kick square to Jaren’s jaw. He falls back to the ground, face bloody from a broken nose and what appears to be a few loose teeth. He releases a high-pitched growl, spitting blood from his mouth, more blood dotting his shirt as it would appear the wound at his side is obviously still unhealed.
The two remaining men are frozen, mouths slightly ajar as they stare at her, then down to their companion’s bleeding form on the ground. “You’ll regret this,” the older man spits out between clenched teeth.
“I don’t think I will,” I respond before charging the two men.
Ari knocks Jaren out with another swift kick to the head, taking the knife sheathed at his chest and running to my side. She moves to take the smaller of the men, dancing around him as he tries to strike her. One. Two. Three. Ari ducks, rolling around him as she swings a leg back, catching him off balance.
I focus my attention on the older man who clearly has more gumption than his other companions. We parry for a few moments, blocking each other’s blows, ducking fists, and moving steadily around the clearing. The subtle crackling of the fire blends into the song of our fight. The man lashes out, grazing my arm, a sharp pain shooting through the wound. A quick glance confirms the cut is minor, and I charge with renewed fervor.
The clang of metal rings through the quiet of darkness. Ari moves around the camp behind me, crossing my vision once or twice before I hear anoomphand the sound of a body hitting the ground.
I turn in a panic, looking in the direction of the noise. Ari stands over the man now splayed across the forest floor, his still form staring off into the trees. I’ve stopped being surprised that such a small woman can bring down a man twice her size. She is quick, clever, and carries a deathly precision that no one would expect, giving her the advantage in a fight. I smile when I think of how naïve I was that first night at Sir Reynauld’s estate, believing it would be like cutting through butter to bring her in.
Distracted, my opponent rushes me. I’m knocked hard to the ground, pain radiating from the back of my head as it collides with something hard and unforgiving. Before I can stand again, he’s on top of me, sword at my throat.
“Women are a weakness,” he spits down at me. My sword is on the ground, too far for me to reach. His knee crushes against my arm. The blade against my neck is enough incentive not to move.
He laughs down at me, as I can do nothing but stare up at him. “Unfortunately for you, you won’t get to live long enough to remedy this weakness.”
The firelight is blocked by his body, his shadow casting a dark blanket over me as I try to keep my focus away from the pain in my head. He raises his hand to strike his sword through my neck, the satisfaction bleeding through the glint in his eyes. But before he can strike, I hear a guttural sound escape his mouth, his face going rigid as pain and confusion darken his features.
An arrow protrudes from his chest, and his sword goes limp in his grip. I push him off, rolling him to the side as I jump to my feet. My head swims, a light-headedness pulling me down, and I drop to one knee to keep from falling over.
Ari stands across the way, bow still raised, her focus intent on the now lifeless form sprawled into the dirt. A calm impassivity encompasses the air around her, all except for her eyes. They reflect the blazing fire in the center of the mayhem, glistening as she lowers the bow.
“Are you ok?” I manage to ask, looking at each of the four men lying on the ground before landing them again on her.
“Yes. We should go,” she says sternly. “Now.” I nod in agreement as I try to rise again, successfully this time.
I shake away the dizziness as we busy ourselves gathering up our things, rapidly throwing whatever we can find into bags and saddling her horse. I stare at the woman as she grabs the reins, leading her horse out of the clearing. A blank expression rests across her face. She doesn’t glance my way as we head out, leaving the dead and unconscious men in our wake as if it never happened.
It feels like hours have passed, the energy of the night waning into a deep and draining exhaustion. “We should avoid the main roads as much as we can for a while,” I state once we are well away from Silas’s men.
She says nothing, the only noise around us coming from the subtle crunch of leaves and twigs underneath our feet and the slight breeze blowing through the trees.
“Ari?” I stare at her blank face, noting the same trauma among my men after their first true fight. I quicken my pace until I’m beside her. “Ari. Was he the first man you killed?”
“No,” she says matter-of-factly, her features even and steady, still facing forward.
I want to break through her trance, to get her to look at me. She seems as though she’s sleep walking, her body making the movements, but her mind is completely shut down. “It’s normal to want to distance yourself from a situation such as this. But it’s important to remember that defending yourself, or another person from harm, isn’t always a heinous act. Sometimes it’s brave, courageous— and a right all of us have. To preserve our own life. Our right for safety and security. The shock can feel overwhelming, but—”
She begins to laugh, cutting me off as if I had just told her the funniest joke she’d ever heard. The girl stops walking and falls to her knees, the sound bursting from her in waves until it seems that’s all she’s capable of. There’s a sorrow to the sinisterness of it— a mask to her pain, I realize.
I’ve seen many reactions from men and the shock that follows after killing someone or witnessing death, even if it’s someone they don’t know or particularly care about. But I’ve never seen someone convulse with laughter in this way. It might be eerie to anyone else, but I’ve learned that everyone deals in their own way and their own time. All I feel is an intense need to wrap my arms around her.
“Ari,” I try to get her attention, crouching down in front of her, concern weaving through my very bones. I put my hand on her shoulder, gripping it gently, attempting to catch her attention.Just look at me,I want to shout.
