WHAT HAPPENED NEXT might have been avoided if either she or Pan had been a little more careful or better rested or if her newly revitalized instincts had been able to detect even a hint of what Bonnasaint was so carefully hiding. But the assassin was good at concealing things, and he did so successfully here.
Prue picked up the plate of food that she had left warming by the fire and walked over to where Bonnasaint sat watching. He gave her a smile, which she ignored, and said, almost cheerfully, “I was afraid you were going to let me starve.”
“No danger of that,” she replied, moving over to kneel beside him. “Just lean forward a little so that I can feed you. There’s ale, as well. Here, try this.”
She reached out with a spoonful of carrots and potatoes, and in the next instant his arms were around her neck and his fingers were folded across her face. Spoon and plate went flying as she was jerked about and captured in his embrace, arms pinned to her sides. She felt something warm and slick against her skin from where his hands gripped her face and saw patches of red on the sleeves of his tunic.
Blood.
He had rubbed so hard at his bonds that he had torn the skin around his wrists and used his own blood to slip the ropes that bound him.
Panterra was already on his feet and rushing to her aid when Bonnasaint shouted for him to stop. “Don’t come any closer, boy. If you do, I’ll pop her eyes right out of their sockets. I know how to do it; I’ve done it before. You might think you can stop me, but you’ll never reach me in time. How will you feel if that happens? How would you like it if she were real y blind? Throw down that staff.”
Through gaps in Bonnasaint’s fingers where they latticed over her face, Prue saw Pan hesitate. “Do it!” the other screamed. “How blind do you want her to be? More blind than she is? More than she pretends to be? Throw down the staff!”
Pan did as he was told and stood watching. “You don’t even have a weapon,” he pointed out. “You can’t get away.”
“I always have weapons—even if they are only the fingers on my hands. I warned you that this would end badly. Now you see. Drop your knives, as well. Then move off to one side.”
Some of Bonnasaint’s blood had leaked from his wrists and down Prue’s face, and she could taste it on her lips, bitter and metallic. She wanted to spit it out, to clean it away, but his fingers were stretched across her mouth. She tried struggling, but his hold on her tightened at once.
“Patience, little one,” he purred. “Be good, and I won’t harm either of you. I just want to get away. That’s all.”
She knew without having to think about it that he was lying. He had no intention of leaving them alive. That wasn’t who he was. Once he had them under his control, he would kill them both. He wouldn’t give it a second thought.
How could I have been so careless? How could I not have noticed that the bonds were loose on his wrists? Even my instincts weren’t enough to smel this out! She cursed herself for being such a fool, for leaving herself open to this sort of attack. She was supposed to be protecting Pan, but she couldn’t even seem to protect herself.
Bonnasaint lurched to his feet, hauling her up with him. “Now this is what’s going to happen,” he said to Panterra. “I’m going to leave and I’m taking her with me to make certain you don’t do anything foolish. Don’t try coming after me or you’ll find pieces of her scattered along the way. Just stay right here. I’ll let her go when I’ve gotten far enough away that I feel safe. She can walk back from there.”
He paused, and then added, “I’ll need to take your knives with me. You don’t mind, do you?”
Prue suddenly remembered her own knife, tucked in her belt just under the loose front of her tunic, down beneath where his arms encircled her. She moved her right hand experimentally—just a little—to feel the hilt beneath her fingers.
“I’m not letting you have a weapon,” Panterra said at once.
“You aren’t in a position to argue about it. Now, don’t move.”
Bonnasaint began working his way across the clearing toward the discarded knives, dragging Prue with him. The lurching movements allowed her to squirm and shift without drawing his attention. She worked her hand under her tunic front, and her fingers closed about the handle of her knife.
“I might have to take your staff, as well,” Bonnasaint added suddenly, flashing Panterra a grin. “Just to make certain you do what you’re told. I can leave it behind with the girl when I let her go.”
He wouldn’t do that, Prue thought. He wouldn’t leave anything behind but bodies, not once he had possession of Pan’s knives. He was saying one thing, but he was planning something else entirely. He wasn’t the kind to leave anything to chance. He had been sent to kill them, tried once already and failed. He would finish the job this time.
They were standing over Pan’s discarded weapons. “Just stay calm,” Bonnasaint was saying as he loosened his grip on Prue and reached down.
Prue closed her eyes. She had never used a knife on anyone. But she had to do this.