Pulling the stolen dagger from her belt, she laid them side-by-side in the crammed chest. They were identical in every way, from the tip of the rippled blades to the etchings on the handles.
Vera paused, scrunching her forehead, and leaning her face closer. With a start, she realized the etchings were not the same at all. They both used the same script, but each looked to say something different.
Although she’d already begun to suspect the blade’s origin, seeing the identical weapons side by side confirmed it. She was fascinated and wished she had the time to sit and study them, but she’d have plenty of time later.
Sighing, she closed the lid. She was running out of time to wash up and prepare. She needed to use every minute wisely and decide on the best course of action for the night.
Lost in her thoughts, the sudden sensation of being snatched from behind had her screaming out. She was so caught off guard she could do nothing as she was slammed into a wall of her room.
Stars burst behind her eyes, and she felt the strong grip of fingers clasp around her throat. Struggling to clear her vision, she choked out a strangled breath and clawed at the hand.
Hot breath tickled her face and a deep menacing growl vibrated against her body. “Ku?ltha kpiybo, b’u mod.”
Hello again, little star.
His voice was somehow both gravelly and smooth, making the words sound almost sensual. She blinked a few more times, clearing the dots clinging to her sight and focused on the individual attached to the hand at her throat. He showed no visible signs of their skirmish, and his jaw was now lined with scruff, but it was the stranger.
He’d found her.
“Mbi mi tra thou.”
She blinked rapidly, trying to mentally translate, but he spoke too fast, and it’d been too long since she’d heard or used Thyabathi. She was more than a little rusty. “I don’t—I don’t understand.” She pushed the words out, struggling to speak past the pressure on her throat.
His eyes narrowed slightly, but to her relief, he switched to the common tongue. “You took something of mine. Shall I take something of yours in return? Your air maybe?”
He squeezed, causing her eyes to bulge and her lungs to burn. She thrashed in panic, scraping her fingernails down his arm to no avail. Oh gods, he was going to kill her. She’d been so stupid.
What did she think would happen? That’d he spare her life just because she’d spared his? She tried to think, to form even one coherent thought. She’d beaten him before; she could do it again.
Who was she kidding, no she couldn’t. As black spots again began to fill her vision, she realized she had no chance at all. If Vera was honest with herself, she’d had no chance the first time, just dumb luck. She was unarmed and completely at his mercy.
“I quite like this game. Shall we continue playing?”
She couldn’t speak even if she wanted to, and he knew it. She felt a single tear trail down her cheek. She’d never in her life felt so completely helpless.
His fingers abruptly relaxed and air violently rushed back into her lungs as she took huge, heaving breaths. His face leaned in close, and his rugged, earthy smell caressed her senses.
“I will have my dagger back. If you try to fight, you will lose, and I will make you beg me not to bury it in your heart.”
Gods, she didn’t want to beg him for anything, but she sure as hell didn’t want to die here in this room. She shook her head back and forth—as much as she could with his hand still in place—trying to clear her panicked thoughts.
“Pha?” He practically flung the word at her, and she realized he had misinterpreted her action as a refusal. “You value your life so little? I would step over your corpse and retrieve it. Your denial is stupid, not courageous,” he spit.
She took a shaky breath as her heart continued hammering against her ribcage. She would be brave. She could do this. Elric’s lessons echoed in the back of her head like a mantra.
Fear is a flame. It cannot be extinguished by will alone. You can let it burn you alive, or you can do something with it. Alter it, bend it to your will, forge it into a weapon.
She looked directly into his eyes. “I could have killed you, yet I only disarmed you and let you live. You owe me a life debt.” Her breathing was still ragged, and her voice came out raspy and hoarse.
She saw surprise and something akin to admiration flicker across his face, but it was so fleeting she was certain she’d imagined it.
“I don’t owe you a thing, duwabi. Whether I allow you to live or not is still undecided, but I will take back what is mine either way.”
Vera nodded. She might have been drawn to the beautiful blade, but she wasn’t stupid enough to value it over her life. A life that, quite literally, rested in his hand. Still drawing from the tiny reserve of bravado she had, she tapped his arm, indicating he needed to release her.
He smirked. Lifting his fingers one digit at a time, he slowly removed his grip from her throat. He took a small, calculated step back, but those green eyes never left hers. She wasn’t naive enough to run. His posture and arrogant expression screamed it’s what he expected, and he was more than prepared to give chase.
Vera eyed him warily before finally daring to look away. She crossed the few steps it took to reach the chest and tried not to completely put her back to him while she leaned down.
She grabbed the edge of the lid but froze when she sensed the heat from his body directly behind her. She hadn’t even heard him move. Trying—and failing—to ignore his presence, she continued. The silence was so heavy, she swore it was practically its own entity.
The creak of the lid echoed out painfully as she raised it. She paused again, eyeing the spot where the blades were hidden beneath her clothes. She knew which one was hers of course, as it was safely in its sheath, but a question bubbled up the back of her burning throat.
“Are all Bhasurian blades designed this way?”
She sensed him stiffen behind her, but he didn’t immediately answer. It’d been worth a shot.
“Pha. Mine was crafted specifically for me.”
He spoke possessively, like the dagger was an extension of himself rather than a weapon. She wasn’t sure what was more surprising, that he’d answered, or that he’d lied.
Or perhaps it was that someone else had lied to him. Vera’s curiosity overpowered her common sense, so like always when that happened, she did something stupid.
“Interesting.” She slipped her fingers under the clothing and unsheathed her dagger. Grabbing the other, she stood and gradually turned to face him, holding both out on her palms as unthreateningly as possible.
“Sorry, but I’m not sure I remember which one was yours.”