The Damsel and the Daggerman

.14.

The blade pounded into Jacinda’s belly, and she gasped and stumbled backward. She didn’t feel anything at first, just the impact of the throw. And she wasn’t willing to look down yet and see the damage, because as long as Petra was standing, so she would be standing.

Across the room, the slender girl twitched, her fingers clawing at the tufted dart embedded in her cheek. Jacinda felt a small point of pride; the dart’s poison would work even faster, considering the needle had pierced the girl’s mouth. Through saliva and blood, it would swiftly travel all through her body, rendering her paralyzed. Jacinda had picked up the unusual weapon and the skill to wield it in the jungles of Africa and kept it always on her wrist, well aware that most of Sangland’s inhabitants didn’t even know such a thing existed. Brutus was the muscle, but this tiny needle was the brains.

As Petra threw the dart to the ground, she tripped and fell on her side. Only then did Jacinda allow herself to look down at her belly and see the damage done by a spurned woman with wicked aim. But all she saw was a dented scar on her leather corset. Running her hands up and down, she realized that the knife must have struck her with the unsharpened side rather than the piercing tip. Thank heavens for small miscalculations. She exhaled in a rush and plucked the dull silver from the floor before rushing to the target and pulling the stocking from Marco’s mouth.

“Are you hurt?” he asked, breathless, and she could only shake her head no.

“You?”

“Yes. But I’ll live. Will she?”

Jacinda looked down at the girl’s form, still but for shallow breathing.

“There’s enough poison in that dart to take down a lion, so I don’t actually know what it’ll do to a person. The bludgazelle I shot with one never got up again. But she won’t be able to hold a knife for a long time, in any case.”

Petra’s eyes rolled to her, glazed and unfocused, and Jacinda stepped around her to untie the rope choking Marco’s neck. When she’d finished with his wrists and legs, she helped him step down and immediately checked the bloodstained places left on his body by Petra’s knife. She felt the tiniest shred of pity for the pathetic creature and her mad obsession but not enough to unleash her on the world again, no matter Marco’s pride.

“It’s not as bad as it was last time.” He put one hand to his side and pulled it away bloody. “She hasn’t been practicing.”

“I can’t believe you let her go, after that.”

He chuckled ruefully. “To be quite honest, I was in no shape to chase anyone. Just dragged my carcass off to heal. I never dreamed she would be so obsessed. I had no idea. If I had known she was following me, watching me. Watching us . . .” He shook his head, reached to squeeze her hand.

She squeezed back. “You did warn me that being a daggerman is a dangerous job.”

“So is being a daggerman’s lady,” he said with a smile somehow both grateful and mischievous. “Now, aren’t I late for a date in your conveyance?”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “You are. And as I tend your wounds, you’re going to tell me what it was like, losing your virginity this afternoon.”

He looked down, sheepish. “It was welcome. And way overdue. But I think you’ll be especially interested about what happens now. That’s the part you might regret.”