Page 34 of Bounty Hunter

“You need weapon training,” Ikar says bluntly, pulling my gaze from Rupi, as he pokes around the fire and sparks shoot up into the air.

“Easier said than done.” I shrug. I’m not offended, but it stings a bit. There are zero people who come to mind who could train me, and I can’t afford that type of thing with my pay anyway. But I’m not going to tell him that.

“If you insist on withholding my magic, you need to be able to protect yourself. You knowing how to use a weapon couldmean the difference between us surviving this journey and dying. We’ll start tomorrow.”

I think that’s a bit dramatic, but I withhold the snort laugh that almost escapes my nose. From the look on his face, he’s quite serious. Does he underestimate his own skill?

“Okay, but don’t kill me,” I say, then beneath my breath I mutter to myself, “Don’t know what good a few days of training’ll do anyway.”

“You’d be surprised what I can teach you in a short amount of time.” His eyes glint, and suddenly, I’m worried. Can’t wait for that training.Not.

I leave my warm spot by the fire, unroll my bed, and warily take a seat. I’m scared of sleep and the vulnerability it brings, so I resist laying down, knowing my eyes will shut as soon as I do. The stress of the day has sapped my energy. Ikar notices.

“I’ll keep watch,” he says in a way that I think is meant to comfort me. It works, even though nothing he says or does should make me feel safe.

I nod. “Wake me when it’s my turn.”

“Go to sleep.”

Him and his orders.If I weren’t so scared, I’d tell him not to boss me around. Even though it doesn’t look like it, I’m in charge here. I’ll continue to attempt to convince myself.

He sits nearby, his arms braced on his strong thighs, his sword in hand, watching the fire that burns lower and lower, highlighting the angles of his face with the flickering movements of glowing light and deep shadows.

He makes it easy for me to forget that I’ve forced him to protect me, that he doesn’t do it out of any kind of regard for me. The cuff on his wrist reminds him every day that if I die, his magic is gone—blocked forever. I want to punch my pack with frustration. I won’t, because I don’t need to look or feelany more ridiculous than I already have this entire arrest. Instead, I obediently lay down and pull my covers over half my face, just how I like it, and sulkily wonder why I had to arrest this tempting criminal of all criminals.

Just as I’m getting sleepy, he speaks again. “Feel inclined to remove this?”

I peek my head from beneath my blanket, and he lifts his left wrist where the charmed cuff sits. It slides down his arm a bit with the movement, “I could really use my magic right now.”

“Nice try,” I grumble, as I begin to burrow back beneath my blanket, but then I realize I don’t even know what magic he has. I snap the blanket down once more. “What magic do you have, anyway?” I tilt my head and narrow my eyes as I consider him.

“Doesn’t matter if you won’t remove the cuff.” He smirks because he assumes it will irritate me to high heaven now that I’ve asked and he won’t tell. I refuse to play his game, and instead of replying, I burrow back beneath the blanket for the third time. Feeling irritated that I’m irritated that I don’t know his magic. He’s a rogue. I’ll continue to assume he’s a hunter.

Sometime later, I’m awoken by steps near my head. Or is it over me? The fuzziness of sleep hangs in my mind as I sort through the sound. Doesn’t seem like something Ikar would do. An overly friendly animal offering me protection? It’s happened before. My eyes fall sleepily closed again, peaceful and feeling safe. Then I hear the deep cat-like growl. My eyes jerk open. Growing realization has me trapping a scream in my throat as I attempt to lay still. Not a friendly forest animal, then—the bantha.Over me?My first inclination is to pull magic,since the dark creature should run from my magic if I pull enough, but there’s not just myself to consider. If I pull magic and create an orb, I make Ikar the prey, just like what happened with the murk.

Instead, I very carefully scramble for my short sword within my blanket. Rupi shifts but seems to sense the need to stay quiet, because though she gets irritated when I disrupt her sleep, not a noise escapes her. She merely shuffles further into my bedroll when I pull the knife toward the opening, ever so slowly.

I hear a strange combination of leathery shifts and another, odd sort of growl. Worst-case scenario,check. I am currently beneath the paralyzing poison-fanged bantha, and I cannot use my usual defenses. Sweat begins to form along my body. My blankets now constricting and hot instead of cozy. Sword in hand, I attempt to tamp down the panic and slowly peek from the blanket. As expected, I get an eyeful of black fur. Dread curls in my stomach, and I die a little before my brain starts functioning. I slowly lower the blanket, hyperaware of the breathing belly a foot above my face.

“Don’t move,” Ikar states from somewhere. It sounds like he’s barely moving his lips.

Like I’m going to allow this perfect kill position to disappear? I’ll show him just how capable I am. I’ve got to redeem myself. But just as I’m about to force myself to slide the sword into its vulnerable underbelly, it powerfully pushes off its back legs and launches across the camp, straight toward Ikar.

I scream and scramble from my blanket as Ikar darts to the side, and the hideous bat-cat narrowly misses a large bite of his calf. Scrambling to my feet, I reposition my sword into a more comfortable grip and watch as they circle each other. Suddenly, the bantha growls and takes flight, disappearing intothe night sky with a powerful beat of its large wings, which I find is even more disconcerting than watching it face off with Ikar. Now that it’s above us, I have no idea what’s next or what direction to expect it from. Ikar holds out a hand, gesturing for me to stay where I am as he turns slowly, watching and listening.

Half a second later, it comes barreling out of the sky—a black streak of spinning silent fury—and bowls Ikar over from the side, taking him to the ground. My eyes widen in horror as they tumble together and come to a stop, the cat atop Ikar’s back. Almost faster than my eyes can track, a huge, clawed paw hooks into his upper back and drags down, and I watch in alarm as his armor parts easily with its force. At the same time, another claw hooks into the back of his thigh and Ikar yells out, thrusting an elbow back and catching the beast in the side of the head with the hilt of his sword, forcing it to release its hold. He rolls over, and with one expert swing of his sword, I watch with utter disgust as the head of the beast disconnects from its body, leaving a silvery, growing puddle of blood that soaks quickly into the earth.

I stand, jaw slack, at the fight I just witnessed. Shock fills my veins. I am honest with myself and readily acknowledge that my skills, size, and strength, are not in the same category as Ikar’s, and I would have died if not for him. For the second time, or is this the third? And he doesn’t even have access to magic. He’s facing me now, breathing heavily, one hand loosely on the hilt of one of his sheathed weapons and the blood drenched enchanted sword in the other as he catches his breath.

“You may thank your so-called powerful, violent, murderous criminal now.” A sardonic grin lifts one side of his lips.

He has a point, but I’m unwilling to admit it. “So youfinally admit you’re a criminal?” I ask, as my eyes swiftly scan over him. I don’t catch sight of any serious injury.

“I’m admitting nothing, only making a point.” He notices my concern and frowns, then looks down his arms and legs while holding out his hands, sword included. “I’m fine.”

Then he turns away to wipe the silvery blood off his sword, and my jaw drops when I see the damage that apparently he feels isfine. His armor is shredded, but it seems to have protected his skin. There’s only a small tear where one of the claws reached through to the fabric of his shirt, not even any blood. But I’m not worried about that. My eyes focus on only one thing. I suck in a breath and hold back a retch. Amidst three other deep gashes, a long, disgusting, claw protrudes from the back of his thigh.

When he stands from wiping his sword, he stumbles. I almost miss it, it’s so small, but it’s not like him. Paralyzing venom at work, I’m sure. Well, that, and the claw imbedded in his muscle. He stands still for a moment, facing away from me still, then slowly limps to a nearby tree and braces an arm against its bark covered trunk, resting against it.

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