Page 19 of Reckless
The guard all but growls at me, throwing his weight behind a stab intended to slash my ribs. The two quick breaths he always takes warn me of his swing before I see the flashing steel. I twist, grabbing his wrist before stepping behind him to roughly bend the arm against his opposite shoulder blade.
The dagger slips from between his sweaty fingers, stabbing the sand beneath us. He doesn’t scream until I grab his broken wrist with my free hand and squeeze, his severed bone jutting into my palm. The guard sinks to his knees, shaking violently as I slowly lower myself behind him, his hands still clasped between mine.
My lips nearly brush the shell of his ear as I murmur, “Who else knows about me?”
He thrashes against my hold, only earning him another twist of his broken wrist. He cries out before spitting his next words. “You’re a crazy bitch, you know that?”
“Yes,” I sigh, “I know that, and you know that. See, what I’m asking is if anyone else knows that.”
He huffs out a pained laugh. “Everyone knows you’re a crazy bitch. You have quite the reputation.”
I stiffen at his words. “What about Tando? Does Ilya have a price on my head in both cities?”
“As far as I know,” he breathes, a smirk hidden in his soft words, “even Izram has a poster of your face plastered on every surface.”
I scowl at the back of his head. Stowing away on a ship heading for Izram sounded far more appealing than trekking through the Scorches. And I would have done just that if it weren’t for the fact that it’s been years since anyone has journeyed across the Shallows’ treacherous waters. This is partly due to Ilya’s immense isolation from the other kingdoms, though the dozens of shipwrecks have further discouraged anyone from the perilous journey.
But none of that matters now, because it seems my reputation traveled to Izram before I could.
“Well,” I sigh, “let’s hear it. How much am I worth?”
The greed in his voice slips between his grinding teeth. “Twenty thousand silvers.”
I nearly choke on my laugh, my whispered words more to myself than the guard at my mercy. “Kitt wants me that badly, huh?”
“He does.” The guard’s voice is suddenly cold, calloused. “Dead or alive.”
And then the back of his skull collides with my nose.
I cry out, already feeling blood beginning to gush, the steady stream spilling into my mouth.
There are suddenly rough hands at my throat.
The guard throws me onto my back, his weight pressing down on me nearly as hard as his hands crushing my windpipe. Spots begin swimming in my vision, and I’m oddly grateful that I can barely see what it is I do next.
The blade slides easily into his heart.
He blinks above me, a look of disbelief painting the blank canvas that is his face, now completely drained of color.
The hands around my neck loosen and fall away, his body following. He slumps to the ground, clutching the fatal wound delivered by his very own weapon. He grunts, his final words a growl. “Crazy… bitch.”
I’m shaking.
The dagger slips from my hand despite being held between sticky fingers.
Sticky fingers.
I look down, taking in the blood coating my hands.
No, no, no…
The feel of it has me gagging, even with the lack of contents in my stomach. I crawl toward the guard, mumbling my apologies as I wipe blood from my palms with his already scarlet-stained shirt. Lifeless eyes look up at me while I can barely see through the tears in my own.
I stare at the young man as I stagger back, the heels of my palms sinking into the sand.
I killed him.
I killedagain.
