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Dust kicked up around his boots as he landed next to her. His hair was a wild windblown mess and his cheeks were flushed, but he smiled at her. “Let’s get on to my father’s accommodations. First thing, first, a very large meal. I’m starving.” He held out his cloth-bound hand.
She took it.
Remis
As it turned out, his father had procured him a small town home. It was nestled tightly between two other nearly identical buildings, all made of dark red brick with white shutters. The key to the door had been left for him in a dark box that was covered in a thin layer of dirt behind the shrubs planted under the two large windows.
Meira kept shifting her weight behind him as he slid the key into the lock. Was she nervous? He offered an easy smile as the door opened without a sound. The air inside was chilly and they’d need to get a fire started but it was a luxury compared to where he’d spent the last several nights before.
He stepped inside. “I’ll start a fir—” Movement in the darkness cut toward him and he jerked himself back in time for a blade to slide across his cheek. Skin split and warm blood trickled into the hair on his chin. His hand was already on his sword but the attacker was still in motion already coming around for another swing of a dagger.
Steel met steel, Meira’s sword catching the blade before it could meet Remis with another attempt. It gave him time to free his blade and run it through whoever stood before them. The body went limp. The dagger clattered to the floor at their feet as the attacker fell against him. Remis stepped aside. He and Meira let the body fall onto the front steps, moonlight revealing a stranger's face.
“And do you know who this is?” Meira raised a brow.
“Not at all.” He touched his cheek. Growled at his bloody fingers. They must have overestimated his height. If they’d been just a bit lower they would have cut open his throat.
The leather of her outfit creaked as she squatted down and examined the body. Blood was already dripping down into the steps and out onto the walkway. Not quite the welcome to Croughton he’d been hoping for.
Meira picked up the fallen dagger, examined it, and used the blade to part the man's lips before peering into his mouth. She shrugged. “It seems lots of people want you dead, Remis.” She sighed. “He’s an assassin, likely. They’re always so poorly trained.” With a roll of her pretty green eyes, she stood up. “Men somehow always think themselves capable of anything without any actual evidence to back them up. Poor fool.”
“You say that so generally.” He cocked his head, watching her. “You can’t mean all men.”
“Most men. Probably yourself included,” she said with a small smirk. “If a snake bites you, you become wary of all snakes.” She finished as if that made it clear enough. Perhaps it did.
He nodded and pointed down at the still-bleeding body. “And what do we do with that.”
“Well, you can report him to the authorities or if this place has a back entrance you could probably toss the body out that way. They’re likely to assume the man was robbed and cart him off for us.”
The utterly casual way they discussed doing away with a dead body had his stomach knotting up. She was a scale rider. She was a witch. She knew death better than most. And if the fight for Elton Hamza’s business was worth killing each other for then Remis would soon be well acquainted with death too.
“I’ll drag him out back then.”
“I’ll make sure there aren’t any more assassins lurking.”
Remis watched as she strolled into the dark home, her sword dragging against the floor behind her. She began humming as she went and her tune grew distant the further she went. He frowned at the man and at the blood. He’d have to clean that up too. Or the local authorities would be knocking come morning.
Ignoring the exhaustion that wanted to pull him into sleep, he tucked his arms underneath the assassin’s and grunted as he dragged his body through the hall. Blood trailed behind them. He was thankful though that the assassin wasn’t a particularly large man. The stranger was pale-skinned with muddy brown hair, tall, but incredibly lean—almost malnourished. He could have been someone just trying to get himself out of debt with a job that paid well for all Remis knew.
By the time he’d left the body in the back alleyway several houses down and returned to the house the trail of blood he’d left had disappeared. Standing in the rocks, he turned once then twice looking for the proof that he’d just brought a dead body through the yard. He scratched at his head and went inside to find Meira crouched down in front of the lit hearth.
She straightened when he entered and turned to look at him. “Rest of the house is clear.”
A sort of peace settled over him knowing that he wasn’t in for any more surprises. Or so he hoped. He motioned toward the fire behind her. “The blood’s gone. And you managed a fire quite quickly.” A statement, but really an unspoken question.
One by one, she pulled at the fingertips of her glove. Lifting her bare hand, she let the smallest flame balance in her palm. It illuminated her face before she made a fist and the light went out. “I’m rusty from years without use but…magic. It’s good for me to practice again.” The half tilt of her mouth suggested that it was painfully obvious what she’d done.
This woman, backlit by the flames, was his saving grace and ultimately his demise. He was drawn to her, drawn to that madness she’d pointed out. There was a lustful attraction and then there was this.
Remis leaned himself against the arching doorway. “You’ve saved my ass a couple of times now and I’m realizing that I didn’t even thank you.”
“Well, thank away.” She folded her arms over her chest.
“Thank you, Meira Eve Spektor, for saving my life.” He held her steady gaze.
Her laugh was a beautiful note that echoed throughout the room. “Is this more of the charm meant to persuade me from killing you? I think you could do better than this.” Each step she took toward him sent his heart pounding faster until she was directly in front of him and stealing away his breath. He swallowed and she watched the bob of his throat like she knew just how flustered she could make him.
Keeping his arm balanced against the doorframe, he leaned down into her, letting himself hover close enough that their lips might brush. “Maybe I'll show you how thankful I am.”
