He howls in protest but keeps coming. His body slams into mine, sending me sprawling onto my back, the wind knocked out of me, my dagger flying from my grip.
A stabbing pain explodes in my thigh.
“You think you’ve saved him? That dumb kid won’t last a night out here alone,” he hisses.
“He might surprise you,” I push out through my agony. He surprised me, how convincingly he stood up there and lied to a crowd, to Lord Rengard, to me.
Not to Zander, though.
“I don’t care one way or another, now that I have you.” The male inhales. “Your Ybarisan blood doesn’t smell different.”
“There must be something wrong with you then. You should have that checked out by a doctor.”
His responding laugh is wicked. “You have a smart-mouthed answer for everything, don’t you?” He hauls himself up. “Let’s see how smart that mouth is when you’re on your knees in front of the king, begging for your—”
I see movement a second before a thump sounds and the male slumps to the ground beside me, unconscious. Pan hovers behind him, his chest heaving with adrenaline, his eyes wide, the wooden log gripped within his hands like a baseball bat.
“You were supposed to run.” But I’m so glad he didn’t.
“I told you, not without you.” He tosses his makeshift weapon away.
I try to pull myself up, but the pain in my thigh is unbearable.
“Oh.” Pan grimaces at where a branch on a fallen log has impaled my leg.
Our attacker won’t be unconscious forever, and we can’t get away with me anchored here.
“Okay, this is … not as bad as the daaknar’s claws,” I remind myself. Gritting my teeth, I yank my leg free. The resulting shot of pain has me leaning over and spilling the pretzel from my stomach onto the forest floor. Where previously plugged by the branch, blood now pours freely from the wound.
“Here.” Pan tears a strip of material from the poisoned man’s shirt and binds my leg. “That should work for now.” He hauls me to my feet. For a scrawny guy several inches shorter than me, he’s surprisingly strong.
The male lets out a feeble moan.
“Go, Pan. You can still get away.”
“So I can have that arrow in my arse? I told you, near you is the safest place.” He slips my arm over his shoulder. Together, we hobble into the trees.
Until I remember.
“My ring!”
“Is it really that important?”
“Yes! And my dagger. I can’t leave without them.” The unpleasant buzz has been drowned out by pain and panic, but it’ll return soon enough.
“Where are they?”
“The dagger is somewhere near where I fell. The ring is on his finger.”
Pan swallows, studying the body lying still by the fire. “You stay here. I’ll get them.” He guides me down to the ground and then sprints back, nimbly leaping over bushes and fallen logs.
He hunts for the dagger first, holding it up in the air as proof once he’s found it.
I wave for him to hurry.
He rushes over to the still form, priming the weapon for use if needed while he gingerly slips the ring off the male’s finger. The light from the bonfire catches the impish grin on his face.
I breathe a sigh of relief when he rushes this way. It only gets caught in my throat as a hand shoots out to grab hold of Pan’s ankle, sending him flying forward, sprawling onto his stomach.