Braids stood. He kicked the full bottle of Luster, sending it spinning into the darkness. The other men rushed over, their excitement like sparks in Perry’s nose. He’d figured he would end up brawling tonight. He knew how people reacted at the sight of him. What man wouldn’t stand taller after beating the spit out of someone like him?
Perry grabbed his knife and stood. “Let’s get to it. See what you can do. ”
Braids squared off, flashing a wicked piece of steel with serrated teeth. More a saw than a knife. He looked steady and moved smoothly, but his temper was streaked through with fear.
Perry grinned. “You changing your mind?”
Braids came at him like a shot. Perry felt the bite of the knife on his arm, but not the pain of the wound it opened. A solid wound. The blood that poured from it was dark in the Aether light. For a second, all he could do was watch his blood leak out of him. Run down his arm.
Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. Perry had never fought anyone drunk. He moved too slowly. His legs were too heavy. Maybe it had worked for his father because Perry had been a boy. How hard could it be to hit a kid who’d stood there, wanting it? Looking for anything he could to make things right?
He choked back a sudden rise of bile, realizing the choice he’d have to make if Braids managed to get a knife against his throat. Pledge fealty or die. An easy decision.
“You’re nothing like I’d heard,” Braids said. “Peregrine of the Tides. Twice Marked. ” He laughed. “You’re not worth the air you breathe. ”
Now was the time to shut him up. Perry spun the blade in his hand, almost dropping it. He made a move. A thrust that wasn’t nearly as fast as it should’ve been. He almost laughed. Knives had never been his weapon. The movement brought another wave of nausea, this one powerful enough to double him up.
Braids rushed him as he choked back the urge to vomit. He drove his knee into Perry’s face. Perry managed to turn his head. Took the brunt of the blow on the temple. He’d spared his nose, but he hit the ground hard. Saw the creep of darkness threatening to take him away.
The kicks kept coming, landing on his back and arms and head. They came from everywhere. Perry felt them dimly, shadows of pain. He didn’t stop Braids. This was the easy way. Staying down. Perry’s head rocked forward as a kick came from behind. The blackness came again, softening the edges of his vision. He willed it to come. Maybe it would make more sense if he felt on the surface as he did inside.
“You’re weak. ”
He was wrong. Perry wasn’t weak. That had never been the problem. The problem was that he couldn’t help them all. No matter what he did, people he loved would still suffer and die and leave. But Perry couldn’t do it. He couldn’t stay down. He didn’t know how to give up.
He swept his legs beneath him and sprang to his feet. Braids leaped back at his sudden movement, jumping out of the way, but Perry caught him by the collar. He yanked Braids toward him, the movement whipping his head backward. Perry jammed his elbow into his nose. Blood burst from his nostrils. Perry twisted the blade from Braids’s grip, dodging a punch and driving a fist into his stomach. Braids folded, dropping onto one knee. Perry wrapped an arm around his neck and wrestled him to the dirt.
Perry snatched up the serrated blade from the ground and laid it against the man’s throat. Braids stared up at him, blood pouring from his nose. Perry knew this was the moment he should demand an oath. Pledge to me or die.
He inhaled deeply. Braids’s temper was red fury, all directed at Perry. He’d never submit. Braids would choose death, just as he’d have done.
“You owe me a bottle of Luster,” Perry said.
Then he stood, reeling. The other men had gathered around. He breathed in their tempers, the scents both right and wrong. He looked for the next man who might challenge him. No one came forward.
A sudden twist in his gut had him vomiting right there in front of them. He held on to the knife in case any of them wanted to take a shot while he was heaving, like Braids had. They didn’t. Everything came up at once. He straightened.
“Probably don’t need any more Luster. ”
He tossed the knife aside and stumbled into the darkness. He didn’t know where he was going. It didn’t matter.
He wanted to hear her voice. He wanted to hear her tell him he was good. All he heard was the sound of his feet chasing the dark.
Morning came. His head felt like a door slammed closed on it, over and over. His body felt worse. Perry peeled off the shoddy dressing he’d tied around his arm. The cut was jagged and deep. Perry washed it, growing light-headed as it bled freshly.
He ripped a strip off his shirt and tried to bandage it again. His fingers were too shaky. Still too clumsy with drink. He lay back on the gravel and closed his eyes because it was too bright. Because darkness was better.
He woke to a tugging on his arm and shot upright. Braids crouched beside him. His nose was swollen, his eyes red with bruising. The other men stood behind him.
Perry looked down at his arm. The wound was well bandaged, tied off neatly.
“You didn’t ask me to pledge to you,” Braids said.
“You’d have said no. ”
Braids nodded once. “I would have. ” He took Talon’s knife from his belt and held it out. “I’m guessing you want this back. ”
Chapter 43