A Girl Named Calamity (Alyria 1)

CHAPTER TWELVE

DOUBLE REALITY CHECK

My hands shook as I washed the blood off my body in the stream. A part of me hated Weston for how he used me. Another was grateful that those men couldn’t harm any other women. The last part of me was disgusted by my weakness.

I had no chance. None.

It showed me exactly what would happen to me out here if I were alone. A couple more seconds and the fortune teller would have been right.

“I want you to teach me how to fight,” I said as I turned around. There was still a red cloud over my mind and if he refused, I would kill him.

“No.”

I grabbed my knife out of the sheath and threw it at him. He stepped to the side and dodged it with an amused look. I looked for something else to throw, but there wasn’t anything but a small stick. And I didn’t want to look that pathetic.

“I need to learn! Especially if you’re my escort. Who knows what will happen to me?”

He narrowed his eyes. “Have I let anything happen to you? Have you been raped? Murdered? I don’t think you’ve even been scratched.”

“I have a bruise on my tailbone from being pulled off the bed this morning, and my wrist is sore from an Untouchable twisting it while I tried to fight him off alone. So yes, I would say you let something happen to me.” When he didn’t say anything, I added, “You owe it to me after you almost got me killed.”

“I owe you nothing,” he growled, and I

realized it was the wrong thing to say.

I tried again. “I wouldn’t need you to save me all the time if you just taught me some things.”

He was still for a moment, his face unreadable. When I thought he was going to refuse again, he grabbed the knife off the ground. “Your throw was embarrassing,” he said as he handed it to me. “You can either throw it by the handle or the blade. You want to throw this one by the handle.” My hopes rose when I realized he was giving in. “Wrap your hand around the knife and leave your thumb against the spine.”

I did what he said.

“Like this?” I asked.

He adjusted my grip, and I noticed the drying blood on his arms and hands. How did I end up here? In the desert while a bloody assassin taught me how to throw a knife?

“Take a relaxed stance and envision the knife sticking into the tree. Try it.”

I did what he told me and threw the knife. It bounced off the tree and hit the ground.

“You snapped your wrist,” he said as he headed over to get the knife.

“No, I didn’t,” I replied, my blood not yet cooled from the incident. And filled with frustration that I was elated he would teach me. He had almost gotten me killed, and yet he was essential for me getting to Undaley.

“You want me to teach you?” he snapped, and I bobbed my head. “Then quit being a brat and listen to me,” he growled. He had me practice it a few times, and when the knife stuck in the tree, excitement bloomed in my stomach. Maybe I could learn enough from the assassin to be able to travel alone if he decided to use me as bait again.

I stepped around the dead Untouchables, being careful not even to touch their white-clad bodies. “Where do these Untouchables live?” I asked as I mounted Gallant.

“They are raiders. They don’t settle anywhere specific.”

When we headed out again, I searched the land, not trusting Weston anymore. Although, I didn’t think I could have ever sensed something as far away as he did. I asked him how he could, but he only gave me that look that said, You’re annoying me.

My Sylvian shirt was covered in blood and dust, but I didn’t change it. It would have been too hot to wear anything else. My mind kept wandering back to what had happened, and it made my skin flush with an angry heat every time I thought of it.

“Don’t ever do that again,” I said.

He glanced at me but didn’t give me an ounce of assurance. The thought that it might be more dangerous being with him than being on my own popped into my head.

When he scoffed in disbelief, I knew he could read my mind.