Midnight Jewel (The Glittering Court #2)(66)

He groaned as I stormed to the door. “Mirabel, no. It’s not like that at all.”

I spun around and met his eyes unblinkingly. “Then help me out, Grant. Tell me what it’s like.”

He seemed to sag a little. “It’s hard to . . . Look, I just can’t explain it right now. I don’t have the words.”

“I guess there’s a first time for everything.” I yanked the door open.

“Mirabel—”

“Don’t come with me. I don’t want anything from you anymore.”

I slammed the door and didn’t look back.





CHAPTER 17


I STOOD OUTSIDE THE DOOR FOR SEVERAL MOMENTS, taking deep breaths of the crisp night air. Fury and heartache warred with the ache of unfulfilled lust. Even in the cold, I still felt flushed remembering what we’d done. If Grant had suddenly burst out and tried to take me back to bed, I might very well have let him—and that made me madder.

What had happened?

I turned that question over and over in my brain as I descended the stairs, trying to understand. Had it all fallen apart because I’d remarked on the scar? I knew he was guarded when it came to discussing his past, but had one small inquiry irritated him enough to halt something he very obviously wanted? Or had I just killed the mood by asking? How would I know? I had no idea what I was doing. And maybe that was the problem. Maybe I’d been a disappointment.

I forced myself to put one foot in front of the other. Tears driven by any number of emotions brimmed in my eyes, and the colorful nightlife that usually fascinated me suddenly seemed grating. I took a roundabout path through the lively entertainment district, choosing quieter streets that still kept the safety of public areas in sight.

I wanted my bed. I wanted to close my eyes to darkness and forget this night. I wanted to forget that I’d just tried to give myself to a man—and that I’d been lacking. I’d thought I was bold and alluring, but I was only a girl playing at being a woman.

A cry from the darkness jerked me from my maudlin thoughts. I stopped and spun around. The sound had come from an alley between large tenement buildings, maybe two blocks away. It was where the streets spread out from downtown and turned more residential, with fewer lights and no meandering crowds. In fact, I couldn’t see anyone over there at all. The shadows filling the alley gave up no secrets, and I wavered on whether to turn off to investigate. It would mean moving farther away from the safety of the public areas. The cry—a woman’s—sounded again. I remembered the stories I’d heard of the militia’s haphazard protection of the city. How many out there were helpless? How many felt as though no one could save them?

I made my decision.

I slinked toward the alley and used the shadows for my own cover. When I reached the entrance, a dull streetlamp cast flickering light upon a group of men fighting. Closer scrutiny revealed that three of them had ganged up on one. Unfair odds. And I didn’t see a woman anywhere.

After a little more assessment, I realized that the single man was actually doing an amazing job at holding off the others. Maybe it was more of a fair fight than it seemed. But it triggered too many memories of the past, of gangs attacking those they outnumbered, to rob or do worse. That type of crime had occurred nightly in Osfro and was what Lonzo and I used to seek out. I started to charge forward with my knife until I realized how truly pathetic it was. Searching around, I spied a pile of discarded wood and other debris lying nearby. I grabbed a board, about the length of my forearm, that looked like it hadn’t rotted yet.

The lone fighter was in a standoff with two of the men while the third attempted to come in from the side. I sneaked up behind him and slammed the board into his back as hard as I could, knocking him to his knees. The unexpected attack made his two companions falter, giving their victim an opportunity to punch one in the jaw. Before any retaliation could take place, the lone man deftly rolled across the ground and sprang neatly to his feet on the alley’s far side. As he did, he scooped up a sword lying nearby and pointed it at the others.

The man I’d hit staggered upright and turned toward me, but the swordsman moved faster. He leapt over to us, jabbing his blade into my assailant’s shoulder with practiced ease. The man screamed and fell again. Without pause, the sword-wielder moved on to his next adversary, knocking that one down with a blow to the head.

“Want to try your luck?” he asked the third.

That man spoke boldly but backed away nonetheless. “Your crew cheated our boss! Your man had no right to swipe that shipment out from under us.”

“Your boss has cheated us plenty of times,” the swordsman replied amiably. “And if he had any honor, he wouldn’t have ordered an attack like this. Now get out of here while we’re all still friends.” He glanced between his former assailants. They’d all managed to stand again but hadn’t retreated. “And we are all still friends, right?” That amiable voice had an edge to it, as sharp and deadly as the sword he held.

“Yeah, we’re still friends,” said the one I’d hit, not sounding friendly at all. “Come on.” He beckoned to his comrades, and they slowly walked away, but not without several backward glances.

When they’d disappeared from sight, the swordsman said, “It’s safe now.”

I thought he was talking to me until I heard a stirring behind another pile of trash. A woman rose, holding a small child wrapped in blankets to her. “Thank you, Tom. Thank you so much.”