Sweet Peril (The Sweet Trilogy #2)(21)

Zania lived down a narrow, cobbled road with dry paths between the two-story luxury houses. I looked up at the balconies with beautiful ironwork jutting out over the walkway. Doors and windows were made of dark oiled wood. As I neared the very last house on the left, my stomach tightened. I stopped next door to it and shot my hearing into Zania’s house, scouring each room, but finding nothing. I knocked on the door, peeking over my shoulder at Kope who was several houses back, seeming inconspicuous as he bent to tie his shoelaces.

After several minutes of no answer, I walked around the corner to the side of Zania’s house, which was next to some sort of store. It must have been closed because there was nobody in sight down the narrow alley. Maybe Zania was out shopping at one of the souks. I absently looked into one of her windows, wondering how long we should wait for her to come home. A shadow passed my reflection in the glass, and I was wrenched backward from behind, feeling a distinct, cold sting at my throat. Other than an involuntary gasp of shock and my galloping heart rate, I didn’t move or make a sound.

A fierce female voice said something to me in Arabic, and she tightened her grip around my shoulders. Nice to meet you, too, Zania. I knew how to fight my way out of this hold, but I wanted to be peaceful with her. I wished I could look at her, but she had me facing the cement wall.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, trying not to move my jaw. “No Arabic.”

“Who sent you?” she demanded in thick English. The sharp point jabbed harder and I winced as I felt it cut into my flesh.

“I’m not—”

A scuffle of sound cut me off, and her arms were gone. A metallic ping rang out as her knife hit the stone pavement. I spun around to see Kope holding a tall, thin young woman—one arm around her midsection, pinning her arms at her side, and the other over her mouth. A black head scarf with red flowers had slid back during the fray and her dark hair fell around her face. She struggled against him, but he held tight. I put my palms up and looked into her round, deep-brown eyes. She appeared to be in pain, and I cast a worried glance at Kope.

“I am not hurting her,” he assured me. “She is afraid.”

Petrified was more like it.

“Zania,” I said, “please don’t be scared of us. I’m Anna, and this is Kopano. We’re not going to hurt you. We came to talk to you because we know Sonellion is gone, and he has no idea we’re here. You’re safe with us. I have important things to tell you. Will you be calm if Kopano lets you go?”

Her response was an obvious no as Kope let out a small holler and jerked his hand away from her teeth. He still held her tight, even as she let out a string of vicious words in Arabic, ending with “Go to hell!” in English. This was going to be harder than I thought. I bent down and picked up the knife.

“Listen to me, Zania, please. I know you feel threatened, so I’m going to put this knife back into your hand and Kopano is going to release you. I want you to have the means to protect yourself. But I am unarmed. I promise you. We only want to talk. We’re like you. We have no loyalties to the Dukes.” In truth, I carried the hilt as a weapon, but it could only be wielded against demons.

Zania breathed heavily through her nose as I slowly took the step forward and slipped the knife into her hand. An awful thought crossed my mind and I squeezed my hand over her fist.

“Do not try to hurt Kopano when he lets you go, or you and I are going to have a problem. He’s a good man.”

“There is no such thing as a good man,” she snarled.

“Yes, there is. And you’ll see for yourself if you give him a chance.”

“Tell this good man of yours to release me with my back to the street.”

“Okay, but don’t run away.” I let my desperation for her cooperation show as I stayed close for a few more seconds. I took my hand off hers and stepped back, nodding at Kope. He turned her and let her go, stepping swiftly back, next to me. Zania spun and faced us in a slight crouch, eyes skittering as if expecting our malicious intent to come out now. Her head scarf was dangling like a hood, and she ripped it from her neck, throwing it to the ground. She looked like a warrior princess. Kope cleared his throat.

“Perhaps my presence is a hindrance.”

Good point. She definitely had issues with males. I nodded my agreement, still watching Zania, but her eyes were on him. He took a careful step forward and she jutted the knife out.

“I must pass you, Zania,” he said in a silky, deep voice. “I will keep to the wall.”

They sidestepped along their own wall with few precious feet of separation, eyeing each other. She followed his every move until he passed her and was out of sight. Keeping her back to the wall, she turned her head toward me.

“I am no fool. I know he stays near.”

“Yes, you’re right. He’s my friend and he wants me to be safe. But he won’t interfere now unless you hurt me.”

Speaking of that, I lifted my hand to the spot under my chin. It was still wet and sensitive but healing fast. Adrenaline kept me from feeling anything. I looked down at the spots of blood on my shirt. That was probably going to get me some unwanted attention during the walk back to the hotel.

“I might need to borrow a shirt,” I said, chancing a small smile. “Should we talk here, or do you want to go somewhere else?”

Her breathing had finally slowed, but she still watched me warily.