Page 111 of A Thief to Die For

‘Of course he was,’ Samuel mutters dryly.

‘The guards are going to make their move soon, so what’s it going to be?’ I ask, urgency blistering under my skin. ‘Run, or die behind this trailer?’ I know my choice, but I won’t make theirs for them.

All I hear is Samuel breathing hard behind me. He may be cranky as hell, but he’s fiercely loyal and protective to a fault. He’d never let us die without a fight. ‘Okay,’ he finally agrees. ‘We run and head east. Round up horses and regroup.’

‘Fine,’ I say, since that’s the best route. ‘But then we work our way to the north side where I last saw Marian and Agatha. And if I don’t make it, you find them. Get them out of here.’

I glance at Levi. He looks less sure and a lot more nervous. I clap a hand on his shoulder. ‘You good?’

‘Probably shouldn’t admit this, but you know how goats do that screaming thing?’ He nods. ‘That’s the sound playing in my head.’

I crack a smile. ‘What a way to break you into being an elite guard.’

Samuel turns to look at me, his expression dark. ‘No.’

‘No what?’ I ask, startled.

‘No, we’re not getting Marian and Agatha for you if you die. So don’t die. You damn well better liv–’

A piercing sound starts from somewhere behind us, and we all raise our weapons. It occurs to me that it’s a battle cry, as a man on a horse bursts from the trees and gallops at full speed straight for us.

‘That’s Lucky,’ I say with disbelief.

Levi angles closer. ‘What the hellfire is he doing? He’s not even armed.’

Or slowing down. ‘It’s a diversion,’ I say, amazed.

Lucky speeds past us, cutting through the circle of wagons, drawing everyone’s attention.

‘Go, go, go!’ I urge, and we all spring up from our hiding place.

But Lucky’s voice cuts off as he’s shot with an arrow. He bends over, clutching his thigh, then tumbles awkwardly from his horse, hitting the ground hard.

Samuel grabs my shirt and hauls me back behind the wagon for cover.

The whole place goes silent as Lucky lies sprawled out in the open. It wasn’t a killing shot, the fall was nasty, and he’s lying dead still.

Come on, wake up.

Suddenly, he takes a loud, gasping breath.

My shoulders fall in relief.

‘That really hurt, you arseholes,’ Lucky yells.

The man has the survival instincts of a napkin. Shut up, Lucky.

We wait for more arrows to fly. Instead, somebody snickers.

‘I bet it did,’ says a militia guard. A bunch more laugh.

With a guttural moan, Lucky attempts to sit up. He seems stunned by the arrow protruding from his thigh and he balks. ‘I can’t believe you guys shot me,’ he cries. ‘I’m not even armed.’ He starts spiralling, his chest heaving. ‘You know this is going to get infected. I’m probably going to die.’

‘Oh, you’re fine,’ snaps a deep voice. Another guardsman. ‘Just pull the arrow and stand up.’

Lucky sniffs, then with a whimper, he grasps the shaft of the arrow. ‘I just want you guys to know I also hurt my head when I fell.’

‘Something else is going to hurt if you don’t hurry up.’