The blade slid through the air with the grace of a whisper, clean and practiced. Peri's body moved before thought could catch up — pivoting, thrusting, dodging — as if his muscles remembered something his mind had never been taught.
Another bandit fell back with a cry, clutching his side.
Peri's chest rose and fell with exertion, sweat already dampening the collar of his shirt. The rapier felt natural in his hand, familiar. Comforting.
Thank the gods for that, Nihil thought. I didn't sign up for hand-to-hand combat, but at least this body's got instincts.
Behind him, the wagon rattled with Amalia's shallow breaths. She hadn't screamed — not really — but the ragged gasps spoke volumes. He didn't need to look to know she was caving in. Too much noise. Too many footsteps. Too much memory.
Peri tightened his grip on the hilt.
There were supposed to be three of them. A shield, a sword, and a balm.
But Jeremy was still missing. Probably held up by that damned count household, like he'd told Amalia the night before — an odd detail that slipped from Peri's mouth before he'd even realized it. Like something tucked into the skin of this world.
A strike came for his side. Peri twisted, deflecting with a sharp clang before slicing down low, carving across an attacker's thigh. The man crumpled with a grunt.
Another rushed in. Peri met him head-on, blade catching just beneath the ribs — not a killing blow, but enough to end the fight.
Still more came. Where the hell were they coming from?
A sound from behind — not a scream, just a sharp inhale.
Peri spared a glance. Amalia sat frozen in the wagon, pale, her knuckles white as they gripped the wooden edge. Her lips moved, but no words came. She wasn't breathing right. Her eyes were glassy and locked wide open.
Panic attack, Nihil realized. Shit.
And of course, Jeremy — the balm, the heart, the soft-toucher — wasn't here.
That left Peri.
"Amalia!" he called out, slicing through a bandit's shoulder as he turned his head. "I know it's hard right now. Just listen to my voice, okay? I've got you!"
No answer.
"Focus on the sound. In and out. Inhale... exhale. You're not back there, you're here."
Another bandit tried to climb the wagon's side. Peri stabbed fast — almost instinctively — and knocked the man to the ground with a grunt.
The wagon trembled from the impact. Amalia flinched, curling in on herself.
"I'm not letting them touch you," Peri said, panting, planting himself between her and the chaos. "You're not alone. I'm here."
His voice cracked near the end. He wasn't even sure if the words helped. They felt hollow coming out of his mouth, like lines from a play he wasn't cast for.
But she heard him. Her eyes darted toward him — just for a second — and her grip loosened a little.
There was something familiar in her expression. Not from this world, but from Nihil's. That unsteady mix of fear and shame and vulnerability — like someone desperate not to be a burden.
She's scared, Nihil thought. And she's used to not being believed when she says she is.
He fought harder.
With each clash, Peri's movements grew more fluid, more sure. There was power in precision. One by one, the bandits fell or fled — unwilling to face a man who refused to fall, whose eyes burned with the promise that he would not let them reach the girl behind him.
Soon, it was over.
Peri stood among the groaning bodies, his breath ragged, blood dripping from the edge of his blade.
He turned back to the wagon.
Amalia was shaking, still curled up, but she was watching him now. Really watching.
Peri dropped his sword arm and walked over slowly, crouching beside her without touching.
"Hey," he said, softly now. "It's over."
She nodded. One shaky breath in. One out. Her shoulders began to unclench.
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
"No," Peri said firmly. "You don't need to be sorry. You didn't do anything wrong."
"I was supposed to help—"
"You did. You stayed. That's enough."
Her eyes widened slightly. Maybe no one had ever told her that before.
Peri offered the smallest smile. "I'll keep you safe until Jeremy shows up. I promise."
She blinked at him. "How do you know he'll come?"
Peri hesitated. His mind stuttered — not out of doubt, but because the words came too easily.
"He's probably still caught up with the count," he said. "He always shows up late when nobility gets involved."
Amalia stared at him. "How do you know that?"
Peri blinked, surprised at himself. "I... don't. It just came to me."
Her brows knitted together like she was trying to work through a puzzle. He gave a small shrug and offered a hand to help her down.
She took it.