Vane's hand never reached her.
Kael moved between them at the last possible instant, his blade catching Vane's wrist and turning what should have been a capture into a shallow, glancing wound. Vane hissed, more surprised than hurt, and stumbled back a step, studying the blood welling along his forearm with something that looked almost like admiration.
"Still fast," he said. "I'll give you that much, Blackthorn."
"Get away from her." Kael's voice had dropped into a register Lyra hadn't heard from him before, something ancient and furious that made even the rogues nearby hesitate mid stride.
"You misunderstand me," Vane said, straightening, unbothered by the blood dripping from his wrist onto the courtyard stones. "I have no intention of harming her. I only want to talk. She, unlike you,
