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Aria yanked her arm, but the man’s hold was too tight. The malnourished and weakened state of this human body provided no hope of a positive ending. Not when the man gazing at the bracelet like he’d found a treasure chest of gold twisted her hand in search of the clasp that would free the priceless object. Sadly, it was a cursed bracelet. No clasp. They’d have to cut off her hand to get it. She doubted that would stop them.

“A hot meal and a warm woman,” the man holding her shoulders said, then snickered. “I’d take this one, but she’s cold, even through the cloak.” A sharp sniff alongside her hood made her cringe. “And in need of a bath. Precious, would you take that off your little wrist? It really doesn’t belong there.”

Aria tried to twist free again, but the men’s holds only strengthened. Other outcasts in the alley had stepped away to watch the display from a safe distance. She knew from her last jaunt in Alamari that those less fortunate souls kept their heads down in situations like this. Self-preservation, or some such nonsense. Humans didn’t lend aid if it might cause them harm, too, even if they had nothing to lose.

“She don’t speak English, huh?” the wrist-holder taunted, lifting malice-filled eyes to the shadow that hid her face beneath the hood. His lips stretched in a brutal smile with missing or rotted teeth. Sores dotted his lips and oozing wounds pocked his cheeks. “Girl, you don’t take it off, we’ll take it off for you.” He pulled out a stained blade and held it up for her to see. “However we have to get it off.”

Aria hissed, twisting violently beneath the hands clamped down on her shoulders. She managed to free herself, but the ghastly man with the knife dug his fingers into her wrist and jerked her closer.

“Let go!” she shrieked, pulling at her arm while dancing around, trying to keep out of the other man’s grip. He came up behind her again, snagged her about the waist, and lifted her off her feet. “Stop! Put me down!”

“Sure. Just one moment.” The knife wielder gave her his back as he tucked her arm under his own, trapping it against his body. She kicked at his legs and hips, prepared to scream in agony when the rusted metal blade touched her forearm.

“Pardon my interruption, gentlemen, but I do believe such atrocious actions are punishable by death, should the king hear of them. He prefers to reserve such pleasures for himself.”

Aria gasped at the sound of the familiar voice, jerking her head around.

The arms holding her waist disappeared, as did the knife from her skin.

Caspian caught her beneath her arms, keeping her from a less than elegant fall on her ass. His easy smile hid the glint of anger in his expression from anyone who didn’t know what to look for. He settled her on her feet and swung a black walking stick with an intricately carved silver pommel with seeming negligence.

The two men backed away slowly, the knife-wielder having dropped the blade. The onlookers sunk deeper into the shadows of the alley, clearly hoping to escape Caspian’s sharp gaze.

“Gentlemen, I hope this was a mere misunderstanding on my part,” he told the receding men.

The brute who had picked Aria up nodded furiously, but didn’t speak.

“Y-yes, s-sir. All a mis-mis-mis…” the knife-wielder stuttered.

Caspian inclined his head, prompting, “Misunderstanding?”

The man muttered a squeak, followed by a quick nod.

Caspian glanced down at Aria. “These two men weren’t about to cut off your hand, were they?”

She blinked. How much had he seen? And how on this blasted Earth had he known where to find her?

His eyes narrowed so slightly she wasn’t certain she caught the gesture.

A loud tap resounded from the buildings that lined the alley as he knocked the tip of his walking stick against the ground. Slowly, he tilted his head back to eye the men.

She followed his gaze and suppressed the urge to slap a hand over her mouth when a stream of alley rats scurried from the shadows and crevices to swarm over her assailants’ legs. They screeched and shrieked, flinging themselves backwards.

One slammed into a barrel, knocking the fire-filled canister over. A lick of flame caught the edge of his tattered shirt and quickly engulfed his body until he was a howling, writhing heap. The second man bolted down the alley, but only made it a few feet before the rats tripped him, and he pitched forward. The rodents covered him.

“Hmm.” Caspian shrugged. He pressed a hand to Aria’s back and guided her around the fallen men, away from the sight that elicited shocked gasps and screams from onlookers and the men alike. “Due justice.”

Aria waited until they were moving through the throngs of pedestrians before she stopped. Caspian cast her a chiding glance and continued on his way without waiting.

“What did you do?” she demanded, earning quirked brows from a few passersby. With a huff, she hurried to catch up with him, grabbing his arm. “How did you know I was there?”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” He flashed her a grin. “I was on my way to find some pleasurable entertainment when I heard what I believed to be a damsel’s cry of need.”

She threw a hand towards the alley. “I don’t see anyone helping those men in distress, and their howls are far more terrorized than mine.”

“Well”—Caspian angled the orb of his stick over his shoulder—“you can always return, if my interference was not welcome.” He paused long enough to tap a yellowed sign pinned to the outside wall of a shop. She didn’t need a closer look to know it was a reward post for merfolk. They remained scattered throughout the town, a decade after the king’s mer-hunt began. “Still a hot commodity around these parts, though rumor has it they’ve become awfully scarce to the point people believe most have been killed off.”

The dark curl of his lips was crafted perfectly to match the malice exuded by the villagers, but the shadows that filled his eyes when he cut his gaze to hers were anything but malicious. If she dared to believe this new Caspian might actually care, she’d suspect pity edged his smile.