But I had my hands around her neck. And below my fingers, her pulse was unmistakable. ‘My body!’ one of the Mother’s voices cried out above me, voice ragged with hysteria. ‘My body!’ I rolled over, just in time to see the flash of white as she dove at me – colliding midway with the silvery streak of a throwing knife. Creon. A shrill laugh escaped me as I forced myself upright, hauling Melinoë’s body with me – Creon, who may still be bound, but who had made no bargain to keep his blades away from her. Not useless. Definitely not useless.
