His hand snaked around my waist, spinning me so fast that I gasped. Then, with a shove against my spine, he urged me forward. Or tried to urge me forward. My toe caught on a deck board, and I lost my balance, staggering to the side and nearly crashing into a marroweel’s corpse. Except the Guardian gripped my arm before I could collide with those pointed scales. He grabbed the exact place where Margot had held me yesterday. There were no bruises yet, but it was tender. A whimper escaped my throat, and he released me instantly, taking a step away. I shook off the pain in my arm and straightened,
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