She wasn’t broken by it, though, just hurt and upset with herself. She pushed the hood up, whirled, kicked out and connected with Archard to send him reeling. She called for her sword. “Thief!” she spat. “Worse than a thief!” He kept himself from falling, stepped back, hands raised defensively, his expression unreadable. “Roux!” Annja shouted. “Trap!” A car door opened and slammed, followed by a second and a third. Annja pointed the sword at Archard’s belly. “We’re going back inside.” She held her blade with her right hand and with her left reached behind her to the trunk, feeling for Durendal. “And we’re calling the authorities. You might think you’ve got a right to this sword, but you’re not Roland.” There was a spitting sound and a bullet whizzed by her head. She spun to put herself fully behind the trunk, using it as a shield and keeping an eye on Archard.
