Текст книги "Warprize"

Автор книги: Elizabeth A. Vaughan

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 4 (всего у книги 20 страниц)

“He is well.” I darted a glance off to the sides, but there was no one near.

“When could he travel?”

I could see where this was headed. “Days. Even then, he would have to be carried.”

He locked his eyes on mine for a moment, then seemed satisfied with the truth of my answer. “You will carry a message to him.”

“No.”

He looked at me sharply. “You heal the enemy…”

I cut him off. “No. I don’t know who you are, or what you hope to do, but I will not help you.”

His blue eyes gleamed. His hand moved down to my throat and rested lightly on it. “I could kill you now. ”

I swallowed hard and closed my eyes. “Who then would take the kavage to Simus?”

There was a huff of amusement. The hand left my throat, and I felt the heat of his body move away. I opened my eyes onto an empty alleyway.

I stood for a moment, just breathing, trying to let the feel of my body return to normal. But I could still feel the weight of him pressed against me, and the warmth of his breath on my cheek. Outside the alley, traffic ebbed and flowed, and the normal sounds helped me get myself under control. My packages lay at my feet, and I picked them all up, hoping that none of the bottles and jars had broken. There was still so much to do and time was wasting. I took a deep breath and started walking.

I was a fool. My cheeks flushed with embarrassment. An ignorant fool. I would talk to Lord Warren as soon as he was available.

Between the still room activities and helping Eln, it was late before I got to the prisoners’ tent. I yawned as I took the final part of the path, heading for Heath’s post. I stopped when I got to him, put down my satchel, sack and jugs, and stretched as high as I could, yawning with my mouth wide open. He smiled. “ Tired?”

I grinned and nodded. “After this, I go to bed… no stops along the way.”

Heath jerked his head toward the castle. “I heard the horns announce the arrival of the Warlord. Have you heard anything about the talks?”

I snorted. “Heath, I’d be the last person anyone would tell. I know that Warren is involved, but that’s all I know.” I sighed and picked up my bundles. I was tired, and the damn brooch was raising a blister on my ankle. I was frustrated as well, since I’d tried to speak to Lord Warren, but it hadn’t been possible. “ I hope they went well. It’s nice not to have more wounded.”

“Aye.” Heath had that mischievous look in his eye. “You’ll have more ladies of the court looking for lotions and potions.” I rolled my eyes, and he chuckled as he lifted the tent flap.

I looked for Rafe when I went in and saw him near Simus’s cot. As I moved through the tent, I could see that there were more men up and moving about. Although some were shaky and had others assisting them, they were moving.

“Rafe.” I called a greeting. He, Joden, and the other man, ummm… Prest, were near to Simus’s pallet. I set my parcels down and knelt to look at my patient.

“Has he woken?”

Joden shrugged. “He has been in and out all day.”

Prest looked at me. “Will he be well?

“Let us look.” Prest and Joden started the unwrapping process. I looked over at Rafe and grinned. “I found this in the marketplace. Maybe you have a use for it.”

He looked puzzled, but took the sack and opened it. His eyes got very big and excited. “Kavage! It is kavage!” He looked at me as the others started to react. “Where did you… ?”

“There was a merchant in the market that had some. He could not sell it, everyone thinks it is a poison.” The tent laughed, but Rafe paid me no attention as he and a few others started examining the contents and commenting on the seeds. They seemed sort of obsessed. I bit my lip and started to worry that I had done the wrong thing.

Joden caught my eye and smiled. “Have no fear, healer. It is a drink like any other. But it is a taste of home, and it will divert them for a time while they figure out a way to grind the beans.”

I smiled with relief and turned to the wound.

It was doing very well. I took a closer look than I had earlier and was still pleased with his progress. We cleaned and redressed it, smearing it this time with an unguent made of fever’s foe and fairysfoot.

Satisfied, I left it to Joden and Prest to wrap up my patient. I started on my rounds, tired but pleased. Each man was well out of danger and healing well. As I worked, I could hear Rafe and his group talking excitedly as they apparently found different ways to grind the beans I had brought. I stopped to watch for a moment as one man tried to grind them against a piece of wood with his bootheel. “Will that not affect the taste?”

He nodded without looking up. “Aye. It will add flavor.”

Eventually there was no noise at all, and I looked over to see the men in fierce contemplation of the metal pot the tinker had given me, hovering over one of the braziers of hot coals. I just shook my head and continued my work. Before long, an odd aroma filled the tent. Odd, but pleasant.

Finally, the last one was done. I went over to where Joden sat by Simus, and dropped down next to him. I dragged my satchel along, and started to re-pack everything in it. I was almost done when Joden nudged me, and I looked up to see Rafe standing before me, a mug of something steaming in his hand.

“We want you to have the first taste.” Rafe looked proudly at me as he handed me the mug. The rest of the tent was watching me, all eyes bright. I took the mug in one hand.

“You would not try to poison an innocent young healer, would you?” I looked suspiciously at Rafe, who stared back as innocent as a lamb.

“No.” Rafe looked very serious. “On my honor.” Then his grin flashed. “I would not waste kavage that way.”

Everyone in the tent started laughing, and a few pounded on Rafe’s back for his jest.

Taking a deep breath, I put the mug to my lips and sipped.

Once again the tent exploded in laughter as my face screwed up in disgust. I managed to swallow, but it was a near thing. The liquid was hot, thick and bitter.

Joden patted me on the back as the rest of the tent started to share in the pot and make plans for another one. “Most prefer it with some milk and honey to take away the bitter.”

“Yes! That’s right.” I looked around for my other purchases. “Kier told me that. So I brought some with me.”

The silence in the tent was immediate and thick. I froze under all those eyes drilling into me. And a voice, thin and weak, arose from the pallet that lay beside me.

“Kier? You spoke to Kier?” Simus struggled to sit up.

Joden and Prest reached out and pushed him down. I handed the milk and the honey to Rafe, who took it without comment. I turned back to Simus.

“I met a man in the market this morning who told me that the kavage was taken with milk or honey.” I was suddenly very thankful that there were two guards inside the tent with me. Two guards that were looking very nervous. One caught my eye and I gave him a smile. They relaxed a little.

Joden made a gesture, and the rest of the tent started to break up, talking and drinking from their mugs. He helped Simus to sit up and Rafe came over to help. He brought with him a mug, and Simus’s hand emerged from the blankets, weak and shaky, but latched onto the mug like a desperate man.

Joden looked at me. “A man with eyes like blue flames?” I nodded. “Did he send any message?”

I returned the gaze. “He wanted to. I refused.”

Joden’s eyes narrowed. Simus watched me over the brim of his mug as Rafe helped him drink from it.

I did not back down. “I am a healer of any in need of my services. But I am not a…” I could not think of the word for ‘traitor’. “I am not an oath-breaker. I have an oath as a healer, but also to my king. Any rescue attempt this Kier tries will be without my aid.”

The minute my mouth closed, I winced. Joden, Rafe, and Simus relaxed, I could feel the tension leave them when they heard my words. I had probably just delivered the very message Kier wanted them to have anyway. I flushed again.

Simus sighed. “This kavage is terrible. Who made it?”

Rafe coughed.

“I should have known.” He looked up at Joden. “How long?”

“Two days.” Joden replied. “You were brought in with a bad wound and fever.” Simus raised an eyebrow at that, and gave Joden a long look. Joden looked away, as if ashamed, but continued on. “ Lara here treated you, and the wound does well. I do not think you will lose the leg.”

Even more tension left Simus’s body at that news. He took another sip from his mug. “Any news?”

Joden shook his head. “I have had none.”

Simus looked at me and raised both eyebrows. I saw no harm. “All I know is that the Warlord arrived about midday to talk peace.”

Simus thought about that. “You are wrong, little healer. The Warlord is here to talk surrender.”

Chapter 3

As I walked back to the castle that night along the garden path, I felt strangely invigorated. The tiredness that I had felt before had dissipated as quickly as it had come. Before leaving the tents, I’d finished the mug of kavage, once I’d laced it with milk and honey. A strange herb. I wondered if it held healing properties.

Since there seemed little chance that I would sleep any time soon, I went to the castle stillroom off the kitchen area. I waved to Anna as I entered the kitchen, snagged a bowl of stew and some bread, and retreated into the dim recess to eat. I was starving, and couldn’t remember if I’d eaten at midday or not.

Perched on my stool, I ate quickly. The room with its rows of shelves and worktables was cool and quiet. The candle lamp only lit the small area around me. I’d light the rest when I started working. The scent of the spicy stew filled my senses, canceling out the scent of medicines and mixtures. As I wolfed down the food, I looked about, making plans. I’d concentrate on the medicinal recipes. If the fighting started back up, I would need all that I had on hand, and more. The lotions and perfumes could wait awhile.

Hours later the braziers were hot and the mixtures brewing. Water and willow bark were in one kettle boiling down to make fever’s foe. Another pot held the ingredients for the scar mixture, once I’d filched goats’ milk from the larder. As I stirred some of the orchid root mixture, I heard horns blowing. I stopped, listening, but they did not repeat. The Warlord must be leaving out the main gates. If that was the case, they’d been at it a long time. I breathed a silent prayer to the Goddess that things had gone well. Xymund’s pride had caused him to do foolish things in the past. But Lord Marshall Warren was a good man. I hoped he would see the wisdom to peace.

The bubbling pots and the homey smells relaxed me in a way that nothing else could. While I enjoy caring for people, this was a small pleasure of my trade, brewing elixirs that would ease pain and restore health. The closest I’d ever come to magic, that was certain. It gave me a true sense of being needed and a real feeling of accomplishment.

I was yawning madly by the time the orchid root was ready to be poured into the small bottles that I had prepared. Moving carefully, I filled each to the neck and stoppered them loosely. The corks could be tightened once the bottles were fully cooled. The last thing was the fever’s foe. The paste had to be spooned into small jars and sealed with wax. I put the wax to melt, and started to work. It seemed to take forever, but eventually I was perched on my stool, pouring the sealing wax over the last of the jars.

A knock came at the door, and Othur entered. He looked tired as well, with bags under his eyes. I smiled at him as I set down the wax pot. He stood there, rubbed his face with both hands and sighed.

“Long night?” I blew out the flame and gathered up a few of the jars to move to the storage shelves behind me.

Othur nodded. “The King talked alone with the Warlord for hours and has been closeted with the Council ever since. They’ve been at it, hammer and tongs, for some time. They’ve sent for you.”

I put down the last jar, and turned. “Me?” I blinked at him owlishly, surprised. “Why?”

There was a bitterness in his eyes as he shrugged. “I don’t know. But he wants to see you now.” My father had allowed Othur in all the councils and his opinion had been asked for and taken seriously. Xymund had removed the privilege when he’d taken the throne. Yet another reason for Anna to dislike him so.

I quickly finished cleaning the work area, and blew out the rest of the lamps and candles. Othur stood to one side and held the door. I slipped past him, smoothing down the front of my jerkin as I went. There were wax droplets and other stains, not to mention the smell, but the council was just going to have to settle for my work clothes if they wanted a status report about the prisoners at this hour. My jaw cracked in a yawn as I followed Othur through the back halls.

We arrived at the doors only to hear a heated argument going on inside. Othur and I exchanged looks, but made no comment. It did seem to me that Xymund spent more time arguing with his advisors instead of listening.

The guard nodded and opened the door to let me in. The conversation stopped abruptly as the door swung open.

Once again I found myself kneeling before my brother. But when I was granted permission to rise, Xymund was standing looking out the window. He was in formal dress, standing stiff and straight in front of the huge window. His hands were clenched behind his back. I glanced around. It seemed that the entire council was crowded about the room. Lord Marshall Warren was there, along with Archbishop Drizen. Drizen was seated by the hearth and dressed in formal vestments, with Deacon Browdus beside him. Everyone looked tired and worn. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught side glances being exchanged. There was a tension, as if everyone was avoiding looking at me. Something was very, very wrong.

“Xylara, the Warlord has named his terms for peace.” Xy-mund did not turn. He made his announcement as he stood looking out the window. His hands tightened around one another. I looked over at General Warren, who grimaced, and looked down at the floor.

“That is good to hear, Your Majesty.” I swallowed, sensing a problem. “Are they acceptable?”

Xymund still did not turn. “I and my nobles are to swear fealty to him. The kingdom will remain under my control and the taxes and tithes that are to be paid are reasonable. All prisoners and wounded, if there are any, will be exchanged.” There was a bitterness in his tone. Maybe because they had more of our men then we had of theirs. Xymund continued. “But he has claimed tribute.” My brother’s gaze remained fixed on the horizon.

My fears for a peace grew. If the Warlord claimed something of Xymund’s, his pride would forbid acceptance of the terms.

“What does he claim?” I took a step toward Xymund. Still, he did not turn. I looked around, but no one would meet my eyes.

At last, General Warren drew a breath. “You,” he cleared his throat. “He claims you as tribute.”

“Me?” My voice squeaked and sounded like it came from a distance.

Xymund did not turn. “As a slave.”

I stared at that broad back, certain that I had not heard that right. “Me? But…”

Warren nodded. He glanced at Xymund’s stiff back, but when there was no response, continued on, “ The Warlord has sworn for a true peace. No pillaging, no looting.” Warren swallowed. “He offers a true peace in exchange for you, Daughter of Xy.”

The Archbishop raged. “He takes a Daughter of the Blood as a whore. You cannot allow this, Majesty.” He and the deacon both wore similar expressions of horror.

Protocol be damned. I sank into the nearest chair, body and mind numb. “You have misunderstood. He can’t want…”

Xymund’s hands twisted around each other, as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. The light caught the gold brocade of his tunic as he moved. Always the regal one, my brother. “He would take you as his possession, a slave to his desires. He would not explain what your ultimate fate would be. He just repeated that he claims you, that you must be promised to him.” He moved his head slightly, but did not turn. “I offered him lands, cattle, or gold. He just shook his head no. ‘For a true peace,’ he said. ‘I claim her.’”

I stared at him, blankly. From childhood, I had been drilled in my responsibility as a Daughter of the House of Xy. That a marriage of alliance would be expected of me. But as the years had passed, and I had gained my mastery, it had seemed a dim prospect. Yet here it was, the obligations of my birth and my house, in a form far different from any expectations. I licked my dry lips and tried to remember to breathe.

My legs managed to get me up out of the chair, and over to stand next to Xymund at the window. Father had chosen this room for its view of the length of the valley. The river, the lake, the farms and cottages. Now I saw what Xymund saw. Campfires. Hundreds of them outside the walls, scattered over the valley. The Warlord’s men. I leaned my head against the cool stonework and looked out in despair.

Xymund shifted slightly and turned. For a brief instant I saw it in his eyes. Deep within, hidden from the men in this room, was his utter and complete glee. “You have already promised him his tribute,” I whispered.

Xymund tilted his head to the side.

Rage filled me in an instant. I wanted to strike out hard and hurt him. Warren could rule better. Othur could rule better.

The rage drained away as quickly as it had surged, leaving me shaken. The glitter of those campfires reminded me of what faced us.

“Xylara.” Warren was standing behind us. “No one can ask this of you.” I turned to face him. He did not look at the King.

“We do not know this man’s intent… there have been no assurances of your safety or…” He paused. “ Or of your status. My men and I will fight—”

“And if you fight, Warren? What is the hope?” I asked.

Warren shook his head. “I cannot tell. We are ill prepared for a siege. Water is not a problem, but food …” His voice trailed off.

“There are the tunnels into the mountains.” A large, older man spoke up. I couldn’t place his name but knew he was one of the craftsmen on the council. “We can bring in supplies that way.”

Warren shook his head. “The tunnels are old and rarely used. They are big enough for men to walk single file, but not for laden horses. We could not bring in enough food or supplies fast enough to feed a whole city.” He took a deep breath. “The Warlord’s men would need to build siege equipment. Winter comes on. There’s a good chance that we could hold out til the weather drives him back to the plains.”

I moved back to the chair and sank into it. There was an odd kind of numbness in my brain. Voices were raised, as they debated again, but I couldn’t make out the words. I stared at Xymund’s back, but he did not turn. He simply looked out over the valley.

I licked my dry lips again. “Warren?” My voice was little more then a whisper. It sounded strange to my ears.

The arguing continued in the background as he knelt by my chair. I looked into his eyes. I saw his fear.

His fear that I would not do this.

“Will it be a true peace?”

Warren nodded, his head close to mine. “Yes. The Warlord has kept his word to those he has taken. It is only where any have betrayed him that he has retaliated. When he is betrayed or defied, he is ruthless.” The old man bent his head.

“I need…” I cleared my dry throat and looked down at my clasped hands. The knuckles were white. What I needed mattered no longer. I looked up and let my voice carry, cutting through the useless debate. “When is this to take place?”

Xymund turned. “Sunset. The ceremony will be at sunset tomorrow.” He gestured toward the window, where dawn could be seen on the horizon. “Today.”

I nodded. It took every bit of strength, but I managed to get to my feet. “The House of Xy has always seen to the needs of its people.” I took a deep breath. “I will be ready at sunset.”

Everyone in the room but the King sank to their knees, removing helms and uncovering heads. I looked steadily at Xy-mund, who stared back at me, sullenly.

I turned and walked toward the door on legs gone numb. Once in the hall, I moved without really seeing anything. Next thing I knew, I was in my room. I stood for a moment, looking at my belongings scattered about, at the fire that burned so cheerfully, at my books, and papers, and…

I fell to my knees and managed to get to the chamber pot before retching up my supper.

I heaved and panted over the pot for what seemed an endless time. The spice of the stew burned my lips. It occurred to me that it would be a long time before I could stomach the taste of Anna’s stew again. Then I realized that would not be a problem. My stomach cramped at the thought.

My eyes closed, I tried to concentrate on my breathing instead of the wretched cramping of my gut. A slave. The heaving began again, although there was nothing left to purge.

Sounds at my door, then hands pulled back my hair, and a cool cloth was on my neck. My breathing started to even out, and a cup of water was pressed to my lips. I took some water in, rinsed and spit. Supporting hands drew me up and away. It was Anna, who clutched me to her ample breast, making soft sounds, and rubbing my back with her hands. I buried my face in her neck and clung like a sick child. She smelled of bread, and grease, and home. Her big warm hands rubbed my back as she cradled me, both of us kneeling on the floor. My sobs eased as she hugged and rocked me. “You cannot do this thing,” she whispered into my ear. “… you cannot.”

Word travels fast.

“I must,” I whispered back. “Xymund has already promised.” I lifted my head and sniffled, wiping my eyes with my hands. Othur was seated on my bed, his eyes red-rimmed, his hands hanging between his legs.

Othur snorted. “He had no right.” He took a deep breath, his lips thinning as he pressed them together.

“Bastard he is, bastard in blood and deed.” Anna hissed. “Fine, then he can answer to the Warlord. We will get you away, hide you ‘til this is done.”

I dropped my head to her shoulder and allowed myself to be comforted for a moment.

“We have friends beyond the mountains, where you could go, Lara.” Othur’s voice was soft.

I lifted my head and looked into his worried eyes. “It wouldn’t just be Xymund that answered to the Warlord, would it? It would be the city.”

Othur dropped his gaze. He said nothing.

I pushed myself away from Anna and sat up. “Would it?”

Othur looked into the fire. “Rumor has it that the Warlord is ruthless when betrayed, or when a promise is not kept.”

Anna spoke up. “Child, you are not responsible for…”

I looked at her, at her tear-streaked face. “What would Father have done?”

Othur sat up at that comment. “If your father were alive he would be horsewhipping your brother through the halls and down into the stables. He’d never have pledged you without consulting you first.”

Anna nodded in agreement, her chins jiggling. She took up a damp cloth and wiped my face. “Child, please. There is no need for this.”

“What is the alternative? I walk away from the city? From these people? From you? And leave you to what fate, Anna?”

I rose to my feet. Othur stood as well, and we both helped Anna get her bulk off the floor. Once she was on her feet, Othur swept me into a hug. “This isn’t over, Lara. We need to talk about this before—”

The door slamming open brought him up short.

It was Xymund.

He stood in the doorway, a small chest under his arm.

Anna covered the chamber pot with the damp cloth, and picked it up. With a nod to Xymund, she left the room. For one brief moment, I held my breath, afraid that the contents of the pot would be flung in his face. But Anna went past him without a word. Othur bowed to Xymund, then followed his wife out. He cast a glance at me as he closed the door that told me that our discussion was not over yet.

Xymund placed the chest on the small table by the door.

“The Warlord’s men brought this. His instructions are that you be bathed, oiled, and anointed with perfume. Your hair is to be down. Wear the garment that has been provided and nothing else. When summoned into the throne room, you will walk to the throne, kneel before the Warlord and extend your wrists for your chains.”

I did not reply. I would not give him the satisfaction.

“I have something else to give you.” He held out a small vial with a dark fluid in it. I took it, and looked at him with a question in my eyes. “It’s monkshood.”

One of the deadliest poisons known. Takes less then a few breaths. My voice barely emerged from my throat. “What am I to do with this?”

“The right thing.” He put his hands behind his back. “I had no choice, Xylara. My generals tell me that we could not withstand him. By doing this I save the kingdom.”

“And your throne.” Suddenly I was very, very tired. I sat in a chair, and looked at the vial. So small. So deadly.

“I am giving you an escape. I will leave the timing of it to your discretion.”

I let the bitterness escape. “My thanks, to be sure.”

He stiffened. “The best time would be after the ceremony, but before he can…” His voice trailed off, and I closed my eyes. “I know that you will do what is best for our people.” Bitterness and something even darker now lay in his tone. I looked at him and found it on the tip of my tongue to ask him why he hated me.

I doubted that I would get an honest answer.

He endured my look for a moment and then turned on his heel and left the room, closing the door behind him.

The brown liquid flowed back and forth as I turned the vial in my hand. I stared at it as I turned it over and over…

All I had ever wanted was to heal. To fix the hurts of others. A school of my own, a place to study and learn and teach, and heal. Now, I would be a…

I swallowed as the bile rose in my throat again. I stood and started to pace in the confines of my small room. I kept going over the scene in Xymund’s study, trying to find another way, an alternative to what he had promised our enemy. Xymund’s words kept running through my head. ‘I and my nobles are to swear fealty to him. The kingdom will remain under my control and the taxes and tithes that are to be paid are reasonable and proper. All prisoners and wounded, if there are any, will be exchanged. But he has claimed tribute.’

‘… claimed tribute…’

‘… claimed tribute… ’ But there was something else, something…

‘All prisoners and wounded, if there are any, will be exchanged’

Dearest Goddess, ‘if there are any’!

I stood suddenly, dropping the vial onto the bed. Xymund had no intention of exchanging prisoners. He would obey the letter of the agreement but not the spirit. I swallowed hard, glancing out the window to the rising sun. It might already be too late.

I was up and moving without another thought. I flew out of the room, reaching the circular back stair, throwing myself down them as fast as my feet could go. I burst through the kitchen door, and bless the Goddess, Othur was still there with Anna. They looked up, staring at me as if I had taken leave of my senses.

I hurried over, talking as fast as my breath would let me.

“Slow down, Lara, slow down.” He frowned. “Xymund wouldn’t. He’s too afraid of that demon to…”

Anna wiped her face, her expression grim. “He would, damn him. A sop to his pride. What can we do?”

“I think I can get them safe to the castle gates, but be-yond?” I trembled at the thought of a slaughter, of its effect on the peace.

Othur rubbed his chin. “Let me worry about that. Go to the tents, Lara. Maybe we’re wrong, but go anyway.”

I nodded, ran to the still room, and grabbed up my satchel. Without further thought I exploded out of the kitchen and down the garden path, running for all I was worth, praying that I was wrong.

I stopped at the briar patch, just out of sight of the first sentry post, and tried to catch my breath. No point in giving myself away. I dropped the satchel, bent over, hands on knees, and concentrated on breathing.

Once I had it under control, I picked up the bag and started walking down the path at my normal pace. I had to be in time, had to be…

The first sentry appeared unconcerned, giving me a genial wave as I passed by. I returned it, and continued on. One slow step at a time. The next sentry came into view. I waved and kept my pace normal.

The guard was a familiar one, but I could not place the name. He nodded to me. “You’re early this morn. ” I nodded and smiled, not trusting my voice. He lifted the flap. I took a breath and stepped inside. Everything was as it had been. I let out my breath slowly and swayed with the relief that coursed over me. Most of the prisoners were still asleep and not yet stirring. Someone was about, though, for I could smell kavage, and some of the braziers were alight. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe.

I looked over to where Simus and Joden were, and headed toward them. The shadows clung in that area of the tent, where the light of the fires did not reach.

Joden looked up first and seemed startled to see me. He rose from his knees and held out a hand, as if to ward me off. I moved past him and knelt by Simus, who exclaimed sharply as I reached over to pull back the blankets. I looked over, startled, then followed his gaze to the tent wall. There, where the darkness was deepest, I discovered something important.

There was a man hidden in the shadows.

I froze. Joden had moved behind me, blocking the guards view. Simus was struggling to sit up, and I assisted him almost unconsciously, my eyes never leaving the blue eyes that gleamed from the shadows above us.

Kier.

Joden was speaking softly and it took me a minute to remember his language. “… please. Don’t betray him, Lara. I beg you.”

“I won’t.” I answered, keeping my own voice low. I glared into those blue eyes, so bright in the darkness. “Is this some kind of foolhardy rescue plan?”

White teeth gleamed in the shadows.

I tore my gaze away and concentrated on Simus’s leg. My hands trembled as I opened the bandage to inspect the wound. First Xymund threatens the peace and then this fool. My mouth tightened as a wave of anger passed over me. Was I the only one who cared?

Simus lay back down. “Something has happened.” He looked back and forth between me and the silent man in the shadows.