Текст книги "The Sea-Ogre's Eager Bride"

Автор книги: Ruby Dixon

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Chapter

Six

VALI

Sleeping on the “floor” of the tent isn’t the most comfortable, but I’ve had worse. I wake up surprisingly refreshed to find myself alone in the sea-ogre’s quarters. He didn’t awaken me when he left, but that’s fine. He strikes me as a bit of a loner, and it’s going to take him some time to get used to having a wife around. I wonder if we’re going to live on the back of this turtle or if there’s a more suitable place. I can’t exactly ask. My new husband is already prickly with me.

At least, I think he’s my husband. I’m not certain what the marriage laws are with his people, but I know in certain lands, all it takes is a declaration towards a woman and then you’re bound to one another. We could be wedded at this point. I prefer to think of it like that. It gives my new situation a little bit more permanence, and my life has had very little of permanence thus far.

Yawning, I try to tidy the bags on the floor. I’m not sure what the reason is behind attaching a dried fish to each one, but I’m sure there’s a reason. Perhaps an offering to Vor if the bags should fall overboard? I should ask so I can do the same. I still need to give my offering to the great god of the seas, but I think he’ll understand that I’m not exactly equipped to fish at the moment. The bags in the tent are heavy, most of them laden with what sound like metallic objects. There’s a crate, too, but I don’t open it or any more of the bags. Ranan gave me a sour look yesterday when he saw me opening one, and I’m determined to get on his good side today.

I need him to like me because sleeping in his arms was far more comfortable than shivering out in the open. Plus, I’m absolutely famished with hunger, and he’s no doubt got food around here somewhere. If I make him annoyed at me, he’ll swim off again and then I won’t see him for hours, and I can’t catch my own food.

At least, not yet. If we’re to live on the back of a turtle, though, I suspect I’m going to have to learn.

Once the bags are straightened into (mostly) neat piles by the sounds they make when the objects inside clink together, it leaves a lot more room on the floor of the tent. Room enough for both of us to spread out comfortably, and I wonder if there’s bedding somewhere, or if it’s just not something he uses. I suppose I can ask when we get a bit more comfortable with each other.

I wish he’d let me suck his cock. Men are far more amenable to a woman’s demands when they’ve had their cocks sucked.

The ground shifts underneath my feet and I wobble, falling against the side of the tent with a yelp. I manage to catch myself before I crash through the strange leather and tear it, and stagger outside, looking around.

We’re…moving?

Even though I don’t see the turtle’s head, I can feel the strange surge of the body moving, and every so often, the lift of a long, angular flipper rising through the waters. The sea around us glimmers in the sunlight, startlingly beautiful, and I can see why someone would live on the waters. It’s so pretty. Seagulls fly through the air high overhead, clouds dot the blue sky, and it’s an absolutely gorgeous day with fair weather and a gentle breeze. It’s so much nicer than the cities, where everything smells like last night’s chamberpots and the only greenery to be seen is on sale in the market, and won’t be eaten by slaves because it’s too expensive.

I take a deep breath of the sea air and hug my arms to my chest. Get a blanket and some food and I could be happy like this, I think…provided my new husband will speak more than two words to me.

As if my thoughts have summoned him, Ranan’s head surfaces through the waters nearby. He tosses a fish the size of my arm onto the turtle’s back and then hauls himself over the side and onto the shell. He’s dripping with water, wearing nothing but his usual loincloth and the knife-belts that cover his chest. The sail atop his head shivers when he shakes himself off, and I raise a hand to shield my eyes from the flying droplets that go everywhere. “Good morning, Ranan,” I say cheerfully. “Are we going somewhere?”

There’s no answer. Why am I not surprised? The man acts as if he doesn’t even like me, which is quite odd considering he’s the one that asked for a bride. Perhaps he’s just not a chatty sort. If he prefers silence, I’ll have to learn to be a bit quieter. The old man I served when I was first enslaved liked for me to talk. He said it filled his empty house a bit, so I learned to chitchat as I did chores and talked about everything and nothing. If Ranan doesn’t want that, though, I can learn to be quieter.

I can be anything he needs, as long as he keeps me safe. And last night, he was kind to me. He saw me shivering and pulled me in his arms and kept me warm. If he truly hated me, he wouldn’t have done such a thing. Pleased at this realization, I beam at him.

Ranan eyes me with a hard gaze.

“If I do something that bothers you, please let me know,” I say, keeping my voice gentle and even. “I’m not here to make you miserable, but I won’t know you’re displeased unless you speak up.”

“It’s fine,” he says, voice gruff. His gaze falls to the gaping neck of my slave shift and then just as quickly veers away again.

I noticed him looking at my body last night. I might not be a noble lady, but I’ve got a strong frame and rather nice breasts, if I do say so myself. My slave shift is old and showing its wear, and I’m starting to think that dirt was the only thing holding it together. Now that it’s gotten wet, pieces of it have started to fray and tear quickly. The neckline gapes open far too low for a modest household, but we’re on a turtle’s back. I don’t know the etiquette for this particular location.

If I’m to stay with him, I should probably get something a bit more suited to sea life, though. Something that won’t fall apart too much. Something warmer, perhaps. Then again, he’s not offering and I’m not going to ask. It’ll do until it falls off of me, and then I can just run around in a loincloth like he does. I have to bite back a smile at the thought as Ranan stalks away.

He moves with purpose, I notice, as I follow after him. Every step is one made forcefully, as if he has a battle plan in mind and is simply executing it. I like it. Slave men tend to meander, because a prompt and eager slave just gets more work handed to them. You learn to be slower—cheerful but slower—and you learn to lie a lot.

Lies serve a slave more than the truth. I learned that very quickly. No one wants to hear from a slave that their work is too much, their master’s cock is not appealing when waved in one’s face, and the lady’s arse does look big in that. Lies are a slave’s armor. They’re our safety. Of course we lie. It’s to protect ourselves. I do it as naturally as breathing nowadays.

Ranan picks up the fish flopping on the turtle’s back and then pulls one of his knives from the loops on his leather straps. I study them, noting that there are several loops and the knives themselves look to be made from large sharp teeth, some from hard scales, and some look like they were crafted from thick flakes of rock. All of them look rather deadly, and when he cuts open the fish with a single stroke, I realize they’re sharp, too.

With expert, quick movements, he slices the fish and guts it, tossing the innards over the side of the turtle. A moment later, he cuts a large, thick chunk of pink flesh out and holds it up to me with one of his many hands. Oh.

I take it gingerly and try not to wrinkle my nose. Parness was farther inland, too far from the shore for fresh fish, and the ones we got from the river were smelly and unpleasant. “I don’t mean to be a bother,” I say to Ranan, knowing that he’s going to hate my question. “But I truly don’t know how to cook without a fire of some kind. Can you advise me?”

He narrows his eyes at me. A moment later, he carves a second chunk from the fish and shoves the entire thing into his mouth, eating it raw.

Oh. Oh my. My nostrils flare and I swallow hard, because I’ve never had raw fish, and I’m not sure I’m prepared to eat such a thing. Growling stomach or not, food has to go down when one eats it, and right now my throat is locked tight. “I’ve never had raw fish,” I whisper, as if a quieter protest will somehow make him less irritated with me. “Won’t we get sick?”

He takes another chunk from the fish and eats it, staring deliberately at me as he chews. It feels like a dare, a challenge. If I’m to be a sea-ogre’s wife, I have to learn to eat like a sea-ogre, don’t I? Bracing myself, I take a small, nibbling bite, expecting it to taste horrendous.

It’s…quite nice. The flesh is tender and flavorful, and I pop the entire thing in my mouth with a noise of surprise. “I didn’t realize it’d be so good.”

He cuts off another piece and holds it out to me. “Never ate fish with all the other sea-ogres, eh?”

He’s determined for me to admit that I’m a liar. But I just smile sweetly at him and lick my lips. “Never.”

Ranan rolls his eyes, and I can tell I’ve annoyed him again. He carves up the rest of the fish for me and disposes of the ends and innards over the side of the turtle once again and then rinses his hands in the water. His feet are huge but powerful as he grips the side of the shell where it slopes, whereas I practically have to lie upon my belly just to rinse my hands, because otherwise I’ll fall off into the waters below.

But I follow him to the edge and rinse my hands, and when I nearly tumble in (just as I suspected), he grabs the back of my dress and holds me steady. “Thank you,” I say, ignoring the fact that the fabric ripped in his grasp. It’s not his fault. “Will you teach me how to fish so I can get a large one for Lord Vor?”

Ranan doesn’t answer me. He studies the waters instead. “We are going to shore.”

“We are? Is that why your turtle is moving?” When he doesn’t answer, I prod, “Are we going someplace in particular?”

He shrugs, not looking at me. “Near a human settlement.”

“Oh, so you can sell your jewels? Do you need help with that? I’m happy to assist. I’ve gotten pretty good at haggling.” I give him a cocky smile. “I once talked the armor off a soldier headed to war.”

Ranan snorts, the sound full of derision. It’s clear he doesn’t believe me. “Stay here until we make land.”

As if I have anywhere to go?

It’s a long, lazy morning.

I have to admit, I’m not used to those. Mornings as a slave are full of early starts and endless chores. Even before, when I wasn’t a slave, I had to take care of my father’s house and feed the chickens. There’s nothing for me to do here, though, so I sit and admire the scenery, watching the view change from alarmingly rocky cliffs to sandy shores. I soak up the sunshine and finger-comb my hair, and it feels both odd and pleasant to sit around and do nothing. It’s jarring, of course, but…still nice.

Ranan works as Akara swims. He fills the strange-looking cage with more seaweed to dry, testing strands and removing ones that have crisped up in the sun. He weaves them into a long length that he stores away, and frowns at me when I ask what he’s doing. Then he works on sharpening his strange little knives and disappears into the waves again, swimming alongside the turtle for a time. He fills a barrel with a sand-based filtering system that pulls the salt from the water and makes it potable and keeps refilling it throughout the day so we both have drinking water.

I might as well not exist for all that he pays attention to me.

He’s just not used to having a wife, I remind myself. He’ll need time to get used to another person around.

We come upon a long, sandy stretch of shore with white beaches leading up to tall hills of vibrant green. I’ve heard the lands to the south of Aventine are nothing but dirt, that all the magic has been soaked up from the ground, leaving nothing able to grow. This obviously isn’t that place, but I don’t know where we are. There are a couple of broken-down-looking boats at the far end of the beach, near some jagged-looking rocks, and a hut on stilts. Someone lives around here, then. A friend of Ranan’s?

Somehow, I find it difficult to think of Ranan as having friends. He barely speaks to his wife.

My face feels hot as the massive turtle steers towards the shore, jostling us when she climbs over a sand bank. I glance down at my bare arms and they’re reddened from the endless sunlight. I’m sure I’m going to hurt later, but for now, I’m just enjoying the warmth. I’d rather be warm than shiver, and since my only dress is getting worse by the day, I’ll be happy with nothing but sunshine.

The turtle skims her way into shallow waters and then turns slightly, settling into the sands. Waves crash against her shell, jostling the ground underneath my feet. I look over at Ranan, who wades out to the shore. “Can I go look around?”

He glances over at me, and I get the impression that he’d almost forgotten I was here. “Stay close.”

“I won’t go far,” I tell him brightly. “I just want to look around. Maybe find some pretty shells.”

Ranan makes a flicking gesture with his hand, indicating that I should follow. I move to the side of the turtle and slide into the water…and sputter when it goes over my head. I keep forgetting how very tall my new husband is. A large hand fishes me out of the water, and then an arm locks around my waist. He hauls me toward the shore like I’m a sack of grain and plops me down on the sand the moment we clear the waves. I cough, brushing my wet and wave-ravaged hair off my face. “Thank you.”

“Stay close to Akara,” he growls at me.

“Who’s Akara?”

He gives me an irritated look and stabs a finger at the turtle. Oh. The turtle has a name? Of course it does. Why wouldn’t a turtle have a name? Is it some sort of pet to him, then? More than just a moving island he lives atop? Perhaps Akara is all these things, and I feel foolish for assuming that the turtle is nothing but a means of moving about. Even farmers name their chickens.

“Hello Akara,” I call out to the turtle from my spot on the shore. The creature doesn’t answer, but that’s not unexpected. I can’t even see its head from here. As I straighten, Ranan stalks down the beach. All right, that message is clear—we’re not spending time together.

At least now I have an entire beach to explore.

I spend the next while going up and down the small inlet beach, curling my toes in the warm sands. I’m thirsty, but Ranan didn’t leave the waterskin with me so I’m just going to have to wait. I do find shells, though. There are some large ones, bigger than my palm, and with a deep belly full of shine. I hold each one, determining if it will make a good cup. Two of them are very close in size, and I hold them up to my breasts, wondering if I can make myself some sort of corset with leather straps that will keep everything from bobbing.

The shells are so lovely that I can’t help but gather all of the ones that I find. There’s one that gleams iridescent in the light, and another spiky blue one that has a tiny hole bored through the center that would make a lovely necklace. Like a greedy child, I grip the edges of my dress to act as a sack, using it to hold all the shells as I wander about. Perhaps we can go to a market and I can sell my finds for a few coins at least. I’m sure people farther inland would pay for such charming oddities. They’d make great decorations, and I immediately start to think of all the things people could make with them. Bowls. Spoons. Candle-holders. Shiny bits could be sewn into the neck of a tunic⁠—

“Well, well, well!”

The voice is so raspy and unfamiliar it makes me jump. Several of the shells tumble out of my skirt and land on the sands at my feet. I turn, eyeing the man that’s snuck up on me while I’ve been distracted with my finds.

It’s a stranger, no more than ten paces away from me, and far too close to make me comfortable. The man is a peasant from the look of things, with a scraggly graying beard and weathered clothing. His face is lined and deeply tanned, and when he leers at me, he’s missing a few teeth. “Aren’t you pretty.”

“My thanks,” I say, though I’m not thankful at all. Then, I put my lying skills to work. I crane my head, trying to peek over his shoulder. “Did you pass my husband? He was just here.”

“No one here on this beach but you and me and the boys,” he says, taking another step towards me.

I take a step backward, still clutching my skirts. The boys? I scan the shore quickly and sure enough, there are two other grown men—both larger than I am—watching from nearby, their eyes covetous. I’m a woman alone, which is problematic…but I’m also dressed in what’s clearly a slave garment.

“You’re wrong,” I correct, keeping my tone cheerful. “I’m positive my husband is nearby. You’d know if you saw him. He’s a sea-ogre, and quite a fierce one.”

“That his turtle?”

“Yes it is.” I’m relieved they noticed, though I’d prefer if Akara came out of the water and chased these men off. They’re making me uncomfortable.

Or she could eat them. Truly, I wouldn’t mind that either.

“Call for him,” the bearded man says, and there’s a gleam in his eyes I don’t like. “If he’s nearby, I’m sure he’ll answer.”

I haven’t seen Ranan since I stepped onto the beach, though. He keeps avoiding me as if he hates me, and I don’t know what to do about it. I’m not sure how sea-ogres treat their wives normally but surely better than this? I don’t have any authority to complain, though, and so I’ve ignored it. But my heart sinks as the man takes another step towards me.

If I call for Ranan and there’s no answer, these men are going to snatch me…or worse.

“RANAN,” I yell, as loud as I can.

We wait. I hold my breath, hoping for his crested head to appear. There’s no response, though, and as the moments slide quietly past, my anxiety rises.

The bearded man glances behind me. “Jos, ready the boat. Kep, you know what to do.”

Rough hands grab my arms, and I drop my shells to the sands, screaming.

Chapter

Seven

RANAN

“RANAN.”

The woman screams my name, and I fight back a surge of irritation as I swim through the waters of the cove, back toward where I left her. I went up and down the coast, looking for a human settlement. The hut near the water’s edge made me think there would be a city nearby, but all I’ve seen are a few rude farms that look far too poor to take on another mouth to feed, and a few travelers—all male—that eye me as if they’d like to rob me.

I can’t leave the woman with them. They’ll have her on her back before my back is turned. And while she irritates me, she also prayed to the gods that I would save her, and I’m loath to put her back in the same position. There has to be a place I can leave her safely. An inn of some kind, or a shop. Somewhere where I can give her a few necklaces to sell and send her on her way.

But when I find nothing, I head back to the water’s edge and slip into the waves so I can think. The sea always helps me clear my thoughts, and as I swim through the rolling blue waters, a large fish moves past, a fish much larger than should be in these waters. It reminds me of the human woman and her vow to offer a sacrifice to the god Vor.

She wants to thank him for bringing her to me.

I don’t know what to make of that. I’ve treated her badly ever since she arrived and yet she still wants to thank the gods. Her situation must have been terrible for her to enjoy my company. I think of how she was chained with the other slaves, how she’d mentioned that she was going to end up in a brothel, and I feel a twinge of guilt. What happens if I leave her on the shore to her own devices?

But I can’t be responsible for her, I tell myself. She doesn’t belong with me. What happens to her after we part ways is in the hands of the fates.

Even so, I follow the large fish and make note of where it dives when it heads into the reefs, just in case I come after it later. If she doesn’t have a chance to make her sacrifice to Lord Vor, I’ll make it on her behalf, I decide. It’s the least I can do.

Now I suppose I had better see what she’s screaming over. Probably a crab of some kind. Served many sea-ogres, my arse. I’m the only sea-ogre she’s ever met. She’s a liar and I despise liars. My mood sours again, I surface from the waves and stride towards the shore, only to hear another scream.

It’s her—Vali.

“Don’t touch me!” she cries.

I scan the beach, my senses on alert, and spot multiple figures on the sands. She’s found other humans, it seems, her dark, long hair easy to spot. She’s closer to Akara than I am. You told her to stay close, I remind myself. I stride towards her location, scowling, just in time to see one of the men grab her by the front of her dress and rip it down her body.

She plants a fist in his mouth and kicks at the one holding her, screaming with outrage.

My temper soars, too. Who do these men think they are that they can grab a woman and attack her? There is a scatter of shells near their feet, evidence that she was minding her own business.

I snarl as I approach, storming toward them and flexing my four arms to look as intimidating as possible. They’re so focused on Vali’s flailing arms and legs that they have yet to notice me…which only pisses me off more. “What do you think you are doing?”

They turn to look at me, and as they do, their eyes widen. The one clutching Vali by the waist drops her immediately and she falls to the sand, her breasts spilling out of her ripped garment. She cries out, remaining where she is, and glances up at me. There’s a trickle of blood coming from her nostril, and the sight of that incenses me.

They hit her? They came upon a pretty female on the beach and attacked and hit her? Are all humans such monsters?

“Why are you touching my wife?” I snarl at them, moving to stand in front of all three fishermen.

“We didn’t know she was yours,” the oldest—the one that ripped her dress—stammers. “We thought she was an escaped slave. A free prize for anyone.”

“And because you thought she was a slave you attacked her?” I march up to the bearded one, glaring down at him. “Explain this to me.”

He shoots a glance at the other men. “If she was an escaped slave, there’d be a bounty on her head. Easy coin. If not, then we could sell her again. That’s all. We were just looking to have a little taste and make a few coins.”

So they would rape a stranger and sell her to the first buyer all because they thought she might be a slave.

“She’s got cuff marks on her wrists,” protests one of the others. “And she’s wearing a slave shift. We did nothing wrong.”

“I should cut your throats and feed you three to my turtle,” I hiss at them. They quail, shrinking back from me and eyeing my trident. I tap my leg. “Vali, come here.”

That makes her look up. She gives me an indignant stare, clutching the remains of her dress to her breasts, but slowly gets to her feet and moves to my side.

“Should I kill them, wife?” I ask, folding two of my arms over my chest and brandishing my trident with a third hand. “Say the word.”

“Yes,” she says immediately.

I’m surprised. I thought she’d beg for their lives, say it was all a mistake. But her tone is hard and just as angry as mine, and it’s clear there’s a dark streak in her.

“Wait! Wait!” the bearded human says. “We can come to an agreement!”

“We have gold,” says another, taking a step back and glancing at the shack in the distance. He clearly wants to run for it. If he does, he’ll find my trident lodged in his spine.

“Show me your gold and I’ll tell you if it’s enough to buy your lives.” I turn to Vali, gesturing at Akara in the distance. “Return to the tent.”

She shoots me an equally venomous look—and I am surprised by her all over again—but does as she is told and retreats to the safety of the turtle.

The humans do have a fair amount of gold for poor fishermen, and it’s clear Vali is not the first they’ve attacked. I clean them out of their riches and find out which one hit Vali and deliver a hit of my own…and a warning. If they touch what’s mine again, I’ll kill them and rob them. The smell of urine follows me as I abandon them on the beach, as the eldest has pissed himself with fear.

I return to Akara’s side, moving to her head and running a hand over her sharp beak. She blinks large, dark eyes up at me, reaching out with her thoughts. She smells humans on the shore and doesn’t like it. I prod at her, wondering if Vali’s scent bothers her, but she only sends a mental picture of me back—she associates Vali with me now, her scent with mine. Hunh.

The humans are troubling, though. If they attacked Vali, then I cannot simply leave her near a settlement. If I do, she will be enslaved again before the day is out. I’ve seen the cuff markings on her wrists as well, though I didn’t know slaves had a particular sort of garment. All seakind wear as little as possible, our women as bare as our men. I know nothing of human dresses. It’s not my fault they mistook her for a slave.

Even so, I’m glad I arrived in time. I don’t like that they hit her. I don’t like that they tore her clothes and attacked her. Just thinking about it makes me furious, and I’m tempted to go back up to the hut and cut their throats anyhow, just to sate my anger.

I stroke Akara’s bony head and think of the large fish I saw earlier. Is this Lord Vor telling me that this female should be my bride after all? Did he send her to me? It is something I will have to think about. For now, I need to return to Vali and reassure her, as she will no doubt be full of tears and gratitude that I have saved her yet again. I’ll give her the gold from the men, I decide. And if she offers to touch me again, I’ll still turn her away, but I like the thought of her offering.

If she is to be my bride after all…the idea irks me less this day. I think of how warm she was, how soft in my arms last night. I don’t need a bride, but perhaps I am too much alone after all.

I duck into the tent, looking for the woman. She is seated in the back, the bags neatly arranged to allow more floor space. Her dress is off and she’s busy knotting it, trying to piece it together again. The blood still trails from her nose, and when I enter, she looks up and sends me a look of pure anger.

“What am I to you?” she demands.

I am taken aback by her tone. She has been pleasant and eager to please all this time and now she is like this? “Excuse me?”

She grabs another torn end of the fabric in her hands, not caring that she sits naked in front of me. Her hands knot material in jerking, angry movements. “I want to know what I am to you. You asked for a bride. I volunteered. You said yes. Yet you treat me like I’m a wart that has suddenly appeared on your nose. It makes me wonder, and so I am asking you—what am I? Your wife or your slave?”

I scowl.

“I’m asking because I can’t tell. You treat me like I am nothing to you. You don’t answer when I talk to you. You act like my questions irritate you. Your home has no comforts for a person, much less a man seeking a bride.” Her accusing gaze flicks up to me as she makes another furious knot in the clothing. “You address me in front of others as if I’m a dog, tapping your thigh and telling me to come.”

I narrow my eyes at her. True, I did do that. I simply wanted to get her away from those men attacking her.

“So am I a dog? A slave? Because you tell me not to call you master. What am I, then? You cannot say I’m not a slave and then treat me like one around others. I don’t know how to act. I don’t know how to please you. Tell me what I am to you so I can behave accordingly. If I am a slave, I know how to behave. If I am your wife, I know how to behave. But I cannot be both.”

She’s chastising me, and it only makes my mood blacker because…she’s right. I don’t know how to act around her. My plan was to abandon her at a human settlement, but she doesn’t know that, just as she doesn’t know that I’ve changed my mind now that I’ve seen the humans in question. I have to figure out what to do with her. “Where is your family?”

Vali laughs and shakes her head, the sound mirthless. She makes another tight, furious knot in her garment. “Dead and gone. My father was killed years ago and I was sold into slavery. My city was just now razed by Aventine, so there’s no one to send me back to, if that’s what you’re asking. Parness is nothing but stones and burnt fields.”

She’s more observant than I’ve given her credit for. I’m not surprised by her answer, either. While it would have made my life easier to turn her over to family members, I somehow knew there weren’t any. Who would let a young, clever, pretty woman in their family get taken by slavers if they could do anything about it?

Vali makes another knot in the clothing and then jerks it back over her head, shoving her arms through the holes and settling the garment on her body. It’s a terrible fit, the material bunched at her neck and jagged, held together only by the knots she’s made. Her dress is now a great deal shorter, the neckline completely changed thanks to the rips, and yet she’s not demanding a new gown or fretting over the tears. She’s making do with what she has.

Something tells me this is not the first time that Vali has simply made do with scraps.

A dark bead on her bare arm catches my attention. As I watch, a line of blood slides down her skin. It’s not from her nose, which has dried on her upper lip. This is a different cut on the fleshy part of her bicep. “You’re bleeding.”

Her hand goes to her nose and she winces. “Aye. Those cretins hit me. May Vor fill their pants with nothing but sand lice.”

I hold back a snort of amusement at her creative prayer and reach out to touch her arm. “Here, too.”

She glances down at her skin and then gives a quick nod. “I fell on the shells I’d been collecting. Some of them were sharp.”

She’d been collecting shells, like a child. And those men came along and threatened her. I’m filled with rage all over again. Taking the hem of her much-shorter gown, I lift it and use it to wipe at her face, then her arm. “I don’t like that they touched you. Should I go back and murder them?”