A Soul for Vengeance

Chapter 8



He was watching her again.

Zara kept her head forward, her back straight, but she couldn’t escape the burning sensation of Kell’s eyes on her. It was as though he was pulling her apart, layer by layer, to expose her weaknesses. But she wouldn’t give him a chance. She turned around in her saddle and snapped, “What?”

His eyes widened and his lips parted in mock innocence. “What do you mean?”

She tugged on the reins until her horse was alongside the wagon. “Why are you staring at me?”

“Who says I’m staring?” He gave her a charming grin that had cost more than one of the court’s ladies her virtue before the Thallians invaded. “Perhaps I’m just admiring the view.”

She glanced down at her backside, her cheeks growing uncomfortably warm. “I know you’ve been hard up for a woman’s company since you left your yellow-haired witch behind in Gravaria, but I need you to get your mind out of your pants and keep an eye out for any Thallian soldiers.”

Parros choked on a fit of laughter, disguising it under a cough when Kell glared at him.

“You don’t need to worry about me having those kinds of thoughts about you, Zara.” He pointed to the eye she’d blackened years ago. “I already know how you respond to my advances.”

An odd weight of disappointment flopped in her stomach. It’s not that she expected him to have any amorous thoughts about her, especially since she was his best friend’s little sister. But still, she would’ve liked to have received a compliment or known that he appreciated her femininity. Bitter laughter rang through her mind, though, as she looked down at her clothing. Leather breeches, leather jerkin that had been fashioned into a modified bodice, coarse woolen shirt. Even her hands were chapped and calloused under her sturdy leather gloves. Any traces of her femininity had vanished the moment the Thallians invaded and stolen it.

She glanced back and caught him staring at her again. This time, however, the charming princely grin gave way to a slow, easy smile of approval. Whatever she was doing that captured his attention, she was doing well.

That did nothing to cool the fire in her blood.

The warbling notes of a birdsong came from down the road, and ice shot through her veins, freezing her progress. The cart beside her also stopped as Parros listened with her. The same notes floated on the breeze again, and panic quickened the beating of her heart. Thallian soldiers had been spotted. “Get off the road,” she ordered.

Parros turned the cart and headed for a patch of thick, snow-covered evergreens. Zara lingered on the road, loading her crossbow and watching for any movement. The man she’d sent to scout ahead appeared over the crest. He was breathing as hard as his horse by the time he reached her. “Slave transport.”

Her gut wrenched. “How many soldiers?”

“Counted at least a dozen.”

She swore under her breath and jumped from her horse. “Get behind the trees before they see us.”

They led their horses to where the rest of the group had gathered around the cart. The trees provided some protection from the road, but only at certain angles. “Parros, try to position the cart here so we can hide the prince behind it.”

“I’m not hiding anywhere.” Kell stood beside the cart, his sword drawn. “If we’re being attacked, I want to fight with you, not cower behind the wheels.”

I don’t have time for this. She grabbed Kell’s arm and yanked him down into the snow beside her. “We’re trying our best to avoid an attack, so shut up and do as I say.”

Once Parros had the cart in place, he joined them behind the bank. “Did I hear a dozen?”

She looked to the scout, who nodded.

Parros drew his sword. If the Thallians wanted trouble, they’d get it.

Zara’s pulse pounded in her ears, so at war with the calm steadiness of her trigger finger. She peered through the branches at the road, one hand on Kell’s shoulder, and waited.

The sounds of clopping hooves and squeaking wheels came closer. Four Thallian guards rode in front of the transport. A set of guards rode beside each of the three wagons, all packed with dead-eyed Ranellians. Two more guards brought up the rear.

Zara struggled to keep her temper in check as she watched them pass. Her finger curled around the trigger of her crossbow, but she didn’t pull. Instead, she dug her fingers into Kell’s shoulder and pressed him down behind the bank.

“What’s going on?” he whispered.

“The Thallians are taking our people to one of their workhouses,” one her men replied. “They’ll work them until they keel over dead.”

Zara closed her eyes and took a deep breath. It would be so easy to surprise them. So easy to take out the guards before they knew what hit them and free her people. She raised her crossbow, already envisioning her target.

“Don’t even think about it,” Parros warned.

She opened her eyes and met his gaze. The old knight knew her better than she thought. “Why not?”

“There’s just twelve of them,” one of the other men replied. “We’ve faced worse odds before.”

“Yes, but we didn’t have such a precious cargo at that time.” He pointed to Kell and turned his attention back to the road.

Zara looked at Kell, then at the last wagon full of Ranellians destined to become slaves. Her heart ached at the decision she was forced to make. All the men focused on her, waiting for her signal. She unwound her finger from the trigger and lowered her crossbow. Yes, those people would suffer because of her choice, but in the end, she’d hopefully save more lives by protecting the one beside her. “Parros is right. Remember our mission.”

Her eyes stung, so she closed them again and waited until the last creak of the slave wagons faded down the road.

Parros squeezed her hand. “You made the right choice, m’lady.”

She cast one more glance at Kell. If he failed to become the leader they needed him to be, then she’d risked everything on a fool’s dream. “I hope so.”

Later that night, Kell crouched beside her at the fire. “Can you please explain what happened today?”

There was no sarcasm in his voice, no sneer in his tone, no arrogance in his question. Just confusion and a shared sense of loss.

“Ever since the Thallians conquered Ranello, they’ve been rounding up our people and sending them to work in these—” She shuddered, trying to find the right word to describe the horrors she’d witnessed. “Hellholes. They’re forced to do everything from mill flower to weave cloth and sew clothes to build the Thallian war machines. Their days are long, their conditions deplorable, and their needs neglected. The Thallians work them until they drop and then replace them with another slave.”

Kell wove his fingers together, his gaze locked on the dancing flames rather than on her. “One of the men mentioned that you’ve been against worse odds—what did he mean?”

Zara hesitated. Her mission was to bring him back to the camp. From there, her brother could fill Kell in on all the sordid details of the Thallian conquest, all the casualties suffered, all the odds that made their rebellion teeter on suicide. But he still deserved to know what was already in place. “Things have changed since you left, Kell. You’re used to riding into battle surrounded by thousands of men, but that no longer is feasible. Our numbers have diminished, and we cannot take the Thallians head on—not with their magic and their war machines. We’re reduced to ambushes, surprise attacks and raiding parties.”

A muscle rippled along his jaw. “In other words, we’re outlaws.”

The irony of his assessment struck her as funny, and a bitter laugh broke free from her lips. “That’s one way to put it. Had this been any other day, I would’ve ordered the men to attack the soldiers and hopefully free those people.”

“Why didn’t you?”

She stared directly at him and said nothing.

He met her gaze for a moment before looking away. “I meant what I said about wanting to fight, Zara.”

“And I believe you, Kell, but everything in due time. We now have a leader to gather our forces around, but we need a plan to go with it if we’re to be successful.”

“And you need me to become that leader.” He tumbled his thumbs over each other, his voice far more serious than she’d ever heard. “And what if I suggested we focus our attacks on these workhouses to free our people and add them to our forces?”

“I wish it was as simple as that.”

“Why not?”

The scar along her stomach throbbed. She hugged her knees to her chest to soothe it. “On the outside, it does look simple. The Thallian keep our people there with minimal guards and without any chains. They don’t need them as long as they have the nightmare dust.”

“Nightmare dust?”

“The Thallians call it kokalla. It’s a powder they add to meager food and drink they offer their slaves.”

He stopped rolling his thumbs and pressed them together against his fingers. “And what does it do?”

“Nothing when taken every day. Taking it’s not the problem. It’s going without it. Once the nightmare dust gets into your system, the clock begins ticking. Go more than one day without it, and the withdrawals set in. It can vary from nightmares to vivid hallucinations to people outright killing themselves to escape the agony.”

Kell’s fingers blanched, and that muscle along his jaw rippled again. He was probably remembering his own withdrawals from the kokalla powder. “Is there an antidote?”

She shook her head, wishing it was as simple as that. “The only thing we can do is keep them safe until the withdrawals cease. It can take anywhere from one to five days, depending on how long the person’s been on the kokalla and how much they’ve ingested. But so many of the slaves fear the nightmares that they’d rather stay imprisoned by the Thallian and escape than enter withdrawals.”

Several minutes passed before Kell spoke. “You’re right, Zara, I don’t recognize the Ranello I’ve come home to, but that doesn’t mean I have to accept it.”

“Then have patience. Bynn will be able to tell you much more than I will.”

“How much farther until we get to him?”

“Three, maybe four more days, depending on the weather.” She pulled her blanket around her legs. “Then, once I have you back in the camp, and I can go back to doing what I do best.”

A wry grin cracked his serious façade. “And what’s that?”

“Giving the Thallians one small headache after another.”