My eyes nearly bulge out of my head. I’ve seen this man before.
I squint, trying to make sure the haze isn’t messing with my sight. Even though he’s not garbed in the clothing of a nobleman, there’s no doubt. It’s Lord Conklin, a Malamian with a fiefdom around the border town of Fennit.
Could it be another Spiriter identity trick? Like how Rori was able to fool anyone she passed in Shaerdan, so they thought she was Phelia?
“What’s the plan?” Finn moves beside me, his voice a speck over a whisper.
I shake my head, baffled. I need answers. “See the older man.” I point him out to Lirra and Finn. “Whatever happens, keep him alive.”
Lirra raises her brows.
“He’s a lord in Malam.”
“No way,” Finn blurts, and then smacks his hand over his mouth when he realizes he didn’t whisper.
The men are too busy pissing on the fronds around the thick tree trunks to notice us.
“Should we move in closer to see if there are any girls with them?” Finn asks.
Before I can answer, a female voice from inside the carriage cries, “Please let us go!”
Lirra meets my eye, hand on her blade. I notice she doesn’t carry a bow and arrow like Britta. If it were this easy for me to find them, I’ve no doubt that woodsman fool and the townsmen he’s managed to gather will be upon us in no time.
One of the guards yanks the door open, reaches in, and withdraws a young black-haired girl. I stare at her, my heartbeat banging in my chest with a fierce need to protect her. She cannot be older than thirteen, my sister’s age.
I watch as he jerks her around like a cloth doll. Bloody seeds, I want to kill him now. I could loose an arrow and drop him in an instant. When he backhands her and another two young faces, dirty, tear-stained, and colorless, peer out the door, I cannot watch any longer.
I lift my bow and loose an arrow. It hits him between the ribs. The man drops, and the girl falls to the side, her knees crashing into the dirt.
Only now I have the attention of the other men. A sick sack of a man has a girl in front of him, using her as a shield. Another has a sword drawn, and he’s hunkered down by the carriage. A third fellow has his bow up, arrow aimed at Finn. Right as I notice this, the man releases the arrow and it sails straight at my brother.
Panic rips through my chest. I yell Finn’s name. Move, Finn.
He leaps to the side. Thank the gods. I rush to him and shield us behind a tree. He winces. Red stains the left side of his tunic, a bloody blossom that grows with each beat of his heart.
“Finn,” I bark. “You all right?” My voice is too harsh. I thought it missed, but he’s bleeding. Gods, why is he bleeding?
“Must’ve grazed me.”
He lifts his tunic for me to see a scrape along his ribs. If he hadn’t moved, that arrow would’ve pierced him through the heart instead of taking a chunk of skin from his side. Blood drips steadily from the slice. It’ll have to be cleaned. Stitched.
I clench his tunic in a fist and let it drop. He could’ve just died. My kid brother.
“Stay back,” I tell him.
“What? No, I’m coming with you.”
I connect gazes with Lirra, who’s also hunkered behind a tree, and give her a signal before turning back to Finn. “Keep pressure on the wound. And stay low. I want you to keep out of this. Hear me?”
He shakes his head, but there’s no time to listen to his argument. I’m sure he’s disappointed, but this isn’t another learning opportunity. His life is on the line. I need to keep him safe.
Readying an arrow, I motion to Lirra and dart around the tree, headed for the next one that’ll give good coverage and bring me closer to Lord Conklin and his group of traitors.
Two arrows fly right past my head. The guy’s a quick shot, but my movements are too erratic for him to keep up.
I shoot one back at him. It misses, but it takes his attention away from Lirra, giving her a chance to get a dozen paces closer to them than I am currently. She’s half the distance to the carriage. A dozen more paces and she’ll be upon them.
Providing another distraction, I shoot two arrows into the side of the carriage, knowing it won’t go through the panel. The girls inside start screaming. The man using the black-haired girl as a shield edges back toward the carriage, while Lord Conklin stays out of sight behind the horses. My third arrow is aimed at the archer, but again it misses because his eye is trained on my movement.
He doesn’t see Lirra sneak up until her blade is thrust between his ribs. Lirra pulls her blade out, swipes it on the fallen man’s tunic, and turns toward the remaining men. I stare at her, shocked by the ease of her brutality. Fighting and survival are a part of my job. Though Britta was trained alongside me, it was always hard for her to stomach death. Even while hunting, she’d offer a prayer of thanks to any prey she took down, always mindful and grateful for the life around her. But Lirra, she’s killed men before. The effortlessness in her movements proves as much. Maybe that’s what it takes to be the Archtraitor’s daughter.
Since the remaining two men aren’t armed with a bow, I move in. Lirra’s switched blades to a long sword, holding it out at the man hiding behind the young girl. “Let the girls go, and I’ll spare your life.”
The man spits on the ground.
Thunder rocks the forest. It’s the sound of at least a half-dozen horses. The man hears it and shoves the girl forward before he darts behind the carriage. The girl stumbles over her feet and crashes into Lirra. Both girls trip back.
The man jumps into the seat and the carriage takes off. Lord Conklin must’ve entered the carriage on the other side, because he’s nowhere in sight. I watch them splatter mud as they drive away quicker than any of us can follow without our horses. I want to spit a slew of curses. How many more girls were in that carriage? What is Lord Conklin going to do with them?
Bloody seeds and stars.
Now it’s just me, Lirra, the young girl, and the pounding of hooves drawing closer.
“We have to get out of here,” I yell, rushing back to Finn’s side. With Finn down, I don’t want a standoff against half a dozen Shaerdanian men—even if they’re a local ragtag group of men. They’ll be able to see through Finn’s awful Shaerdanian lilt before he finishes saying his first word. We’re dead men if we stay here.
“What about her?” Lirra has her arm around the girl’s shoulders.
I glance back at the trees where birds are taking flight. “Bring her. Hurry.”
Lirra rushes the girl forward, and the four of us dash northward. I whistle for the horses and pray to every god that hasn’t forsaken me that the Shaerdanians won’t follow our tracks. That they’ll keep on the carriage trail leading east. We’re two Malamian men with two Shaerdanian girls. No matter what the girls say on our behalf, no kinsman with his blood up would believe their story.
Finn winces with each jostle from the horse, and the young girl silently sobs as we stay on a due east course, hoping like hell we’re riding toward freedom.
Chapter
11
Aodren