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Fell finally reacted. The first to move, he maneuvered his horse about, declaring with a grim set to his mouth, as though he, too, knew death lurked in that water: “We go west.”

There was a ripple of discontent, a surge of cold air.

Fell’s destrier broke into a trot, his flank muscles undulating beneath his shiny coat as he took the muddy slope that led up from the bank. We all followed him. I hung on to the saddle pommel,the rough jostling assaulting my body and bringing a wet sob to my throat. I bit my lip, swallowing the sound, determined not to reveal my agony.

Fell never bothered to ask after my well-being. Perhaps if he did, I would tell him. I would say:I am not well. My well-being is not... well.

But I had promised to learn this new life, and learning meant... enduring.

A quick glance around at my traveling companions revealed mild and unaffected faces. No one else seemed the least bit uncomfortable or pained from the grueling pace, so I would pretend the same.

I would die before uttering a complaint.

I WAS DYING.

I clenched my teeth to keep from crying out when my mare hit a rut in the path that bounced me in the saddle. My eyes stung. It was worse than any thrashing I’d ever suffered at the hands of the lord chamberlain. Those abuses were always fleeting and easy to get past, but this was unremitting. Ceaseless. A burning, unrelenting torment. Pain layering upon pain upon pain so that there was never any relief, never any time for my skin to properly heal. Fortunately the rain had stopped, and I was finally dry. That was one misery no longer plaguing me.

Each night I fell asleep the moment I hit my bedroll. I could scarcely be bothered to eat anymore. Just a few mouthfuls to appease Mari, and then I was falling like a boneless rag doll onto my bedroll. The demand for rest won out over food.

Unfortunately, it felt as though I was nudged awake as soon as my eyes closed. All those afflicted areas screamed in protest during my stiff movements, but I dutifully dragged myself back on top of my mare each morning.

Three days after we left the river behind, we stopped near a stream to water the horses and take a small repast. When we dismounted, I slid down onto the ground and my legs betrayed me, crumpling like brittle leaves.

I collapsed in an undignified heap, unable to move. I blinkedup at the puffy white clouds drifting across the bright blue sky, grimly accepting that this would be where I died. A good enough place. I couldn’t stand, and I didn’t care anymore. I could no longer pretend.

My view of the sky was suddenly blocked by a great shadow. Fell peered down at me, asking in a gravelly voice, “Are you hurt?”

I snorted. “Allof me is hurt.”

At this point it seemed fair to complain. I was dead... or very well on my way to death. Certainly, I was unable to get to my feet, and there was no way I could get back on that mare. Fell and the others might as well know the truth of the situation.

Fell reached down and grasped my arms, hauling me to my feet in one move, as though I weighed nothing at all. A cry escaped me at the sudden motion before I swallowed it back with a whimper. My head lolled on my shoulders as pain lanced through me so intensely I saw spots.

His hands flexed upon my arms, giving me a slight shake so that my gaze snapped to his. “What ails you?”

“My... uh... lower half is not quite accustomed to this.” I didn’t know a more delicate way to phrase it.

“I thought you said you ride,” he said accusingly.

“I knowhowto ride. An outing here and there. An hour at the most.” Trips longer than that called for a carriage.

He closed his eyes in one long-suffering blink. “Fuck.” Opening them, his cool gray eyes swept over me. “Can you walk at all?”

“Of course.” I took a staggering step forward as though I could prove it. My knees gave out. I was on my way down when he caught me. One of his arms went under my knees and another around my back. “Ah!” My hands flew to his shoulders, my palm with the carved X at once sparking and tingling when it made contact with him. It was a strange contradiction—that enlivening heat there while the rest of me throbbed like one great wound. “What are you—”

“Make camp,” he commanded in a biting voice to his warriors, ignoring me.

It was then I observed that we had gathered quite the audience. They hesitated, swapping glances.

Arkin stepped forward with a belligerent swagger. “We’ve half a day of good riding left—”

“You heard me. Set up camp.” Fell nodded at the closest two warriors. “Vidar, Magnus, put up a tent.”

The two warriors scurried off to do his bidding.

Arkin aimed a scowl at me. “Forher,” he sneered, and I flinched. “We’re stopping for her. She’s weak and slowing us down. We might as well have let the brigands keep her, for all the trouble—”

Fell held up a single finger. “I’ll not hear another word about her from your lips.” His voice rumbled up from his chest and vibrated against me.