Page 82 of Kingdom of Chains

‘You need to let her go,’ Ita called to him. ‘I know it’s scary, but if it keeps a few more people alive, then it’ll be worth it.’

Blackmane pressed his teeth together. ‘He nearly killed her.’

‘And now she knows what he’s capable of,’ Ita replied. ‘She’s smarter and stronger than you think. We’re all here for the same reason—to save lives.’ She paused. ‘Let her do her part.’

Blackmane shook his head repeatedly, eyes going to Tatum.

The commander nodded once. ‘It was her choice to go.’

How was he expected to do nothing when her scent remained on his skin, the memory of her arched beneath him barely a few hours old? But Tatum was right. It was her choice, and he had to respect it.

He exhaled long and hard, then dismounted, walking circles for a minute. His feet stopped, and he looked at the others. ‘All right. You have until the end of the day tomorrow to get her out, or I’m going in.’

Tatum rubbed his forehead. ‘I guess we’re staying another day.’

CHAPTER 25

Isabel returned to the area where they had cut Yvaine down, waiting amid the dead for somebody from the camp to arrive. She did not have to wait long. A pair of guards appeared minutes later, a horse trailing behind them with a dead man bound to its back. He was number five. Five people were dead simply because Hodge refused to be separated from her.

‘Well, well, well,’ said one of the guards. ‘Who do we have here?’

She raised her chin. ‘I think you know who I am. Now, escort me back to the camp so this insanity can stop.’

The other guard chuckled. ‘On your horse, then. We don’t have much light left.’

She did as she was told. ‘How do we get word to His Lordship that I am on my way so no more people die?’

‘We don’t,’ the second man said.

The guards proceeded to escort her to the camp, barely speaking throughout the journey. Isabel felt sicker with every passing hour.

It was dark when they finally arrived, and two torches burned either side of the gate.

‘Incoming!’ called out one of the guards as they neared the entrance to the camp.

A moment later, Isabel heard the scrape of the drawbar being removed, and the gate split down the middle. They opened it wide enough for the horses to slip through before immediately closing behind them.

‘Tell the executioner that Lady Isabel is here,’ the man said to the guard inside.

Isabel stopped her horse and asked the man, ‘How many dead?’

He looked her up and down before replying. ‘Eight.’

She gripped the pommel of the saddle. ‘Eight?’ Three more people had died waiting for her to arrive.

The drawbar slid back into place behind her, and she followed the waiting guards. She was aware of the prisoners watching her as she made her way to the tents at the back of the camp but did not dare look in their direction. She was too afraid of what she might see on their faces. They knew exactly who she was and what had taken place in her absence.

Hodge emerged from his tent when he heard the horses, eyes locking on her. She had no idea what to expect from him, whether he would be beside himself with remorse or lost in his own rage. His eyes moved slowly over her, taking in her appearance from head to toe.

‘What on earth are you wearing?’ he asked, sounding almost repulsed. ‘You look like an absolute peasant.’

She had given no thought to what she was wearing or how he would react to seeing her dressed like a wastelander. Of course he would not like it. He had tried so hard to erase that part of her. She did not bother replying.

He walked over to her horse, offering his hand. She stared down at it, feeling disgust at the thought of touching him. But this was the choice she had made, to return to him, to appeasehim until the gate was opened for all to leave. She could make this hard or easy on herself. So she took his hand and dismounted.

When her feet touched the ground, Hodge turned her to face him, looking deep into her eyes. ‘Your actions have driven me to places I never thought I would go. I did what I had to. I hope you understand that.’

Again, she said nothing.