Page 45 of Thorns and Echoes

The fallen woman groaned, the disarmed man clutched at his leg, and Anais' victim bled into the dirt. None of them were getting up. Two to six, and the outnumbered slavers were still full of themselves. A fault of their ‘trade’, probably.

Anais lowered her blade. The older man grinned.

“I don't believe you heard the Queen correctly. Slavers are not welcome.”

From the trees behind the duchess, Vern, the wolf, and the guards returned. He flung two round objects to the ground. Two heads rolled.

“The Queen…?” The older man’s eyes widened. He gaped down at his dead companions, then snapped his head up in time to catch the pointed end of a dagger in his eye. His sword fell, his body following a moment after.

The other man dropped to his knees. Hissing in rage, Zara shoved her sword through his stomach. Her wide eyes were the dark green-blue of deep ocean waters as she violently twisted the blade. Screaming, she let go and stumbled back.

The maid had the right of it. Drantar did not tolerate slavers. The Queen proceeded to execute each of them – the woman with fear and pain in her eyes, the man whose leg Jerome had broken, and another the guards brought back.

The Nadraken duchess watched in silence. Perhaps she knew these creatures, purchased from them in the past. Holding her tongue was the best decision she'd made this trip. An owner of slaves was no better than a procurer.

Vern reported that several had escaped, and one of their guards took a crossbow bolt to the thigh. While he made his report, Pelios approached the Nadraken maid.

“Are you hurt?” he asked quietly.

“I'm fine.”

“Are you sure? Let me take a look–”

“I said I'm fine!”

Zara’s voice was too loud. Her cheeks flushed, and she lifted her chin. “Pardon me. I must attend to my lady.”

The rebel tracked her movements. He didn't budge until Jerome ordered him to check on the horses.

When one of the guards mumbled something about female companionship, Pelios snapped that he'd kept his hands to himself – unlike the duchess. That comment, Anais tucked away.

She beckoned Jerome. “We'll send the guards to an outpost. We don't have time to take care of the bodies and injuries.”

Her captain spoke through gritted teeth. “My Queen, we were just attacked.”

“Yes, and a few of them got away. The guards will help divert any rumors of our presence. This is not a discussion. We are leaving them.”

Vern and Jerome exchanged a glance. Neither agreed – but neither did they argue. It would have to do. She knew she couldn't leave either of them behind; they'd simply find her, one way or another. Pelios and his potential connection with rebel sympathizers could stay. The Nadrakens would slow her down, but they might still prove useful.

Six people plus horses skulking across the border – two unwillingly – was not stealthy, no matter what her father said. Someone was bound to see them, report them to the castle, and get Castien killed. Then all she'd have left would be vengeance.

They only rode for another hour. The guards were left with the bodies. At camp that night, the mood was grim. The duchess brooded in silence. Perhaps casual murder had finally convinced her that her life might be in danger.

A short while after the Nadrakens settled into their tent, Anais turned to Pelios. In a low voice, she asked, “What did you mean by that comment about the duchess earlier? She's not keeping her hands to herself?”

The fire cast dark shadows on Pelios’ face. “When did– oh. Yes, I've seen her touching the guards. She wasn't trying to steal a weapon.”

Traveling was normally more relaxing. On the road, between the palace and a noble’s estate, her mask could slip, sometimes disappear altogether. Not on this trip.

From the Nadraken tent came a fit of coughing, then the sound of someone being sick. Harsh, hushed whispering was muddled by the wind.

Then the maid spat, “I'm not pregnant!” and stormed out of the tent, carrying a bundle of cloth.

Anais frowned at the rebel captain.

Pelios grimaced, though not with shame. “We haven't… I don't think she's ever killed anyone before.”

Ah. Zara was a capable hunter, but hunting game wasn't the same as looking a person in the eye and taking their life. And despite Pelios’ protests, he was fond of the girl. He kept glancing toward where she had vanished into the trees.