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“It might be faster if I walked.”

His humour made her smile. The Erseg horses were of a higher quality than the Saltar breed and were highly sought after by the other tribes for their stamina and build. “Suit yourself.”

Though it was dark, it did not take long to find the pile of bodies. A couple of wolves lurked nearby and Shuree shot them.

“We should go,” Tegusken whispered, casting a fearful glance at Dagar. “This is a trick. They won’t let us go.”

“I will see my father returned to his land,” Shuree said. “If you wish to go, you may take one of the horses and ride home.”

Yesugen clucked her tongue. “We will help. You cannot lift the bodies by yourself.”

The smell of dead flesh reached them and Shuree gagged. She hadn’t considered that the bodies had been in the sun all day. She gritted her teeth, glad of the dark. “Tie your sash over your nose.” It might help a little.

She dismounted and studied the pile. Her skin prickled as she made out an arm or a leg sticking out. Her brothers and father were there. Her knees buckled and she fought to stay standing. Grief battered her and she took a moment so she could speak calmly. “Yesugen, can you take the feet?” She wanted to be gone from here as soon as possible.

Tegusken vomited nearby and her sobs were loud in the night. “Tegusken, move upwind until you can’t smell it anymore.” She would be of no use, but Shuree envied that she didn’t have to stay here with this.

She picked up the cold, stiff shoulders of the nearest man, refusing to examine the body. She didn’t want to see who it was. Yesugen took the feet. “On the count of three.” She counted and they lifted, but Yesugen struggled with the weight. They managed to heft the body into the back, but it wasn’t easy. At least she didn’t have to worry about hurting them.

Yesugen bent over, panting. At this rate, it would take them hours to lift the remaining twenty-two bodies.

“Let me help.” Dagar’s deep voice startled her. She’d forgotten he was there.

“Thank you.” She placed a hand on Yesugen’s shoulder. “Join your daughter.” She approached the next body.

“Let me take the shoulders,” Dagar said. “They’re heavier.”

She went to the feet, relieved she wasn’t near their faces. If she saw her family, she wasn’t sure she would be able to keep going.

They worked quickly, lifting body after body into the back of the wagon, and she kept count, to ensure they had them all. Shuree forced herself not to think about what she was doing, to simply lift and carry, breathing through her mouth to avoid the smell. Her muscles ached and it was with relief she reached twenty-two. Only one more to go.

She turned back to the ground and frowned. What was the round lump next to the body?

She moved closer and crouched down, and horror spiked her. A head. Her gaze went to the body and she recognised the cut of the tunic. Her father. She stumbled away and vomited, grief and disgust overwhelming her. She fell to her knees, sobs wracking her body. It wasn’t bad enough that they’d killed him, they’d mutilated him as well. Beheadings were reserved for only the worst crimes and Amar had said their father had been shot.

“Shuree?” Yesugen touched her shoulder.

“It’s Father,” she sobbed. “They cut off his head.”

Yesugen gasped. “Child, I’m so sorry.”

Her chest spasmed and it was almost impossible to get enough air.

“We will ensure he goes to the great steppes in the sky.” Yesugen stroked her back. “Because of you, he will be saved.”

Shuree struggled to inhale slowly. Yesugen was right. She had to take back control, had to finish what she had come here for. It still took her a few minutes before she managed to control her shaking. She wiped the tears from her eyes and stood. With another deep breath, she turned. Dagar stood by the body, waiting for her.

Swallowing hard, she moved over.

“I am very sorry,” he murmured. “I did not know. I will find out who did this and punish them.”

She didn’t respond as fury replaced the grief. It was just as well Dagar had taken her sabre from her because she wanted to pave a path of destruction through the Erseg camp for the way they’d mutilated her father’s body.

“Shuree? Are you ready?”

She jolted at Dagar’s voice and unclenched her fists, taking a moment to calm the anger. Violence wasn’t the answer.

In front of her lay her father. She gritted her teeth and took hold of his legs, lifting him into the wagon. Squeezing her eyes closed to stop the tears from leaking out, she turned back to where the head lay. Carefully she cradled it in her arms, brushing the hair away from his face. They had cut his plait as well, the hair he hadn’t cut since he was a boy, and now it fell loose around his cheeks. Gently she lay her father’s head next to his body. She touched her fingers to her lips and then brushed his cold ones. She would never hear his commanding tones again, never be comforted in his strong arms.