Page 9

Rígan

The hand was slick around my throat, its salty tang hitting my nose. That’s all I noted before I moved.

I swiped my leg backward to get my assailant off balance, pivoted in his loosened grasp, and kneed him between the legs. He cried out, releasing me as he doubled over.

I shot inside the stables and grabbed my sword, waking the others with a shout. The sun wasn’t quite ready to show itself, and the cloud cover obscured most of the predawn light, but there was enough loud scuffling to alert me of the intruders before their shadows descended on us.

The tinny strike of steel reverberated as I fought one off, the others doing the same. Someone came at me from behind, and I dodged just in time, the bite of their blade slicing through the sleeve of my tunic. I hissed at the acute sting and swung back around, jabbing with my sword.

Feet shuffled, people swore. Lou grunted somewhere to my left while I sent the attacker before me sprawling.

“Take them out!” a deep female voice shouted over the cries of the horses.

She might have kept talking if Thomas hadn’t lunged for her. A faint glimmer of light between the old ceiling’s beams glinted off his sword before it swung. The woman screamed in rage, retaliating. I took a step forward—prepared to help Thomas—but someone stepped in front of me. Based on the limp, he was the one who’d tried to choke me.

Another beam of light caught his dagger as he pointed it at me. “You’ll pay for what you did.”

“What? Never had someone fight back before?”

He thrust his blade toward my midsection. I jumped away and stumbled, my back hitting a post. The sudden jolt jarred my muscles, wind flying from my lungs as a protruding screw caught my shoulder and I dropped my sword, a line of pain snaking down my arm. Dove stomped her hooves in the stall next to me, snorts coming wild and heavy.

My attacker charged, coming too fast for me to reach my sword. I kicked him, trying to create more distance, air slowly coming back to me.

“Rígan!” Maya reached into her boot and threw a dagger. It arced through the air, lodging itself in the post above my head. I grinned and pulled the blade from the wood, slashing it across my attacker’s face. He howled, fumbling as he clutched his cheek, blood seeping through his fingers. He recovered faster than I’d hoped, swiping at me with renewed vigor.

I waited for anger to cloud his judgment, sidestepping and deflecting until he flung his arm wide.

I plunged my dagger into his gut, twisting it home.

He went slack-jawed, fingers working around his dagger’s hilt as though still trying to hurt me. I grabbed it from him, pulling my own from his body, his blood spilling onto my hand. His knees gave way before he slumped to the ground.

From a quick survey, there hadn’t been nearly as many of them as I’d thought. One rushed out the door, the coward of the lot. That left the dying man at my feet, a body in the far corner, and the woman and one man standing with their backs to the wall. Four against two were sad odds, though from their stances—more easily seen in the watery gray light now gracing us—they knew what they were doing.

It was also easier to tell that they were built well, and had quality armor and swords to boot. The man, shorter than the woman by a head, spat in our direction.

Then the light angled itself perfectly, reflecting off the woman’s poisonous glare and the jagged scar along her temple. The woman I’d seen in the tavern the night before. I returned the glare with one of my own, all the while wondering what could have possibly urged her—for she was clearly the leader—to attack us.

Lou lunged and took the man’s feet out from under him, too quick for either attacker to react. The man went down hard, ass bouncing off the floor, his head smacking right after. He didn’t move again.

I bent to retrieve my fallen sword and joined the others in a semicircle around the woman, blades pointed at her chest. Blood and dirt smeared her face, short dark hair clumping in sweaty strands. Her sneer didn’t break, even when Thomas took her sword from her.

“Why did you attack us?” I asked.

The woman stayed silent.

Lou broke formation to retrieve an unfamiliar satchel, the leather strap he swung it by cut and dangling. “This yours?”

“If it is?” she said.

Lou threw the flap back, examining the contents. Despite it being the satchel of a woman of questionable judgment, they took care handling her possessions. They removed a whittled disk, but I couldn’t see what was on it from this distance.

“What is it?” I asked.

Lou frowned. “The Exile symbol.”

Shit. Only rebels carried those. Exiles, we’d heard, bore the symbol more on their weapons and armor, if they deigned to identify themselves at all. I brought my attention back to the woman, assessing her anew.

Had these rebels known to attack us specifically?

“It’s not a mere symbol,” the woman spat. “It’s our crest.”

Biting my tongue, I took the disk from Lou’s outstretched hand. That was definitely the Exile symbol. Two crossed swords, a parody of the Cunlaran crest. The Cunlaran sheaf of wheat not only represented Danna’s past, but peace and prosperity. The Exiles saw it as a sign of submission. Of weakness. Better a second sword than a piece of grain.

Better Balor than Dàibhid.

I shoved the disk back into Lou’s hand, raising my sword higher, nudging where the woman’s artery hid below her shoulder. “Why did you attack us?”

Her eyes gleamed. “It’s my calling.”

“For fuck’s sake,” Maya mumbled.

“I have to agree,” Lou said under their breath. “For fuck’s sake indeed.”

I was inclined to agree, but I couldn’t get past my question. Why make us their target?

The woman narrowed her gaze in pure loathing. “Balor knows we deserve better than that child who calls himself a king, a child from a pathetic line that could have been so much more. Those who won’t see reason don’t deserve Exile mercy.”

I stepped forward, sword nicking the exposed skin of her neck. I was done waiting for an answer. “Why. Did you. Attack us?”

After a moment’s hesitation, her focus shifted to Thomas.

“What about me?” he asked.

“I’ve been to the capital, guard. I know who you work for.”

I stiffened. Shit. If she’d recognized him, knew he worked for Dàibhid, she’d connect us to the throne. And Dàibhid didn’t want that to happen yet.

But this was a golden opportunity to learn something for him. It might not have been part of the plan, but I wouldn’t sneer at it.

“What if we were on your side?” I asked, drawing the blade away ever so slightly. For all she knew, Thomas could be a rebel himself. We all could be. Perhaps I could fool her enough to get something out of her.

“You wouldn’t have gone through all this effort to dispatch us,” she said.

“ You attacked us , and we didn’t see your crest until a moment ago.”

A single moment of doubt passed as her features pinched. But then— “I won’t risk it.”

With my sword no longer pressing against her, she raised her arm and caught me off balance. I pivoted, recovering as my friends tried to force her into a corner. She flung hay at them, giving her enough time to retrieve a dagger. I made it to her first, narrowly avoiding the slash of her blade. She ducked my next thrust, dancing around it and bringing her dagger up. I went to block what I assumed was a blow for me, but cried out when she changed direction and stabbed Maya’s side.

Time froze as I watched Maya fold in on herself, clutching her side when the woman drew the blade free. Red poured forth, coating Maya’s fingers as she put pressure on the wound. It kept pouring, and while I knew it wasn’t possible, I imagined the copper scent of blood clogging my nose. She was bleeding out.

I took a half step toward Maya before catching myself, knowing the threat had to be dealt with first. That brief hesitation—mirrored by Lou—allowed the woman to pivot away from Thomas and grab her sword, holding it in the opposite hand of her dagger. She swung violently, snapping me to attention. Despite three against one, she held her own. I spared another glance at Maya while Thomas pushed the woman back. Maya had tucked herself into a corner, away from the worst of the danger, and held a cloak, the one Lou had used as a blanket, firmly against her side.

Fear turned to anger at the sight of Maya’s blood on the woman’s dagger, and I motioned for Lou to keep distracting the rebel. Thomas followed suit. On quick, silent feet, I darted behind the woman and drove my sword through her back. Her body fell off my blade with a dull thud. So much for getting answers out of her. I toed her with my boot. I doubted she would have proven useful after trying to kill Maya, anyway.

Maya . I dropped my sword and rushed to her side.

Lou beat me there. “Let me see.” They eased the cloak from her wound. It bled freely, though from the looks of it, the dagger hadn’t hit anything vital. It wasn’t as bad as I’d feared.

I breathed a sigh of relief.

“Hurts like the bottom of the Pit,” Maya said through clenched teeth.

“Isn’t that a Faith of Unity thing?” I said. “What are you doing spewing Fenwaldan expressions?” It wasn’t one that slipped from me often, so I wasn’t even sure Maya could claim she’d stolen it from me.

“It is,” she said, letting us fuss over her. I handed Lou a needle and thread from their pack—because of course they’d have some, just in case—while Thomas went to fetch alcohol from the tavern.

“And you said it once.” Ah, so she had stolen it from me. “I liked the ring of it.”

“A perk of being friends with a Glaochnamaran. I’ve got the good Fenwaldan sayings at my disposal.” The lie came out fluently, practiced before I’d even left my father’s castle.

“We’re just a mix of sayings, aren’t we?” Lou teased.

Thomas returned then, bottle of whiskey in hand and worry in his gaze.

I pointed to the bottle. “Save some of that to drink, would you? I think we deserve it after the morning we’ve had so far.”

Lou tsked. “Patient gets first dibs.”

“Damn right.” Maya grabbed the bottle from Thomas before Lou could and took a swig. “Alright, Lou, all yours.”

Thomas crouched next to us. “Our hosts are rather alarmed there’s a young woman bleeding out in their stables.” My cheeks tugged up. Was he trying to distract Maya? “I offered to pay for the whiskey, but they’d have none of it.”

“Bleeding out?” Maya squeaked.

I bit my lips between my teeth. Poor, sweet Thomas.

“Oh—Oh no, I don’t mean—You’ll be fine. I’m sure you’re in good hands.” He stopped blundering when Maya’s mouth pressed into a thin line, her shoulders shaking.

“Stop pranking the nice man, Maya, or you’ll make these good hands waver,” Lou ordered.

“I’m sorry, Thomas,” Maya said, trying to tamp down her shaking. “I had to.”

“You really didn’t,” I said, though it was through a laugh.

“I have to agree with Rígan,” Thomas said. He didn’t look upset, though, more relieved. At least she didn’t scare him off. I liked Thomas. And from that teasing, so did Maya. Neither of us had many friends outside of our trio, and I wouldn’t say no to one like Thomas.

Maya offered a friendlier smile, though it was limned with pain. “I’ll be fine, but thank you for your concern. And thank you for getting the whiskey.”

He tugged at the strands of his half bun. “I need to bring this back to the king.”

I hummed reluctantly.

“What is it?”

“This is the nature of the job, Thomas,” I said. “We knew someone might get hurt.”

“And I’ll be fine,” Maya said, waving away his protests. “We need to push on.”

“After a bit of rest,” Lou said. “You may not be bleeding out, but you were stabbed.”

“Yes, thank you for the reminder.” She winced as he pulled thread through her skin. “But it’s true—this attack was random. It’s not like we were targeted.”

“But they knew me,” Thomas said. “How can I blend in with you if all I do is alert people that you’ve got a royal guard in your company?”

I shrugged. “We’ll figure it out.”

With a skeptical nod, he stalked over to the horses.

With Maya’s injury, we were hesitant to go anywhere until we knew riding a horse wouldn’t split her stitches. We also didn’t want to stay where we were, in case the rebels had friends in the area. We’d found shovels and buried the bodies—the man who’d hit his head must have bled internally, dying shortly after Thomas had killed the woman—in a copse behind the stables.

We were formulating a new travel plan after a breakfast of boiled sausages, warm buttery toast, and roasted hazelnuts when our solution peeked into the stables.

“Mr. Oliver,” Thomas greeted. “What brings you out here?”

The tavern owner was in his sixties, laugh lines in abundance. Some of them showed as he took us in, but they dropped when he looked at Maya. “I wanted to personally apologize for what’s happened.”

“You’re not responsible for rebel comings and goings,” Maya said.

“No, but I should do better inspecting those who come in.” He wrung his hands, and my gut twisted. Closer inspections would put him in too much danger. He was no soldier or sellsword—I’d seen him try to lift a box at dinner, and he’d barely succeeded. How could he defend himself against rebels, let alone defend his patrons? I kept that to myself, though; no need to take that budding hope of a possibility from him.

“I’d also imagine you don’t want to stay,” he said. “Nor do I wish for you to put yourselves in harm’s way. If anyone comes back this way, we’ll deflect them.” He was so determined, but the twisting in my gut doubled. If they hid our location or deflected, the rebels would get angry.

“If we’re gone, they may not do anything,” Lou said. “We’ll pay inside, visibly, and leave. Give them no cause to come sniffing around.”

Mr. Oliver turned red, likely used to being the hospitable and thoughtful one. “In any case, there might be something I forgot to put away out back. Something that would be fine going missing, given the circumstances. I’m so forgetful sometimes, you see. Anything could get stolen, and I’d have no idea until it was too late.”

I quirked a brow at the covert offering.

“Come, my friend.” Mr. Oliver extended an arm to Lou. “Let’s get this sorted.”

The moment they disappeared, I exited the stables and rounded the corner. There, untied and unattended, was a cart big enough for three people to lie in. But we just needed it for one.

Within fifteen minutes, we had Thomas’s horse and Chestnut hitched to the cart, our packs in the back, and Dove and Aonbar saddled and ready.

All that was left was to get Maya in the cart.

I found her still sitting on the stable floor, expression all screwed up. Lou and Thomas stood on either side of her, both looking about as done as possible.

“Why does it look like you’re taking a shit?” I asked Maya. She only tightened her features. Too fast for comfort, she surged to her feet, three pairs of hands flying out to steady her.

She swatted away our attempts. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not,” Lou said.

“I need to walk to the cart.”

“Thomas can carry you,” I said, exasperated enough to volunteer him for the job. He stared her down like he’d offered before I came in.

“I am walking .” Maya took a step and paused for so long I thought she’d forgotten how to walk.

“So Thomas is carrying you to the cart?” I said.

She gritted her teeth and stared resolutely ahead. “Thomas is carrying me to the cart.”

We reached the Fields of Ebher, home to many of Cunlaran’s grain and cattle farms, within half an hour. The sun peeked out between clouds, blowing in a gentle breeze with the crops, the smell of manure wafting toward us. I wrinkled my nose. I hadn’t spent much of my life around farms, and the assault on my senses wasn’t one I anticipated getting used to. But the scene was peaceful, making the smell worth it.

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary—farmers worked the land and drove cattle from one field to the next, paying us little attention. The further in we went, the more it stayed the same despite the proximity to Tàlev’s Keep. When we stopped for the night a little ways in from the road, Maya’s condition forcing us to take this second leg of the journey slower, Chestnut immediately went over to her, sniffing as though making sure her human was alive and well. She didn’t leave Maya’s side all night, and Maya didn’t stop petting Chestnut every moment she got.

Dove, for her part, nosed me in the shoulder so hard while begging for an apple that I almost fell over.

It was the next day that gave us pause.

We set out late in the morning. Unlike the previous day, the sun was hidden, and a light mist settled over everything. I tugged the hood of my cloak up and flexed my hand. Maya had insisted on trying to ride Chestnut, and I’d had to help her into the saddle. She’d stepped incorrectly on my palm. Not that I’d tell her that. It was a miracle she’d even let me help in the first place.

We’d barely made it to the next farm before she almost slid off the saddle. Even Chestnut slowed, noting something wrong. Maya spat at us the entire time, but we’d gotten her back into the cart where she was currently sitting, arms crossed and face sullen. I glanced sideways at her. Her coloring was drained, but she seemed steady enough now that she wasn’t on horseback.

We fell in behind a farmer directing his cattle from one field to another toward a quaint farmhouse. A brown bull sidled up to me as though in greeting, mooed, and kept on.

When Dove tossed her head at the audacity of other animals blocking her path, the farmer glanced back, short black hair changing directions with the wind. “We’ll be out of your way in a moment.”

“Not a problem,” Lou said.