Page 32 of Silverbow (The Godsung Saga #1)

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Oryn

T he girl blinked at the ceiling, her brow furrowed.

In the next heartbeat, she scrambled up, pressing her back into the wall, her eyes darting wildly around the room.

Recognition flickered as she took in his companions, but her look turned calculating as she eyed her belt knife sitting on the side table.

Emerald eyes darted between him, the knife, and the door behind him. Great.

The room was crowded with all of them in it.

Oryn could have done without Bade and Aiden hunched over the little table, but they had insisted.

Seeing as they were the ones to retrieve her, and seeing Aiden took a wound for it, Oryn gave in.

Colm leaned casually against the wall, his arms folded as he studied the girl.

The stool Oryn sat atop beside the bed was too small for his broad frame, but it was better than being left to loom over her.

“I’m sorry we had to knock you out,” he offered.

“I’m not,” Bade growled.

Oryn hadn’t been terribly surprised to learn the horse lord’s daughter put up a fight, but it had been a surprise to see Bade marching up the street with her limp form thrown over his shoulder.

Even more surprising was the split lip he was sporting.

Aiden grinned despite the blood soaking his coat from a knife wound to his shoulder.

He had scuffled with some of the men who had chased her through Trowbridge, providing a distraction for Bade’s retreat .

“Next time you want to adopt a stray, perhaps find one that doesn’t bite ,“ he added.

The gold amongst the emerald in her eyes seemed to flash as they turned toward the other blademaster. “I will not be manhandled ,“ she hissed.

Oryn blinked at her, taken aback by the outrage strong enough to punch through in her scent. Most shrank before Bade Bandone’s granite gaze, but she showed nothing but unfiltered anger so palpable, it seemed to occupy space in the room.

For a girl on the run, she looked well enough.

Her face was thinner and more haggard than when he’d last seen her.

Dark circles under her eyes confirmed Colm’s notion that she hadn’t been sleeping and Bade hadn’t known how she’d come by the lash under her eye that was still oozing blood, the metallic tang of it filling the room.

But all in all, for being alone on the road, he’d expected worse.

Mosphaera, thank the blessed gods, seemed to be settled. As soon as he’d neared enough to hear the strange hum he’d first heard at Ryerson House, his gifts had gone quiet, returning to their usual place deep in his chest.

Bade finally shifted his glare to Oryn. It was a look that demanded answers.

The girl dropped her gaze to the things piled neatly on the bedside table: her belt knife, a stack of coins, two jars of lamp oil, flint and steel.

Her hand flexed toward where the pocket of her cloak would be, but her eyes found it hanging on the peg behind Oryn.

“You’re bounty hunters,” she said, still staring at the cloak. That too caught him by surprise. Of little consequence Ryerson House might be, but it was well connected to ferret out what they had been about in Westforks.

“Very astute,” Aiden grinned.

A muscle in her jaw ticked. It was the only warning she gave before she dove for the belt knife. Oryn was faster, springing from the stool to snatch her wrist. She jerked against his hold, and he caught the other fist that swung toward his jaw. Bade chuckled darkly as she struggled against him.

“Let me go,” she hissed.

“It’s considered rather rude to stab people who are trying to help you.”

“Help me?” She seethed. “Is that what you call this?”

“Yes,” Oryn bit out as she swung a booted foot in his direction. Gods above. “If we wanted to turn you in, we’d have taken you straight to the outpost.”

She stilled, her gaze locked on his face.

There was no flutter of her heart or pink creeping into her cheeks as there had been at Ryerson House.

There was only cold, murderous rage. Tentatively, unsure if she would relent, Oryn let go of one wrist. When she let the hand drop to her lap, he released the other.

She backed away slowly, folding her knees into her chest as she shrank against the wall.

“You turned out my pockets,” she accused.

“I did.”

Lines of confusion were etched into her brow. “And that’s helping me?”

“It is,” Oryn answered without explanation. She carried nothing that would explain what Ralenet wanted with her, or more importantly, nothing that would land them in hot water if one of Davolier’s men demand they turn out their pockets.

“You had no right.”

“Actually, you have no rights. Or hadn’t you noticed there is a bounty on your head?”

She opened her mouth to argue and then promptly closed it. Colm, ever the gentleman, crossed to the table and poured a cup of tea. He reached around Oryn to press it into her hands. She accepted the cup, but she eyed the contents warily. Oryn wondered if he would be dodging a teacup next.

“We wouldn’t poison you, Miss Ryerson,” Colm said.

Bade huffed a laugh as she reluctantly inched closer to where he perched on the stool to slide it onto the rickety side table. He supposed that was better than the alternative. Sighing, he picked up the cup and took a swallow. “It’s only tea. ”

“Don’t your kind have superior healing or something? How do I know you aren’t immune ?”

Oryn stared at her. They did in fact have superior healing abilities, but poisons were still poisons. Colm, gods bless him, didn’t miss the opportunity to peel back her words and examine them more closely.

“Which of your people knew us?” He asked. As none of them had inherited the pointed elven ears, it was unlikely a girl from outside Westforks would recognize a demi-elf.

Her head turned slowly toward the spirit wielder, but she kept her eyes fixed on Oryn. “Does it matter?”

“We’re asking the questions right now,” Oryn said.

The girl sneered at him. “Because that’s helping ?”

“I offered you an escort to sanctuary,” he reminded her.

“Miss Ryerson,” Colm cut in. “We are bounty hunters, it is true, but-”

“But what?” She snapped. “Are you afraid I’d tell them you’re gifted too? How else would you know? How would they?”

It wasn’t an unexpected leap to assume a demi-elf was gifted, most were, and they were just as susceptible to those abominable artifacts as mortal men, but the girl had it all wrong.

Silence stretched for a beat as emerald eyes circuited the room again.

The wretch was still plotting her escape.

Surely she had to realize she didn’t have a chance against four demi-elves, but she seemed bold enough to try anyway.

“Ought to put her back where we found her. Let nature run its course,” Bade growled.

“I like her,” Aiden pipped.

That wasn’t a surprise. He had said as much before Oryn knocked him off his horse. The girl’s scowl took in both men.

“Neither of you are helping,” Colm sighed. “Miss Ryerson, perhaps we should start over.”

“Start over?” Her rage seemed to spike.

Oryn squeezed his eyes shut as his gifts stirred in answer. Not again.

“Does your kind have the ability to turn back time? Because before you came to Ryerson House, everything was fine . And now…“ She swallowed audibly.

“You are mistaken,” Colm said gently. “We did not divulge your secret. To anyone.”

The anger faltered, and she shifted uncomfortably on the bed, wrapping her arms around her shins as if she could make herself smaller. The barest oily tendril of fear crept into her scent. Oryn furrowed his brow, trying to piece together what had suddenly triggered it.

“Small,” she muttered, almost inaudibly to even his ear.

Small? Oryn blinked.

“It wasn’t us who tipped off Peytar Ralenet.”

Still, she rocked slightly, her face scrunching. “Do you…think…could…could you open the window?”

“Why? So you can try to jump out of it?” Bade asked.

“I…I…”

Colm darted forward and wrenched the window open, muttering his realization. “She’s claustrophobic. ”

That was interesting. Not particularly helpful or relevant unless they decided to torture answers from her by shoving her into a broom closet, but if she kept eyeing that knife like she wanted to plunge it into his chest...

Her eyes fluttered closed as she drew slow breaths of the damp river air that drifted in.

He found himself studying the lash that split her cheek just below her eye.

The lid was starting to swell. It had to be painful, but she hadn’t so much as raised a hand to it, likely out of some stubborn mortal pride.

When she opened her eyes, they fell on the rough hewn carving he’d been turning over in his hands. The rage roared back to life, obliterating the fear.

“Give it back,” she hissed.

He quirked a brow and held up the little horse head. “What is it?”

“It’s mine.”

“It’s important to you,” he mused. “Answer our questions, and I’ll give it back.”

She looked at him with stone cold hatred. “And if I don’t?”

Oryn shrugged. “You’re coming with us one way or another. How you make the trip is up to you.”

“Why?”

Bade huffed, a sound that grated on Oryn’s waning patience. “Answer the questions, and perhaps I’ll tell you.”

“Who recognized us?” Colm asked again.

Oryn was half surprised she answered. “My father. Or the Master of Arms. I don’t know. Both, I think.”

“The old man with the vow mark?” Oryn asked. She nodded. “Where did he get that?”

“I don’t know.”

“Where in your line did the godsung gift come from?”

“I don’t know.”

“What does Peytar Ralenet want with you?”

“I don’t know.”

Colm darted a look toward Oryn. He’d seen it too – that slight narrowing of her eye. It wasn’t a lie, exactly, but there was something she wasn’t telling them.

“Do you expect me to believe you are the most ignorant woman in Estryia?” He asked coolly.

Rage contorted her features. “I left before the High Lord came calling. I don’t know what he wants. ”

“What do you mean you left?”