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MAKING CAMP

WREN

T he traveling band around me spend so much of their time chirping and almost singing to each other that it makes it difficult to be miserable, even while surrounded by people who clearly resent my presence.

Hatred sounds different when whistled on the wind, and while it’s obvious from their expressions that I’m not welcome, it’s easier to disregard musical insults.

No one meets my eyes though, and I’ve learned to stare over their heads at the horizon, or just at the neck of my horse.

It’s one thing to ignore hostility, it’s another to provoke it.

I am in a cushioned cage at the moment, and am very certain that if I press at the bars, any comfort, however false, will disappear.

Sighing, I glance quickly at the man beside me, close enough to run a sword through me should I try to bolt, far enough that I can’t reach him without being obvious.

This morning’s escort is not one I’ve had before — his posture is too stiff in the saddle.

I don’t know what any of them look like — any Rider assigned to me always wears a bone helmet, hiding their individual faces as though the ivory masques will protect them from my soul stealing eyes, but I’ve learned some of their ways.

Certain guards have relaxed slightly around me — never friendly, that would be a bridge too far — but less wary.

Today’s deer-faced Rider is tense, however, studiously ignoring my presence while being overly alert at the same time.

It’s almost funny, every little twitch of my fingers causes my current guard’s hands to flex on his reins, his horse chomping on the bit in annoyance with each tightening and releasing.

“Rider, you’re dismissed.” The cool voice behind me has the man knife-straight in an instant, as though he were not already before.

“Commander?” He sounds wary, worried that he’s done something wrong.

“ Flank Commander,” Kylabet replies smoothly, and moves her horse up beside me.

“The BloodLetter has asked me to have a…conversation…with our guest. Thank you for your time.” It’s a dismissal, but a gentle one, and the Rider sketches a sort of bow before dropping back from us, unable to hide his relief.

Kylabet watches him leave, then turns to me, frowning.

Though her face is exposed, no bone covering it, she has it painted in what I am coming to recognize as the way of her people.

A heavily smudged black band stretches across her eyes from temple to temple, dripping down her cheeks, with a single line leading up to her forehead where an angled, multi-lined design is carefully detailed.

“Binder,” she says, exasperation clear in her voice, “I’d appreciate it if you stopped terrorizing my men.” Whatever I was expecting her to say, it wasn’t that.

“I—”

“Don’t, Demon. Just don’t. I saw your wiggling fingers from a city wall away. You hide your face well, but not well enough.”

Forcing my lips not to turn up in response, I stare ahead blankly. “I’m not used to riding, BloodLetter’s sister. Perhaps you mistook anxious movement for something else.”

She snorts in response, barking out a short, sharp laugh. “Perhaps. But if they twitch again and torment any Rider, well. I’m happy to tie your reins to fingerless hands, hmm?”

There is a promise in her words I can’t ignore, so I simply nod. “I shall endeavor to be less distasteful in the future. ”

Raising a single brow, she considers me, clearly amused. “So formal, Binder. You’ll fit well in the walls at least.”

“You have questions for me?” I ask, and she shakes her head.

“Not as such. I just felt pity for the Rider, and it’s an emotion that makes me uncomfortable. I thought it best you and I have a little chat before a new guard takes over. How do you find your stay so far?”

It’s my turn to slip, her inquiry so innocuous I can’t help the grin that flashes across my face before I can control it. “My stay? It’s been lovely, thank you.”

I don’t want to like this woman who would cut off my fingers as easily as she would slice my throat, but in some ways can’t help it.

“Delighted to hear it.” She could not be more dry in her response, and does not seem to require an answer, so we ride in silence for a few minutes. “You have been remarkably little trouble, Binder,” she notes after a time, the barest hint of suspicion flavoring her considering tone.

“I am…used to not being trouble, I suppose, Flank Commander. In the past I’ve found it’s best for my continued health to not be an issue.”

“Mmm. Other than tormenting my Riders, you’ve seemed…less Binder, more barn mouse.”

“I’m nothing if not accommodating, I suppose.” My face doesn’t reflect the wry tone in my voice, and I’m thankful for it because I’m able to keep it emotionless when her attitude changes abruptly, a whip crack from smirking to serious.

“ That is the problem in one, Binder. You are accommodating, and I suspect it isn’t in your nature. Either way, it is not what we’ve been led to expect from your type. I find it disquieting. Curious, yes. But it rings untrue. And I don’t tolerate liars.”

Staring down at my reins, I shrug, suddenly feeling every mile I’ve ridden in every muscle of my body.

“I’m too tired to waste energy on lies. Ask me your questions if you have any.

I’ve already given you my word I’ll answer you as best as I can.

As long as my friends are safe. Are they safe?

” Despite my best efforts, I can’t hide the worry in my question, or the relief in my exhale when she nods .

“I made a promise, Binder. They’re not visiting dignitaries by any means, but they’re fine enough.

Behave, and nothing will happen to either.

” I startle a little, and she smirks. “I told you I would have to find something that scares you. You should be careful of your phrasing in the future.” She mimics my voice uncannily, “‘As long as we travel together’ you said ‘a promise for their safety and protection. That they won’t be harmed or poorly treated, that they’ll have enough to eat, a place to sleep’.

” Shrugging, she smiles at me, a feral edge in the way she clenches her teeth.

“And I will keep to it. But that vow is released the moment they are, so in a way, you should be thankful they are our guests and under my wing. Because if we let them go, well. That is a different matter, isn’t it? ”

Ah. Stupid, stupid Wren. “When can I see them?” Thankfully, the longing in my heart isn’t echoed in my flat voice.

She considers me before replying cryptically, “I suppose that depends on how long you want to guarantee their continued well-being.”

“As long as we are with you, at the very least.”

“Then you’ll have to get used to being away from them, Binder.

There’s no love lost here for you, despite this sort of truce we’ve reached.

If people know they’re important to you, it will make my job markedly more difficult.

Right now they’re barely curiosities. Attached to you, they become something much more significant.

You’ll just have to take my word that they are cared for. ”

“You gave me your blood oath, so I trust you. Though,” I add thoughtfully, “Your word alone would most likely have been enough. I have confidence that you don’t give it lightly.”

Her eyes flare slightly, just enough to show I’ve surprised her in some way, and she’s about to reply when her brother’s deeper voice interrupts our conversation.

“Flank Commander, an odd place to find you.” He’s clearly displeased, and isn’t bothering to hide it. Kylabet’s body tightens to readiness in an instant; this is not an exchange of siblings, but of ranking officer to subordinate.

“The Binder was scaring the children,” Kyla replies almost tentatively, as though testing the waters. Nothing about him changes though, and she nods in understanding, reporting in a more serious voice, “It has been several days, BloodLetter. I thought it best to check in and see how we are faring.”

“And?” he snaps in reply, more impatient than angry.

“And she seems to be well enough for the moment.”

“Mmm.” His reply could mean anything, making me vaguely nervous.

I exist on the edge of a sword’s blade here; Rannoch and Kaden’s existence prevents any reaction on my part, keeping me docile.

Even if they were safely away from here, I don’t know how I would escape in any case.

There is no time I am without a guard, no chance to drift off into the darkness.

And, if threatened, it wouldn’t be me against a single man, but an army, and I don’t know if I have the strength to pull the bones from a hundred bodies or more.

You undersell your ability, Little Keeper.

Lorcan!

Despite the looming presence of the BloodLetter and his sister, Lorcan’s voice saturates me with almost radiant happiness, filling my veins, impossible to conceal. I wanted to anoint him daily now that I have my own tent, but he argued fiercely against it.

We know that time is coming, Wren, he had said. Until then, I will conserve energy, remain silent if you don’t absolutely need me. I will consent to it when necessary without argument if you agree to leave it for now.

So I did, willing to buy his acquiescence with my patience.

It means that I haven’t heard his voice as often, haven’t felt his presence as strongly, and I miss him the way I would miss a limb, the phantom pain of an essential part of you being empty.

If it were entirely up to me, the moment I was given my own tent I would have filled every inch of my thighs with thin filigree lines until no uncut skin remained.

But it is not. Not yet, in any case. So we wait, space between us, until this can be solved.

To hear him now, so unexpectedly, is a gift.

I don’t undersell myself, Protector.