Page 18

CHAPTER 18

L aena cradled a cup of hot tea in her hands, trying to understand how this odd collection of men—and one woman, she noted—had come to be her rescuers. She rested on a fallen log as they milled around the clearing outside the cabin, several of them keeping what seemed like an inordinately careful watch on the woods.

None reentered the cabin. None even glanced toward it, as if by acknowledging the carnage they might cause it to spill out the door and haunt them forever.

She didn’t want to think about it, either.

Nor did she much want to think about Callum, though that seemed impossible after he’d come bursting in to rescue her. When he’d crashed through that door, eyes blazing with rage, her own heart had stuttered with fear. For a moment, anyway.

That was the man she’d read about, the scourge of magic users and lawbreakers. He’d dispatched the two men with merciless ease, and she did not doubt he would have done the same to the woman had she given him a chance.

Had he not been distracted by Laena’s magic.

It was difficult to reconcile that vicious warrior with the man who’d been fussing over her for the last fifteen minutes like a worried matron, since she’d fallen unconscious back in the cabin. He hadn’t left her side since she’d taken a seat in the clearing, no matter that she was feeling much better. Only a little bit shaky.

All right, he was quite a bit handsomer than a worried matron. His dark hair was damp with exertion from the fight, his eyes roving her face every few minutes as if he thought she might break. Yet despite how much he looked at her, he had yet to meet her gaze directly.

Hanging between them, unspoken, was the magic she’d used in the cabin.

He had to know it had been her. It could not have come from anyone else, and she hadn’t done anything to hide it.

Had he taken such pains to rescue her only to arrest her now that he suspected—or knew—what she was? Or would he dispatch her with the same ruthless ease as he had the men in the cabin? It seemed impossible to believe, with the concern drawing lines across his forehead.

She did feel shaky. A burning sensation had taken the place of the cool comfort of her magic, and though it had already begun to fade, it had not eased entirely. It was like she’d inadvertently drawn too close to a fire and stayed there a few seconds too long, allowing the heat to sear her. Only instead of burning the skin, it was burning her inside.

Her hands were still shaking, her breaths a touch too ragged. No wonder Callum was looking at her like she was something fragile.

Or perhaps the concern was for the magic rather than for her safety. Perhaps he only sat next to her now so he could take her by surprise, wrap her wrists in chains, and drag her to the dungeons before her magic had time to revive.

“Don’t worry.” Laena startled as the white-haired man who’d given her the tea chuckled, easing himself down to sit across from her. “A husband’s bound to be worried for his lady now, isn’t he? But there’s no harm done. You’re a courageous one, and that’s a fact.”

Laena blinked, taking a long sip of tea to hide her surprise. It seemed Captain Farrow had been telling stories. Until she knew why, it would probably be wise to play along. “ My husband? Worried?”

“Wouldn’a let us rest until you were safe.” The man laughed again, then patted Callum’s shoulder. “Not been married all that long, have ye? You’ll see how husbands are, good lady. You’ll see.”

Laena looked at Callum, then back at the man. Callum was still avoiding her gaze, his eyes skipping over her face without landing on her eyes. No doubt he’d been concerned for the fate of Aglye’s emissary, for the fate of his mission, not for her personally.

Now, with the magic, she wondered if he would allow her to meet King Hawk at all.

“This,” Callum said, “is Maynard. He agreed to lend his band of…”

“Traveling performers,” Maynard provided.

Callum winced. “He agreed to bring his band of traveling performers when he heard my wife had been taken.”

Maynard’s allies were traveling performers? Well, that made no sense whatsoever. Laena rested her tea in her lap, savoring the comforting warmth of the cup in her hands. The day wasn’t overly cold—it was growing warm, in fact—but she felt the barest shiver of a chill crawling along the inside of her ribcage.

Strange. She rarely felt the cold. Even in that winter of near starvation, it wasn’t the cold that had endangered her. And she never felt it from her magic, either. Was it responding to that heat somehow, the feeling of the burn?

Shaking off her unease as best she could, Laena took the opportunity to look more closely at Maynard and his followers. What would a band of traveling performers be doing out in the woods, with no one to perform for? As long as one didn’t count the forest mice and the birds. Perhaps a deer or two.

No, performers kept to the cities. Or at least to roads with frequent villages or manor houses. But Callum had said there were thieves in the forest, had he not?

Laena let her jaw drop in open surprise. No need to hide it. “You brought bandits to help rescue me?”

Callum winced again.

“We really are traveling performers, good lady,” Maynard protested. “It’s merely that… well, times are hard and all. Not as many lords are wanting to see a play.”

“Not for the prices you charge,” the woman bandit—or performer, or both—said from behind him. As far as Laena could tell, she was the only woman in the group. She’d been pacing restlessly between the trees, peering into the woods every few steps as if she expected an attack at any moment.

Of all of them, the woman looked the most like an actual bandit, clothed in black with a bow propped over her shoulder, a quiver of arrows strapped to her back.

“Now, Gretchen,” Maynard said, “we have to charge what we’re worth, don’t we? I was a court bard, after all.”

“Fifty years ago,” she muttered.

“More like twenty.” Maynard’s knees cracked loudly as he stood. He brushed the dirt from his trousers with careful swipes, though the pants had been patched and repatched many times over. “We’d best be moving on.”

“If you wouldn’t mind, Maynard,” Laena said, “I need just a moment to talk to my husband.”

Maynard bobbed his head and stepped away, shooing the others back as if a few steps would give them true privacy. She supposed it was as much as she could expect, given the circumstances.

She turned her attention to the captain. And still, he did not meet her eye. There was a tick working at the corner of his jaw, his expression so grim she might have thought he’d lost her back there, when in truth he’d saved her life.

Laena ducked her head, forcing Callum to meet her eyes. When he did, the breath caught in her throat. She’d expected him to be guarded with her, careful. Accusatory even.

And truly, a fire did burn behind those ice-chip blue eyes of his. But she did not think it was a fire of accusation. It was a look that seared straight between her ribs, as if to add itself to the band that was creeping its way through her bones.

“Are you well, my lady?” he asked.

She took in his rumpled state, the rip in his shirt where Penn’s dagger had nearly sliced into his body. “I might ask you the same.”

“And yet I am not the one who collapsed.”

“The strain?—”

He touched a hand to her wrist, stopping her mid-sentence. His touch was like fire, and her body responded to it, a shiver working its way up her arm, her spine. “That was no strain, my lady. That was magic.”

“Are you going to arrest me, Captain?”

He traced his finger toward her elbow, wrapping his hand around her forearm and using the grip to draw her closer. His eyes bored into her like hot coals, as if he could see straight to her heart. “I should arrest you,” he said. “If I had any sense, you would be in chains by now.”

Laena’s throat was dry. “But?”

His gaze dropped to her lips, lingering there. “But you saved my life.”

She had. The memory of that dagger poised to dig into his gut was still potent, the panic recent enough to claw at her chest. To save his life, she would have done it again. A hundred times.

She wanted to touch him. She wanted to explain, only she didn’t know where to start. She had no clue what her magic was, only that it existed. Only that she had caused no one pain to procure it.

“It’s not a heart-tithe, Captain,” she whispered. “I swear it.”

“Then what is it?” His voice was low and rough, like a warning.

She swallowed. “I don’t know.”

She wasn’t sure if he would accept that. Would she, in his place?

“It’s hurting you.”

She blinked, surprised. That was not what she’d expected. Not from the man who was the scourge of heart-tithers, the legendary captain who hated magic above all else. He’d seen her use a power that was unknown in the Vales as far as she’d ever heard. He knew she had lied. Yet his concern was for her well-being?

He said it as if stating a fact, when it had to be a question. Yes, the magic had caused her to lose consciousness, however briefly. And yes, there was still a tender soreness beneath her ribcage. But it was easing by the second, the pain fading to a distant throb. It would soon be gone entirely.

She shook her head. Before she could form a response, Maynard cleared his throat. “Sorry to interrupt the reunion, truly I am. I’d have us camp here for the night if I thought it wise, but…” He darted a glance at the cabin where so much blood had been spilled. “But I think we’d best be on our way.”

Callum used his grip on Laena’s arm to pull her to her feet, then released her. She forced herself to look away as the bandits rejoined them.

“So, husband,” she said, making her tone as light as she could. “Are these fine performers to escort us to Inasvale?”

“My brother can pay them there,” he said. “So, yes.”

At least they could now walk along the road. It was far easier than picking their way through the forest. Callum dispatched two of the bandits to walk a little way into the woods on either side of the road, instructing them to keep a watch in all directions.

The way the rest of them arranged themselves around the party, they did seem to take their new job seriously. Trying to forget the conversation with Callum, and to ignore the way he watched her too closely—whether out of concern or fear, she wasn’t sure—she schooled her expression to one of lightness.

The bandits had helped rescue her. It could do only good to get to know them a little.

“How far is it to Inasvale?” she asked as the cabin receded into the woods behind them.

Maynard cast a glance over his shoulder, ducking beneath a low-hanging branch without even looking at it. “Another three days’ walk, I’d wager,” he said. “Fizz. Get the couple some of those brown bread rolls, will you? The poor lady looks half starved.”

Gretchen, who’d positioned herself to Maynard’s right, shot them a dark look, though Laena thought that might well be a default expression for her. But another bandit—Fizz, apparently—bounced up merrily enough, handing them each a pair of rolls from the pack he carried on his back. At first, Laena thought he must be one of the younger members of the band, but a closer look revealed lines around his eyes and a deeply receding hairline. Still, he had a youthful air about him.

Maybe they really were performers.

Or cooks. The roll was hard but good, with an edge of sweetness to it. Different. She found herself devouring it; she hadn’t realized how hungry she was. “Molasses?” she asked.

“My best recipe,” Fizz said eagerly, and she realized he was watching her with his eyebrows raised in anticipation. Waiting, she thought, for her review of the food.

“It’s delicious,” Laena said. “I’ve never had such good traveling bread. ”

Of course, she hadn’t had very much traveling bread. But he didn’t need to know that.

Fizz grinned, the smile splitting his face evenly in half. “Isn’t it? I said, why should traveling food be so tasteless just because it needs to last? These are hard, they gotta be so they don’t get moldy—I baked ’em two days ago, no need to fret—but I could send sailors on a trip for six months and they’d be safe to eat! And happy, too. It’s the molasses, sure as anything.”

Laena didn’t know about the six months, but it did taste good. Or maybe it was just that she was near famished and would have eaten anything they offered.

“Fool,” Gretchen muttered. Though she was walking ahead of them, she kept peering back at Laena and Callum with such narrow-eyed focus that Laena wondered how she hadn’t tripped over her feet yet. It was as if she expected Laena or Callum to lunge forward and slit Maynard’s throat, now that she’d been rescued.

“Perhaps you should open a shop,” Laena said.

Beside her, Callum shook his head. She could practically hear him muttering not to encourage Fizz. Which, truth be told, only made her want to encourage him more.

“That’s exactly what I’m going to do, soon as we reach Inasvale,” Fizz said cheerfully. “Well, except for the shop part.”

“So not exactly,” Callum said. Laena elbowed him in the arm, and he glanced at her, the ghost of a smile on his lips. At least he didn’t leap away from her for fear of her magic.

“I’ll sell the bread to the merchants there,” Fizz said. “Turn our fates around.”

“Fizz, he’s not overly happy with our change in fortune,” one of the other bandits put in.

“I wouldn’t mind a new fortune myself,” another added.

Most of them were nodding along, and Laena found herself hoping she could use her influence to help them. What little influence she had, that was. “Forgive me,” she said, doing her best to be delicate, “but you don’t seem like very practiced bandits. How long have you been… without performing jobs?”

Fizz sighed. Before he could speak, Gretchen said, “We robbed a coach last week. How do you think we got the coin to make the bread? Ingredients cost money.”

The woman certainly sounded defensive. Not proud of their coach-robbing feat, not exactly, but… not ashamed of it, either. Even though Fizz kept darting glances at his shoes, as if he might be a bit ashamed.

One-time performers turned bandits. Who aspired to be bakers. It was… well, it was sweet actually.

“Gretchen,” Maynard said, “if you’re gonna grouse like your tongue’s gone sour, you can take up the rear and watch for anyone who might be following us.”

Gretchen shot him a murderous glare, but she did as he said, dropping back to the rear of the group. Though it might have been mainly that she wanted to avoid Fizz, or any further conversation with Laena and Callum.

“Hard times,” Maynard said. “Crops withering without reason. Fish have been scarce. We’ve had to leave the bounds of what we’d usually allow.”

Fizz nodded sadly. “And no one wants to pay for a song.”