B0161NEC9Y (F) (6 page)

This time, though, everyone had withered at their posts. They couldn’t even raise their weapons. The Graygual had dropped over the walls like sludge, disarming or killing as they went. The gates had been opened and Alena’s worst fear had come to pass. They were captives.

She shivered, just thinking about it. She remembered wondering if the soldiers would knock down the doors and take the women or kill the children. All manner of horrible things had panicked her to the point of suffocation. Those first few days had been lost in a fog of fear. She barely remembered them.

Finally, on the fourth day, Molly had walked through the door with a stubborn expression and determined set to her shoulders. She’d given Alena a big, tight hug, then slapped her across the face.

“Shanti always slapped people across the face,” Molly had said with an insistent gaze. “She stared down the Captain, she fought off the Mugdock, and she changed people’s way of thinking. It started with a slap in the face. So you shake off this fear, Alena. You shake it off. There’s work to be done. We need to protect this city like our mothers taught us. The men are no good to us. This is a woman’s job. Get yourself cleaned up and get to the Circle meeting tonight without getting caught. We need to take charge.”

Alena ducked her head and wiped the smile off her face as she passed another hard-eyed Graygual soldier. Molly had caused enough havoc to get her own guard. But now that plans were set in motion, the essential thing was to keep their heads down and draw the least amount of notice possible.

Crying a lot also helped. The Graygual thought crying was a sign of weakness. It never hurt to let them continue thinking incorrectly.

After a miserable walk across the city with an aching shoulder, throbbing face, and pounding knee, she stumbled into Junice’s house and found her way to the kitchen. As expected, Junice sat at the kitchen table, working at needlepoint with a worry knot in her brow. At Alena’s entrance, she dropped her chore and bounced up.

“Did you do it?” Junice tsked at Alena’s cheek. “That looks like it hurts.”

“It does hurt.” Alena allowed herself to be directed to a chair at the table in the modest kitchen.

“You’ll live.” Junice wet a cloth and put it to Alena’s face gently.

“No sympathy from you, huh?” Alena grimaced as Junice dabbed. She must’ve gotten a cut—the treatment stung. “And yes, I passed it off. Now it’s in Ragna’s hands.”

Junice exhaled noisily. “Well, we’re in it now. There’s no backing out.”

“Unless she doesn’t use it.”

“She will. When the time is right, she’ll do what needs to be done.” Junice looked at Alena’s shoulder, and then her knee. “You’ll need some salve. It’ll help.”

“Dipping into Sanders’ stash?”

“Of course. He came home with more scrapes and cuts…” Junice chuckled, but sadness and worry colored her tone.

“He’s okay,” Alena said softly. “Wherever he is, he’s okay.”

“Of course he is. That man is too stubborn to die, that much I know. I just wonder if I’ll be okay. What we’re doing…it’s dangerous…”

“Why do you think we have such a great army, Junice? The Duke’s men couldn’t keep up with our guys. And do you know why?”

Junice paused in her doctoring. “Because we breed strong men,” Junice recited.

“Exactly.
We
breed strong men. We give birth to them, we mold them, we shape them, and then we hand the Captain a warrior half formed. We do all the hard work; all he has to do is put a sword in their hand and show them how to use it.”

Junice laughed. “You’re starting to sound like Molly.”

“A lot of us are. If there is one thing the women of this city know, it’s quiet strength. Someone has to keep those bullheaded men in line!”

“Yes. I know something about bullheaded men.”

“Ow!” Alena sucked a breath through her teeth as Junice dabbed her face. “That salve stings.”

“Speaking of quiet strength—you could use a heavy dose of both…”

“I still don’t know why the Women’s Circle gave me this job,” Alena complained. “I think they must hate me.”

“Lucius is still trying to hold strong, huh?”

“Obviously. I don’t think they’d bother bringing me in if he wasn’t. The Hunter is calculating that way. It seems like he’s only nice, or only mean, to manipulate. His smiles aren’t genuine, and he never shows anger. It’s…”

“Terrifying.”

Alena grimaced. “Unpredictable.”

“Exactly. Which is terrifying.” Junice put a bandage over the cut on Alena’s knee. “As to why you, you’re the toughest of Lucius’ ex-loves. He knows you well. It hurts him more when you’re in pain.”

“He dumped me, actually. Or don’t you remember when I lost it and destroyed his house?”

Junice smirked. “That was years ago.”

“I don’t know why we don’t just tell him to do as he’s told. If he knew what we were plotting, he’d go along with it.”

“And if he just went along with it, the Hunter would wonder why. No, this is the best way.”

“Just my luck.” Alena sagged against the table.

“My only fear is that the Captain falls into the Hunter’s trap before we’ve done our part. The Hunter is supposed to always be one step ahead of his enemies.”

Alena reached over and covered Junice’s hand with her own. “The Hunter will
think
he’s one step ahead, but what he’ll really be is distracted. We’ll be the snake in the grass. We just have to stay the course.”

“I hope you’re right.” Junice picked up her needlepoint, her brow knotted in worry again.

“I am.” Alena sincerely wished she felt as confident as she sounded.

Chapter Four

“How do you know?” Shanti sat beside a rigid and silent Cayan, facing Portolmous as he sat behind his desk. Sonson’s brother and the second in command after the Shadow Lord, his face was grim. He’d just told them that the Graygual had moved into Cayan’s city and taken everyone hostage.

“Burson put it in his weekly report.” Portolmous handed the folded letter across the desk. Cayan reached for it slowly—his hands were steady, but his eyes were on fire.

“And how does he know?” Sonson asked, standing by the window with a solemn expression.

“One of the men in his Wanderer network traded with Westwood Lands a couple weeks ago. He was trading water treatment agents. Apparently, there is a bad stomach flu going around the Captain’s city. Two things stood out, of course. The first was that it’s unlikely that a people wouldn’t suddenly have an issue with their water. But someone foreign to that area might. The second was that this person moved and had all the mannerisms of a Graygual officer. They don’t move and act like a normal trader would.”

“So Burson isn’t certain, he’s speculating,” Shanti clarified.

“Yes.” Portolmous clasped his hands on the desk. “But that, combined with sightings of a large host of Graygual headed in the general direction of the city, would indicate that he is right.”

“Yes, it would,” Shanti mumbled, her mind whirling.

Cayan gave voice to her thoughts. “It seems the Hunter isn’t in hiding, he’s laying in wait.”

She turned to look at him slowly, trying not to feel the guilt eating away her insides. It was hard, though. She’d told him his city would be safe. That the Hunter would follow her. And he had. He’d done what Shanti had expected…until she’d stopped expecting anything at all. She hadn’t thought far enough ahead. She was still thinking like she was the only one on this journey, making her focus singular and shortsighted.

She dropped her shaking head.

“There are other matters to discuss,” Portolmous said in a tight voice.

Shanti looked up in confusion, seeing that his hard stare was aimed at her.

“We have reports,” Portolmous started. “Not all the Wanderer’s heralds are in Burson’s network. Of the pockets of people rising up against the Graygual, the most effective advocates are light of feature and far from home. They’ve said they are looking to join the Chosen. Always the Chosen, they say. Not the Wanderer. With each town they help, or each time they dodge the Graygual, they plant themselves more firmly into legend. They are bolstering Burson’s network like no one else…except you.”

Shanti met his stare with her own, not sure why this should anger him. He’d known Shanti wanted a bird sent. Originally the Shadow Lord was going to take care of this, but after Shanti had talked it over with Cayan, new plans were formed. None of this was a secret.

Portolmous’ jaw tightened. “The Graygual have been mostly complacent about these small uprisings. Our thought was that they expected it with the news of the Chosen. But now…this has created a different atmosphere.”

“Have they been sighted?” Shanti asked in an even voice, the desire to see her people so strong it dripped through her stomach like acid.

“A handful of times. They make good time. Amazing time, given the distance from your home land to their most recent sighting…”

Shanti shook her head in irritation. “I explained this to the Shadow Lord. A select group of my people hid during the last battle. We knew Xandre’s armies would be too much, so I chose the best and brightest to hide themselves away until they were needed. Just as I had to flee capture, they had to escape from death. After everything settled, they snuck out in order to station themselves in remote locations, waiting for the call to arms. At least…that was the plan. Until this news, I didn’t know if they had made it.”

“And you have directed them to the Captain’s lands.”

“Well, I couldn’t very well invite them here. There was no guarantee that we would be here when they turned up,” Shanti said with a flash of anger. “What are you getting at, Portolmous?”

“The Graygual have taken an interest in these so-called heralds. They want this band found and killed. They’re also taking more interest in the other bands of rebels cropping up all over. In short, the Graygual are starting to react on a larger scale.”

“We knew that would happen eventually,” Shanti countered.

“Not so soon, though. It’s shortening our time to get organized.”

“Wars aren’t planned with a timetable,” Cayan said, standing. “They are a game of cause and effect. Is that everything you have? I need to talk to my men.”

Portolmous stood as well, staring at Cayan with intelligent green eyes. “Wars aren’t planned with timetables, no, but when someone such as Burson gives them to you, it’s best to listen. He said you should wait—not to act right away. He said that would greatly improve the chances of success.”

“Noted. Now, excuse me.” Cayan glanced at Shanti before striding from the room.

She looked at Portolmous. “Can you be ready any sooner?”

Pity entered Portolmous’ eyes. “No. I’m getting our people ready as fast as I can, but you are talking about massive relocation. It takes more than a few months.”

“We’ll have some people at your disposal.” Sonson dropped his hand to the hilt of his sword. He gave his brother a look of warning. Portolmous’ mouth snapped shut. “Planning is great, but sometimes action is better.”

Sonson looked back at Shanti. “Whoever we can spare, we will. Just let me know what you plan.”

Shanti gave him a nod of gratitude before she walked from the room. She crossed the city quickly, using her
Gift
to track Cayan to Sanders’ quarters. A few of Cayan’s men were already there looking up at their leader with the same fire in their eyes.

“When do we leave?” Tobias asked, his furry brow raised in expectation.

“Now, obviously. Tonight.” Sanders paced at the back of the room. “They’d better have a ship available.”

“Burson said in his letter that we’d benefit from waiting a month,” Cayan said carefully. “He says it will be a trifecta. Our chances will be better.”

“A trifecta, sir?” Tobias squinted in confusion.

“I take that to mean that he expects three groups of people converging together—or near enough.”

“I don’t give two shits about a trifecta.” Sanders stopped pacing and stared at Cayan. “Burson is a few bricks short of a house if he thinks I’m going to sit around here, playing at swords, when my wife is in danger. No way, sir. It’s time to go.”

Cayan nodded and glanced at Daniels. The older man, sitting regally in the back of the room, sat forward. His gaze was contemplative. “As devil’s advocate, Burson has always been right. Always. His methods are strange, of course, being from his…gifts—”

“Cut to the chase, man,” Sanders barked, temper making his face red.

Daniels’ expression hardened. “It might be a better outcome, like he said, if we waited.”

“It would be a better outcome for whom?” Sanders shot back. “The war, or my wife? Because why are we fighting the Graygual if not to protect our loved ones? No. I’m sorry, sir, but no dice. I will leave this army right now if it means sitting around here for the next month, with our thumbs in our assess, while our family and friends are subjected to the treatment of the Graygual. No fucking way, sir, pardon my language.”

“Why is the Hunter keeping the situation a secret, I wonder?” Marc said from a chair in the corner. When eyes turned his way, he hunched and looked at his hands, scrubbing at his nail.

“He isn’t very well going to alert Shanti that he’s holed up in the city, now is he?” Sanders said, pacing again. “She’d turn up with Shadow and mind power and all sorts of ideas on how to kill them all and get my wife out of this. At least, she’d better.” Sanders shot Shanti a
look
.

“But—” Marc’s face retracted into his collar like a turtle as Sanders’ gaze swung at him.

“But what, cadet?” Sanders prodded.

“He wants her. And probably the Captain. And I’m sure he must know—oooh.” Marc scrubbed harder at his nail.

Sanders stopped walking and stared at Marc with wide eyes. His face was a dangerous shade of red now. Shanti stepped in. “Say what you have to say, Marc, before Sanders brains you.”

“Oh.” Marc cleared his throat, not looking up. “He probably assumes that if he asked you to trade yourself for our city, you’d want to do it, but all of us would stop you. Right? Because that would save our people for now, but without you and the Captain, we’d all die eventually. We’re a marked city. So trapping you and taking you is probably the safer approach for him.”