Sea of Shadows (23 page)

Forty-five

A
s they prepared, Ashyn got a better sense of the situation from Belaset. They were in a wagon from one of the trains they’d passed earlier that day. Apparently, the slave trader had spotted the girls and realized they were alike—in his profession, he would have a much keener eye than the average traveler.

He’d cut Belaset’s wagon from the train and returned with a few mercenaries, planning to take the girls at night. That’s why Ronan seemed to be asleep at his post—he’d been unconscious from a dart. They’d likely planned to use darts on the others as they slept, but then Ashyn and Tova woke. They’d brought them back and returned for Moria and Daigo.

Now Belaset had Ashyn remove her cloak, pull her hair over her shoulders, and undo the top button on her tunic. Ashyn would have been fine with all that, but then Belaset insisted on a second button and tugged her tunic down until Ashyn was certain if she leaned over, her breasts would be on full display. That was, she supposed, the idea, but her cheeks still blazed at the thought.

“How do you do that?” Belaset said.

“Do what?”

“Redden your cheeks.”

Belaset reached over and pinched them hard with her scaly fingers. Ashyn tried not to shrink at her touch.

“There,” Belaset said. “You look very sweet and shy. Men like that. I worked at a brothel doing chores for the women, and men were always asking for virgins.”

“Brothel?” Ashyn said. “Is that like a courtesan house?”

Belaset laughed. “Not exactly, child. Come now. We must move quickly, before they take your sister.”

Ashyn knocked on the wagon door. “Hello? Is someone out there?”

It took a moment for the guard to answer.

“Yes?” he said.

“I’m unwell,” she said.

“It’s the dart,” he said. “It will wear off soon.”

“I—I’m going to be ill. Do you have something for me to . . . use? I don’t want to be sick in here. I’m afraid I’ll wake . . . the thing in here with me.”

Ashyn hadn’t wanted to say it that way, but Belaset insisted. If she called her a girl or used her name, it would be clear they’d been speaking, and the guard would be wary.

“Is there a bucket?” Ashyn asked. Belaset had said there was, hanging from the wagon, so the captives could relieve themselves.

The guard grunted. She heard the bucket clatter against the wood. He opened the door just enough to pass the bucket through. Ashyn pulled it into the gap so the guard couldn’t close the door.

Now it was time to use her wiles. Did she even
have
wiles? She doubted it, but she could feel the guard’s gaze fixed on those opened buttons, on the pale skin beneath.

Pretend I’m a maiden in a tale, and this is my warrior love, slipping to my door for a few stolen moments.

She leaned forward, letting her tunic open more, her hair tumbling over it, and she didn’t need to fake the blushing cheeks or shy gaze as she looked up into his face. He was not much older than she, his own cheeks darkening as he stared at her open tunic.

He’s only a boy. We can’t do this.

I’ll find another way.

“I . . . I thought I heard something in here,” she whispered, as if trying not to wake Belaset. “A snake or a rat. Could you take a look?”

She gazed up into his eyes. Not that there was much use in it. His attention hadn’t left her open neckline. She steeled herself and leaned over farther.

“Please,” she said. “I’d be so grateful.”

He nodded, his gaze not lifting until she backed onto the pallet. The move was not so much seduction as necessity—the wagon was only big enough to hold the wide sleeping mat. But when she backed onto it, his breath caught and he started forward, as if she were pulling him into her bed. He glanced over at Belaset, who was feigning sleep.

“Where did you hear the noise, miss?” he asked, his voice thick.

“Up here. At the head of the mat.”

He knelt on the pallet, his gaze on her. Then he put his hands down carefully, ready to crawl onto it, watching for any sign that she was going to stop him. When she gave none, he started forward.

I’ll pretend I’m going to let him kiss me. Then I’ll grab his hair and knock him unconscious. We won’t need to kill—

Belaset sprang up and grabbed the guard by the hair.

“Knock him—” Ashyn began.

The blade slashed.

“No!”

It was too late. The guard’s throat split before he could pull his blade. He gurgled blood. Ashyn stared in horror as Belaset grabbed her arm and yanked her toward the door.

“Hurry, child!”

Belaset pulled Ashyn outside. Ashyn resisted at first but quickly realized there was nothing she could do. She tumbled out the wagon door, hitting the ground. The night was silent and still.

“Tova,” she said. “I need to find—”

“Your dog? We can’t worry about him. Hurry!”

“No, go on. Keep the dagger. I’ll . . .” She swallowed. “I’ll take the guard’s.”

Belaset shook her head. “There’s no time. Find your dog quickly. He can’t be far.”

Tova was right under the wagon. Sound asleep, still unconscious from the dart. As Ashyn shook him, her heart pounded.

He leaped up with a snort, and she threw her arms around his broad neck.

“There’s no time for that,” Belaset said. “Hurry!”

Belaset raced off. Ashyn untied Tova and caught up. She had no idea which way to go—the plains all looked the same to her—but she trusted Belaset. They ran until they reached a patch of scraggly bushes. Belaset crouched behind them.

“Here’s where we part, child. The road is that way.” She pointed. “I trust you can find your camp?”

“Come with me,” Ashyn said. “You’ll be safer. We’re all armed. My sister is well trained with a blade, and we have a warrior escort. We’ll take you back to the city.”

“There is nothing for me in the city.”

“Then we’ll take you someplace safe.”

“You’ve been kind, but I’m going my own way, Ashyn of Edgewood. I trust you’ll allow me to take this blade.”

The request caught Ashyn off guard. It was a fine dagger, one she’d used since she was a child. If Belaset wanted a blade, she should have gone back for the guard’s, when Ashyn mentioned it. As soon as she hesitated, she felt shamed. Ashyn could easily get another.

“Of course,” she said. “Take it. Please.”

“And that ring?”

“Ring? I . . . I am sorry, but I cannot part with that. It was my mother’s.”

“I think I have earned it, child.”

“My father left it for me. When he died. Barely seven nights ago.” Ashyn heard the edge in her voice and the snap in her words. Yet there wasn’t an inkling of understanding in Belaset’s eyes, much less shame.

“You can buy many rings,” the girl said. “I will take that one, in payment for my services.”

“No, you will not—”

Belaset lunged. Ashyn staggered back. Tova grabbed Belaset by the blade arm, and she let out a hiss of shock, as if she’d forgotten the hound was there. He whipped her off her feet, Ashyn’s blade bouncing to the ground. Then he retrieved the dagger gingerly by the handle and returned it to Ashyn.

“I deserve that ring,” Belaset said. Her voice remained calm, as if simply requesting her due. A simple act of necessity, devoid of emotion. “I deserve it. I rescued you.”

Ashyn gave a short laugh. “No, you helped me escape, using my blade, and in return, you earned your freedom, which you would not have gotten otherwise. I owe you nothing but my thanks. However, I will give you the dagger. Stay where you are. I’ll walk away and leave it on the ground between us. When I whistle, you may retrieve it. If you make a move before that, I will set Tova on you, and this time, he will not be so gentle.”

“All right.”

Belaset’s agreement came quickly—too quickly—which made Ashyn certain the girl was planning to trick her, but Belaset stayed still as Ashyn walked away and set down the blade. Even when Ashyn whistled softly, Belaset only rose and walked toward the dagger. When Ashyn glanced back, the girl was bending to retrieve it. She saw Ashyn and lifted a hand, as if in farewell. Then she turned and loped off across the dark plain.

Forty-six

A
s soon as they left Belaset behind, Tova started off, presumably heading for camp.

Ashyn kept looking about, creeping quickly, until she saw a figure crouched behind a bush. It was not apparent at first, and she was certain he thought the bush hid him, but spring had not yet brought the bush into full bloom, and she could make out a crouching figure through its half-bare branches.

She froze. Her fingers fumbled under her cloak for her dagger . . . before she remembered she no longer had it.

“Tova!” she whispered.

He glanced at her. She motioned at the bush, where the figure was now rising. Tova looked over at it, then back at her, as if to say,
So?

The faint moonlight lit the figure. It was Ronan.

“Ashyn?” Ronan’s whisper crossed the distance between them.

“Who else would it be?” she whispered as she walked over. “Tova gives me away nicely.”

“It was not a question so much as a greeting, lest you decide to put Moria’s dagger-throwing lessons into practice.”

“I doubt you’d be in much danger even if I did.”

He chuckled softly. His hand went out, and she thought he was going to take hers and draw her to him, but he only beckoned her close, then laid his hand on her arm.

“It seems I fell asleep at my post.” He flashed a wry smile. “But if you don’t tell Gavril, I won’t tell Moria that you got lost relieving yourself.”

“Got lost?” She gave him a hard look. “Is that truly what you thought?”

Tova harrumphed, equally offended.

“You were knocked unconscious with a dart,” she said. “I was kidnapped.”

“Kidnapped?”

“How long was I gone?” Ashyn shook her head and waved for him to follow Tova, who’d started back toward camp. “I’ll explain to everyone at—” She stopped and spun on him. “You did not realize I was taken?”

“I didn’t, and I apologize—”

“No, I mean—Moria and Gavril. You didn’t wake them?”

“I wanted to find you before they realized I’d—” He swore.

Ashyn was already running.

The slave trader’s men were at the camp. Ashyn could hear the commotion before they were close enough to see anything. When she tried to race ahead, Ronan caught her cloak.

“We’d do better to surprise them,” he said. “Come this way, along the stream.”

They ran down into the shallow gully. Ronan told her to follow in his footsteps, on the hard ground, so their boots wouldn’t squelch. The gully was neck high, meaning Ashyn could still see over the edge. It seemed forever before she spotted the horses, looking about as if startled. When she gazed over the field, she saw figures at the camp.

Those figures had gone silent now. Their early oaths and curses seemed to have been Moria and Gavril as they were woken from sleep. And perhaps the raiders as they realized they’d lost the element of surprise.

Ashyn and Ronan continued running silently until the figures became clear—Moria, Daigo, and Gavril, surrounded by armed men. Ashyn tried to dart past Ronan, but again, he held her back.

“Race in there, and you’ll distract Moria and Gavril as much as those mercenaries.”

Causing a distraction hadn’t actually been her plan. She’d had no plan at all but to run in, armed with Ronan’s dagger. Even that would be pointless—they were still several hundred paces off.

Ronan resumed moving, quickly. Ashyn followed, her gaze fixed on her sister. Four men surrounded them. Daigo was at Moria’s side, while Gavril stood with his back to her, their blades raised as they faced off against the raiders.

“Give us the girl,” a man said. “And we’ll let you live.”

The words came from a fifth man, one Ashyn saw only now. He stood off to the side, well out of the fight. The slave trader.

Gavril didn’t even acknowledge the offer. Moria did, saying, “I’ll let
you
all live, if you return my sister.”

“Take them!” the slave trader shouted, and the raiders surged forward.

Ronan raced up the stream gully onto clearer ground. Ashyn could barely even see the fighters; they seemed a seething mass of dark forms and flashing metal, their clangs of steel mingling with Daigo’s snarls. Every now and then, though, she’d catch a glimpse of Moria and Gavril, still back-to-back as they fought.

Tova raced ahead. Already a man lay on the ground under Daigo, and another was fleeing. By the time Tova reached the fight, Daigo’s prey lay unmoving. Moria’s target was staggering back, and the wildcat was leaping for him. Gavril fought the last raider, but Tova circled past him, instead heading for the slave trader, who realized the fight was lost. He began to flee, with Tova at his heels. Once he was far enough gone, Ashyn whistled Tova back.

Moria spun to help Gavril, but he was already drawing his blade back as his opponent rushed him. The man’s charge left him open, and it took only one solid swing to end it.

Ashyn saw Gavril’s expression as his sword struck the man’s side. Anger and resolve as he swung. Relief as the blade sliced into the man. Then horror as the raider hung there, nearly cut in two, held upright by the sword.

Gavril stumbled back and yanked his blade out, as if he hoped he could somehow undo the fatal blow. Moria wheeled from the raider Daigo now had pinned to the ground. She took hold of Gavril’s elbow and pulled his attention to her as she said something.

Ashyn caught Ronan’s arm, slowing him. Moria seemed to be asking Gavril if he was hurt, and he was shaking his head. Then he reached out, one hand going to the back of Moria’s neck, under her hair, the other rising to her cheek. The young warrior leaned over her sister’s upturned face, his braids falling in a curtain around them.

He’s going to kiss her.

He never even came close. And unlike Ashyn with Ronan several nights before, Moria gave no sign that she ever expected a kiss, given that she kept talking. Instead, it seemed Gavril was examining a cut on Moria’s cheek, and she was brushing off his concern.

Gavril continued checking the wound, his voice low, and as Ashyn watched them, she knew it didn’t matter if he kissed her sister or not; there was something between them. A deep concern for each other’s well-being that went beyond blossoming friendship.

She glanced at Ronan. He watched them, looking uncomfortable.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured.

He glanced over, brows gathering. “About what?”

She paused. “Are you all right?”

A short laugh. “I’m not the one who just fought off armed kidnappers. Though I might feel like I did in a moment. Moria and Gavril aren’t going to be pleased with me.”

“It was an honest mistake,” she said. “You thought—”

“Ronan!” Moria’s voice rang out, and they looked up to see her striding over. “I hope you have a good excuse for being captured on guard duty.”

Ashyn stepped between them. “He does. They used darts with some sort of sleeping potion, and we were taken captive—”

“
Ashyn
was taken captive,” Ronan corrected. “While I was unconscious. I woke and thought she’d wandered off.”

Moria snorted. “Wandered off? I should hope after all these days together you’d know her better than that.”

“Moria?” Gavril called. “We’ll speak about this later. We ought to leave before that trader decides to return.”

Moria turned. “And the other mercenaries?”

“Daigo killed one,” Ronan said. “Another fled. The third is unconscious. I’ve taken his blades. Gavril’s right. We ought to gather the horses and go.”

As they rode, Ashyn explained what had happened—but only to Moria. Given the fate that had awaited her in King Machek’s court, she’d been too embarrassed to tell Gavril and Ronan. “What’s the shame in being kidnapped for a harem?” Moria had said. “It wasn’t as if you volunteered.” Still, Ashyn was more comfortable letting her sister tell Gavril and Ronan, which she did, riding behind with them while Ashyn went on ahead.

As for
their
reaction, they had none—to the harem prospect, that is. To them, it seemed as unremarkable as a young man being captured for work in the mines. It was simply another terrible fate that could befall unprotected youth.

They reacted more strongly to the actual kidnapping. Gavril was furious at the affront. To kidnap the Seeker was an unforgivable insult to the goddess, and even if one did not follow the laws of a neighboring land, one ought to respect its customs.

Like Moria, Ronan was more concerned about how the ordeal affected Ashyn. She assured them she was fine. Yes, it had been a shock, but it had ended so quickly that she was quite recovered. Which was untrue, yet not something she wished to burden them with now.

They continued through the day, but Moria and Gavril were obviously finding riding difficult, having taken several hard blows and blade slices during the fight.

Finally, as the sun began its descent, Ashyn persuaded them that the horses needed to stop. Having decided not to risk camping on open ground again, they found an inn for the night.