And the day after, the rebels would raid the facility, taking down one of the Empire’s strongholds.
What to do with that knowledge, if anything, Eliana didn’t know. But she filed it away with a smug twinge of satisfaction.
“Contemplating your vile past?”
Eliana opened her eyes and shot Simon a nasty smile. “Finished chatting with your girlfriend?”
Simon gestured toward the nearby door, which stood slightly ajar. “After you.”
She pushed off the wall. “So where do they come from, these refugees of yours?”
“They come from everywhere. Ventera. Meridian. Even from as far south as the Vespers if they have a strong enough boat.”
“And you feed and house them? Treat their wounds and illnesses?”
At the door, Simon stopped her with a touch on her arm. She turned back to him with a coy grin, but the innuendo on her lips died at the look on his face. He considered her in silence, like he was trying not only to read her face, but to look even past that and find a deeper truth.
Look all you want, she thought savagely. You’ll find nothing good.
“Yes,” he said at last. “We treat their wounds and illnesses.”
Eliana ignored the disquiet in her belly, gave him a slight hard smirk. “There are many such Red Crown camps throughout the country, I assume?”
“Yes.”
“Your rebellion might be more successful if you didn’t spend so much time nursing the damned.”
The door before them opened.
“Revolutions mean nothing if their soldiers forget to care for the people they’re fighting to save,” said a new voice. Two men stood there, and a woman. The man who had spoken was short, slight, pale-skinned with wild copper hair, and when Eliana’s gaze dropped to his waist, where a smallsword hung in plain view, the man clucked his tongue.
“Ah-ah,” he said, wagging his finger at her. “There will be no violence tonight.”
“Give me my knives and my brother, or I’m afraid I’ll be forced to disobey.” Eliana clucked her tongue. “And I was so hoping we could be friends.”
The other man, tall and muscular, with dark skin and black hair cropped close to his head, moved his hand to the revolver at his belt.
“Don’t bother,” said the first man, placing a hand on the other’s arm. “She’s afraid and lashing out.”
Eliana burst out laughing. “You think I’m afraid?”
“Everyone’s afraid. You’re just better at hiding it than most.” The man’s eyes flicked to Simon. “So Simon says, at least.”
Eliana’s laughter died, but a deadly smile remained. “I don’t believe we’ve been introduced.”
“Ah! Of course. How rude of me. I am Patrik, and I oversee Crown’s Hollow. This is Hob,” he said, gesturing to the other man. “My lieutenant and also my husband. And I believe you’ve already met Marigold,” he added, gesturing to the woman on his left.
She was older, with weathered brown skin and gray braids, and a malicious gleam in her eye. “I hit you on the head.”
Eliana grinned. “And I’ll soon return the favor.”
Patrik clasped Eliana’s hand, gave it a firm shake. “And of course I know you, Eliana Ferracora. Yes, I know exactly who you are.” When he smiled at her, it was not without kindness, but Eliana knew the glint of a killer when she saw one.
“Cause trouble in my home,” he said cheerfully, “and I will cut you from skull to navel, no matter how much I like your brother. And no matter how much Simon likes you.”
Simon gave a dismissive scoff, but Patrik was already guiding Eliana through the door. “Now then,” he announced, with a clap of his hands, “who’s hungry?”
17
Rielle
“I worry about Rielle. All children have tempers, but hers comes with a certain look I’ve not seen on the faces of others her age, or even much older. Her rage holds a delight, a hunger, that I’ll confess sometimes keeps me awake through the night. I haven’t talked to my husband about it. Sometimes I think I’m jumping at shadows. I should not be writing this. In fact, I think I will burn it.”
—Journal of Marise Dardenne
Confiscated by the Church of Celdaria in the Year 998 of the Second Age
“Again!”
Rielle exhaled sharply, blowing a sweaty dark curl out of her eyes, pushed hard off the ground, and jumped—first over a boulder, then over a pile of wooden rails. Then she scrambled up the rocky slope past the rails and down the steeper other side.