My eyes burned. I gave in to the tears that rolled silently down my face. And I wept. It was as if once I allowed myself to mourn, I cracked open the stone wall I’d erected between myself and the reality I’d tried so hard to ignore.
My tears dripped onto my pillow. For the village I’d never see again. For Tibris, either dead or running for his life. And for my mother, who was gone from this world. I’d forced myself not to think of her. Attempted to focus on the fact that she’d kidnapped me and then lied to me my whole life. But…
She also cared for me. She loved me. I knew that much. She’d done her best to ensure I kept my magic hidden as a child—continually moving villages to keep me safe.
And if the priestesses were right, Mama was now drowning over and over again in the waters of Hubur. Because she’d helped me hide from the king’s guards. Because she’d protected me.
I was the reason she was dead.
And I would have to live with that knowledge for the rest of my life.
Her face flashed in front of my eyes, and my shoulders shook with suppressed sobs.
All I’d been to my family was poison.
A warm hand came out of the darkness, and I jolted, swinging out.
“We’ll work on your form tomorrow,” Lorian said.
“What—what are you doing?”
“Can’t sleep for your sniffling. Move over.”
I moved automatically. When he sat on the bed, I froze.
“Figured you’d be going over it in your head,” he said gruffly, grabbing a pillow. “Sleep, savage woman. I’ll keep you safe.”
My breath hitched again, this time for a different reason entirely. I lay down next to him, studying the ceiling. He fell asleep almost immediately, his soft breaths steadying me. Across the room, Marth began to snore, the sound a low rumble. I closed my eyes, trusting that if anyone else came for me, these men would keep me safe. At least for tonight.
CHAPTER NINE
I stood in the common room of the inn, blinking again and again, as if, eventually, the scene in front of me would change.
The bearded giant who’d tried to kill me was currently hanging from a hook. Dead. The hook had been attached to the ceiling of the inn, near the fire. His teeth were broken, and a key had been shoved between them, glinting in the low light.
I would bet all the money in the hunter’s purse that it was the key to my room.
The innkeeper stood frozen, several feet away from the body, his face so pale, it was impressive he was still on his feet.
Beard hadn’t had an easy death. The skin around his neck was mottled and bruised, highlighting the cut I’d made in his neck. But that hadn’t been what killed him.
No, that was likely the fact that his hands were no longer attached to his body.
I wasn’t sure exactly when Lorian had killed him—he would have done it himself, rather than sending one of the others to do it—but he’d either taken care of it last night right after I fell asleep, or he’d hunted him in the small hours of the morning.
The floor felt as if it were tilting beneath me. Nausea swelled in my gut, and my mouth had turned bone-dry.
“This was unnecessary,” I managed to get out.
Next to me, Lorian stiffened. I glanced at him. He was watching the innkeeper, his gaze still filled with retribution.
Something told me the man wouldn’t be passing out drunk without securing his spare keys ever again.
“It was completely necessary.”
Sometimes when I looked at Lorian, I didn’t recognize him. The man in my dreams had been approachable, like a sated tiger. The Lorian I’d first met had been all languid amusement and put-upon boredom. This Lorian looked wicked and wild, his eyes glowing with a strange, feral light.
He looked back at me, and I shivered.
Whatever he saw on my face made that light leave his eyes. “We’re leaving. Now.” He turned and prowled out the door.
Good. We needed to leave before someone decided to call the authorities.
A crowd was gathering around the body, many of them shooting terrified glances in our direction. This would draw attention. The kind of attention that was dangerous.
The thought clawed at my temper, and I stalked after Lorian. The others had already saddled up the horses and were waiting. I tensed as Lorian reached for my waist, and that muscle ticked in his jaw again. “You think I’m going to hurt you?”
“No.”
His expression hardened. And then I was in the saddle. He was careful not to touch me as he reached for the reins.
“We got you a couple of dresses, a tunic, and some breeches from the market,” Rythos said. “The boots might be a little big, but they’ll be better than what you’re wearing now.”