My eyes stung. I hadn’t dared to hope I’d get a chance to find some clothes. “That was so kind of you. Thank you.”
“Our deal included clothes,” Lorian grumbled in my ear. I ignored him.
All of us were low on sleep, and Lorian was in a particularly dark mood for the rest of the day. We were approaching the Gromalian border, and if there were no delays, we’d complete whatever task Lorian needed by tomorrow morning.
Soon, I’d be in the city and on a ship south. If the border itself hadn’t been so heavily guarded, I could’ve traveled into Gromalia by land. But the king had set up numerous checkpoints on his side of the border, ensuring the corrupt couldn’t escape. A ship was safer and could get me farther south.
I hadn’t thought about what my life would be like when I started somewhere new. Truthfully, I didn’t want to. But as soon as I got to the city, I would find Vicer. He could send Tibris a message in our code. We had a number of places to send such messages to. Surely Tibris would be waiting at one of them.
Sometimes, when I woke up and realized I wasn’t at home with Tibris snoring in the next room and Mama safe in her bed, I wondered if that grief would drown me.
We stopped to water the horses, and Lorian sent Cavis to scout for spies or enemies or whoever it was they were watching out for.
I jumped off the horse before Lorian could help me down. He’d practically vibrated with rancor all day, and neither of us had said a word to each other.
Now, he leaned close, until I was trapped between his body and his horse.
“Last night was the second throat you’ve slit within the past few days, sweetheart. Not to mention the guard you pushed off that bridge.” I felt the blood draining from my face, and he gave me a humorless smile. “Of all of us, you’ve been the most murderous lately. Perhaps you should think twice before judging us as savages.”
My gaze found Marth’s. He shrugged, but his face was slowly turning red. Of course he would’ve looked with that power of his. Likely at Lorian’s order. Betrayal twisted my gut, and for a moment, my hands shook with it.
But Lorian was right. Not counting the way I’d contributed to the bearded giant’s death, I’d killed two other men since I’d left my village. I’d even used the knife I’d stolen from the hunter to stab the bearded giant.
Lorian watched me. His eyes narrowed, and with a low curse, he turned and stalked away.
My feet were numb, and I stumbled as I made my way to the river. A half-rotted log lay a few foot-spans from the water, and I sat on it, rubbing at my throat.
I’d stared in the mirror at the rope burn this morning. The truth was, if not for the power I didn’t understand—and the mercenaries who’d been kinder than I could have expected—it would’ve been me hanging in that inn this morning.
A branch snapped over my shoulder. I jumped at the sudden sound but continued staring at the water. “I want to be alone.”
Of course, the giant brute ignored me. Lorian sat next to me on the fallen tree trunk.
If he refused to leave, then I would. I made it to my feet before he snagged my wrist and hauled me back down.
I hated him.
He let me chew on my wrath. We both watched the water.
“That man deserved to die,” he said.
I glanced at him. His jaw was tight, brows furrowed. He truly didn’t understand my reaction. If anything, he seemed…bewildered by me.
I frowned. One morning, Herica’s cat had strolled into the bakery, a dead rat in its mouth. It had dumped the rat on the floor, gazing at Herica as if to say, “You’re welcome.”
Herica had screeched, chased the cat out with a broom, and buried the rat behind the bakery, her cheeks burning with embarrassment and fury.
The cat had stayed away for weeks, until Herica had burst into tears, wishing he’d return.
The way Lorian acted sometimes, it was as if he’d forgotten his humanity. Leaving a weaponless woman to die was a good example. He made life-and-death decisions so easily, always from a place of logic, depending on if it would help him with whatever task he was being paid to complete.
And yet, the only reason I could see for him to kill Beard—especially so violently—wasn’t from logic at all. No, it had been rage that had driven his actions.
I couldn’t imagine the things he’d seen as a mercenary. The things he’d done. Maybe in his mind, killing the man who had hurt me was almost like a…gift.
“I shouldn’t have thrown that in your face,” he said finally.