CHAPTER 5
Helena
The first thing she noticed was the burning pain in her left shoulder. It throbbed with each beat of her heart, pushing against something wrapped tightly around it.
The next thing was that her hands were tied in front of her waist. The ropes weren’t drawn cruelly tight, but she could feel the rough edges against her wrists.
She wouldn’t be escaping them, especially since her upper arms were secured to her torso.
She was lying on her back on the forest floor, a small rock or a tree root digging into her ribs.
“Are you serious?” a feminine voice hissed. “There is a hole in your hood, Cap! But you’ll let her walk away so she can try again later?”
“We’re dropping her off at the nearest village for the local sheriff to handle,” a low, commanding voice corrected calmly. “We’re not murderers.”
Slitting her eyes open, Helena tried to assess the situation. Her feet weren’t tied, but her captors were only a few feet away. None of them were watching her.
The short man from the road shook his head. “We have no quarrel with her, aside from taking a shot at Cap,” he rumbled in a deep voice. “She has no identifying papers, nor any messages.”
“What are you saying?” the woman replied angrily.
The other member of the group, a tall man with his hood drawn low over his face, looked at his companion. “That we waylaid the wrong person. She doesn’t work for General Valentin.”
During the pause that followed, Helena felt all three pairs of eyes on her. Something tickled her nose, but she tried to hold still instead of wrinkling her nose like she wanted to. She needed to maintain the element of surprise as long as she could.
“Unless they were verbal,” the woman finally suggested. “The timing was right. The General may not want to risk putting sensitive information in writing.”
The tickling grew more intense. Helena let her attention drop from the famed bandit and his followers for a moment to glare in annoyance at her nose.
A spider dangling from its string reached out its spindly legs and danced them across her skin again.
“AAAHHH!” she shrieked, all thought of advantages forgotten. Scrabbling with her feet, she tried to shove away from it, but her boots couldn’t find purchase on the leaf-littered ground. “Get it off! Get it off!”
Distantly, she heard the woman growling about the racket bringing travelers, but Helena’s world had narrowed to the spider playing patty-cake. She rolled to escape it.
Wrong direction. Her injured shoulder screamed in protest.
Something flashed through the air above her, and then a hand landed on her mouth. “Do you want to bring the forest down on us?” the tall man hissed. At this angle, she could see a hint of his eyes and trace the outline of his nose in the shadows. “I will gag you if I must.”
She studied those eyes for a few moments as her panic subsided. Despite his threat, his grip wasn’t rough.
But he’d still shot her and bound her.
Peeling her lips back, she lunged forward, snapping her teeth together. He jerked back.
“Don’t touch me,” she ordered, keeping her voice low. The three of them would have no trouble forcing a gag into her mouth if she tested them.
A deep chuckle rolled over her. “Quite the charmer you’ve caught yourself, Cap. Are you sure you want to throw her back?” the short man teased.
Cap sat back on his heels. His head stayed pointed toward her, but she couldn’t see much beyond his scruffy brown beard now. “What is your name, vixen?”
Helena lifted an eyebrow in challenge. “What’s yours? Cap can’t be your real name.”
Wise to taunt her captor? Probably not. But it was the only power she had at the moment.
The woman crossed her arms and looked away, but the short man leaned on the long staff in his hands and laughed some more. “Truly, Cap, she’s a free agent and looking for a home. You could use a little excitement in your life.”
“I don’t have enough of that already?” the bandit replied wryly, his head turning toward his friend. Then focusing on Helena again, he sat silently, appearing to consider her. Finally, he spoke. “It’s short for Le Capuchon.”
“Le Capuchon?” Helena echoed before she thought better of it. She snorted. “Isn’t that Old Amitian for ‘the hood’?”
Instead of taking offense, he clasped his hands with his forearm on one knee and tilted his head. “You know Old Amitian?”
“Don’t even think about it,” the woman said in a warning voice. “The General sent her here to ensnare you. He knows your love of the old languages.”
“The General knows nothing about Le Capuchon,” he replied calmly. Turning toward her, he continued, “Unless you have informed him?”
“That is not the name your mother gave you,” Helena cut in with certainty. “I’ll tell you my name if you tell me yours,” she wheedled, mimicking the tone that one of the noblewomen in her court often used.
His focus dropped to the ground, and his companions fell silent. She knew he was a bandit, but what was the big deal about giving her a name?
“I have no name,” he finally said gruffly, shoving to his feet. “I threw it away.”
His shoulders drooped, and Helena almost felt bad for asking.
Almost.
Striding away, he jabbed his finger toward the woman. “Take her and her mount back to the horses. And be gentle – she’s been hurt enough for one day.” He stormed past the short man. “You’re with me. Let’s hope we didn’t miss the real messenger.”
The woman’s jaw tightened, but she didn’t say anything as she watched the others disappear into the trees. Helena kept a wary eye on her; of the three, the woman seemed the least friendly toward her.
“And what’s your name?” she said lightly. “Or have you thrown away your name, too?”
The woman’s attention returned to her. “You may call me Scarlett.” Her eyes weren’t visible, but Helena imagined them combing her person. What did the female bandit see? A foolish, helpless girl like Le Capuchon had implied? The dangerous femme fatale that she’d accused Helena of being?
A desperate young woman with no place to go?
“Shouldn’t we be going, Scarlett?” Helena finally said, rolling her head in pretended search. “The only horse I see is my own.”
Scarlett pinched her lips together. “I will not be sorry to be rid of your mouth,” she grumbled.
Stepping forward, she grabbed the rope around Helena’s middle and hauled her upright.
The woman’s strength startled Helena, causing her to stumble.
A smirk curved the bandit’s lips. “Keep up, and don’t try to run off – I would hate to disobey Cap’s orders because I had to tackle you. ”
“Then maybe I should.” Helena smiled pleasantly. “So you can test your hooded captain’s reaction to disobedience.”
Scarlett just grinned. “If anyone understands that you sometimes have to bend the rules, it’s an outlaw.”
Refusing to appear cowed, Helena shrugged carelessly. “If you say so.”
She expected a clearing, but they were still in a wooded area when her horse pricked his ears at a quiet whicker. They stepped past another tree, and four beautiful, well-cared-for horses, still saddled and bridled, appeared.
Helena glanced around before turning to her captor. “You just trust that your horses will be here when you return?” she asked, amused. “I would call your captain arrogant, but they seem to be where you left them.”
Scarlett made an annoyed sound in the back of her throat. “Where is that boy? I told Cap we should have brought someone else.”
A flash of movement was their only warning, but the oncoming sword halted before it reached them. Metal rang as Scarlett swept her opponent’s blade to the side. “Tucker! What are you doing?” Her annoyance had deepened to irritation. “You’re supposed to be guarding the horses.”
The teenager sheathed his sword with a huff. “I thought for sure I’d get you that time. Where are the others?” He turned curious brown eyes on Helena. “And who’s that? Did Cap rescue her from the General? Why is she still tied up?”
He reached for her, but Scarlett knocked his hand aside. “This wasn’t a rescue mission. She took a shot at Cap; we can all be thankful for her terrible aim.”
“That arrow hit exactly where I meant it to,” Helena protested, indignant. “If I’d intended to harm him, I would have.”
“You don’t have to save face,” Scarlett replied with an eye roll. “We don’t care.”
Helena opened her mouth to argue, but the woman shot her a glare. “I don’t care if you are a lady. I won’t hesitate to gag you if I tire of your mouth.”
The boy gaped at them both. “You shot at Cap? Why?”
“Don’t people normally shoot bandits who stop them on the road?” Helena replied, watching as Scarlett opened one of Helena’s saddlebags and began to dig through it. “Is this the part where you rob me of my worldly goods?”
Tilting his head, Tucker asked, “Why would we do that?”
Helena laughed. “Because you’re bandits.”
“Are we?” Scarlett said cryptically.
Instead of responding to that obvious bait, Helena leaned against a nearby tree and slowly lowered herself to the ground. She needed to rest if she wanted to escape later.
Tipping her head back, she blew some loose hairs out of her face and watched the female bandit paw through every one of her possessions.
Scarlett shook out the clothes and examined each coin in Helena’s leather purse.
A worn copy of Roumaterra: The Dawn of a New Era landed on a pile of dresses on the ground, followed by the latest volume of Stewart’s mysteries – the package had appeared in Axel’s correspondence while he was in Daraigh, so Helena had borrowed it.
When the saddlebags were empty, Tucker helped her stuff everything back in. Helena cringed at the abuse to her favorite book, but before she could protest, Scarlett and Tucker both froze. Tucker’s hand slapped his chest, and then he ran to unhook reins from branches. Scarlett drew her sword.
The faint roar of male voices and the pounding of feet reached Helena’s ears. She struggled to her knees.
“Mount up! Now!” the deep voice of Le Capuchon’s short companion panted. “They’re right on our heels!”