Chapter 18
Iwatch from a safe distance, tucked behind a log Dresden home, as Soren and Petronis run collections tonight. It’s good to watch. It gives me a sense of what’s being put on the trailer and where, which helps me to work faster during my raid.
A tickle goes up my spine as the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. It feels like I’m being watched, so I crouch lower. Shrink deeper into my hood. But after scanning the tree line, the darkness gives nothing away.
‘Please,’ a Dresden woman begs, reaching for Soren’s hand. He jerks back in disgust, and she drops to her knees before the collections table. Her head is wrapped in a faded scarf and her sharp face carries both desperation and deep fatigue. ‘Give me another week.’
‘Time’s up,’ Soren says, while writing in the ledger. ‘You’ve underpaid for over a month. You owe too much.’
‘It’s the mine.’ Her voice rises with anger. ‘I can’t lift –’
He peers behind her. ‘Next,’ he growls, just like the wolf he is – him and Petronis.
‘Wait!’ She grips the table. ‘W-what if I work as a laundress? The Commander hires people for that. Or I could farm his animals. Do the cleaning?’
‘Those positions aren’t for asylum seekers with bad joints.’ Soren’s lip curls. ‘And you stink. If you can’t rinse yourself off once in a while, you’re not qualified to work a mop. You’ll be escorted out of Notting territory at sunrise.’
‘No, please,’ she cries, then whirls around, facing her fellow Dresden. ‘You all know this is a death sentence. Help me.’
My head drops as silence fills the air, and my stomach turns.
Exiles have become rare since I’ve started raiding.
But every time it happens, it feels like we’ve failed.
Like I’ve failed. I search the crowd for Brother Thomas and find him standing not far off, his face tense.
I don’t understand. Was there nothing left we could have given to her?
‘You miserable rats,’ she spits, but not at the guardsmen. ‘May you all burn in hellfire.’
Her anger hangs in the air, thick and venomous, and Brother Thomas’s words from years ago come back to me.
We have to be cautious of those who would turn on us to save their skin.
Is that what’s happening? This woman is someone who would snitch on our charity to benefit herself? Or maybe blackmail us into giving her more and more?
Petronis draws his sword. ‘Leave before you make me use this.’
Her mouth snaps shut. Then with a pitiful whimper, she shuffles away.
We can’t help everyone, Marian. It’s a bitter pill, but I swallow it down, walling off that part of my heart. If I didn’t accept my limits, I’d have lost my mind under the pressure and grief long ago.
Twenty minutes later, I take my position in the ditch along the road. The trailer, pulled by one horse, is approaching. Soren is on his own mount, not far off. I press my hands into the cold grass, readying myself.
They’re moving quickly. They pass, and I dive out of the brush, but it’s so dark that I miss the back of the trailer and fall hard on to the dirt road.
My elbow smarts as I scramble to my feet and start running.
My boots thud loudly as I catch up. I grab hold, grit my teeth and jump, hauling myself over the wooden edge. The trailer dips with my weight.
‘Wait! Hold on,’ Soren calls to Petronis.
His horse immediately slows, and my heart climbs into my throat. I duck down, out of breath, but as much as I need to be quiet, I need to hide. One swipe of Soren’s torch this way, and he’ll see me.
‘What?’ Petronis asks, as the wagon slows to a stop.
‘The trailer … bobbed.’
Petronis laughs. ‘Yeah, look at this road.’
The load bounces as it rumbles forward again, and I’ve never been more grateful that Petronis has the patience of an overfilled bladder. A second later, Soren’s horse resumes walking.
Blood rushes in my ears as I waste no time dropping items into the tall grass beside the ditch. I want this over with. My hand retrieves a bag of what feels like potatoes. I lower it down. Drop it into the grass. Whatever’s inside shatters. Loudly.
Panic slams into my chest. I dive low, flattening myself.
‘Stop,’ Soren shouts.
Petronis obeys.
Soren’s horse ambles closer and – stay or go? Stay or go? He’s going to see me either way. With a silent prayer, I spring up and leap over the side. But in the dark, I land awkwardly, twisting my ankle.
‘There!’ Soren shouts. ‘Thief! Stop!’
Pain rips through my foot as I stumble. I can’t run. Thinking fast, I drop to the ground and roll under the trailer.
Soren’s feet stomp the gravel as he jumps from his horse.
‘Where’d he go?’ Petronis shouts, also dismounting. ‘I’ll check this way; you clear the trees.’
Excellent plan, except Soren doesn’t follow through. He inches closer, using his torch to inspect the trailer. He’s so close I can see the caked dust on his tall leather boots.
I hold my breath, knowing he’s going to bend down and look underneath.
Carefully, I try to climb the axles of the wheels to pull myself up off the ground.
My throbbing ankle burns from where I’ve wedged it.
The sweat on my hands makes my grip slip.
Worst of all, my hood falls back, and my ponytail falls out.
It’s dangling, touching the ground, but I don’t have a free hand to tuck it away.
My tiny pants of breath feel like thunder in the air.
Soren takes another pebble-scattering step. I close my eyes and murmur another prayer. If he finds me, I’ll just have to put my hood back up and fight him. Both him and Petronis, then get away.
Suddenly, a hand grips my hair. ‘Gotcha,’ he says and yanks. It comes with a sound like grass being torn free from the earth.
The pain in my scalp is blinding, and a cry leaks from me as I fall, unable to keep my grip. Soren goes still. ‘What the –’ His surprise turns to pleasure. ‘Are you a … girl?’ Then with utter brutality, he attempts to drag me out from under the trailer.
Kicking off the bottom of the wagon, I spin and sweep his legs, knocking him on his back. The torch flies into the grass and flickers out. It’s enough – his hold on me releases.
Roll. Get out of here. And I try, except my execution is sloppy. My head is in agony, and I’m struggling to think. I resort to crawling away like a spider under a boot’s shadow.
‘Come back here, little girl.’
It’s both a blessing and a curse that it’s now so dark. He can’t see me, but I also don’t know which direction to go.
My breaths are too loud as his footsteps crunch the ground, rounding the trailer. He’s hunting me.
‘I’ve got your hair,’ he taunts. ‘Do you want it back?’
‘Yes,’ rasps a low voice.
Soren’s feet scuff through the gravel as he spins around. ‘Who’s there?’ he demands.
I stiffen. That wasn’t Petronis.
Then a bone-chilling cry comes from Soren. It abruptly cuts off.
There’s a struggle. A grunt. Then the sound of skin meeting skin in brutal fashion. A body drops to the ground.
I can’t breathe. What happened?
‘He’s out. But not for long.’
Ryland.
Rolling twice, I clear the remainder of the trailer overhead and push to my feet. Pain stabs my ankle. It’s so dark, I don’t even see Petronis’s torch. Why? Did Ryland get to him first?
Ryland helped me.
It’s taking a moment for that to sink in, but as it does, I’m overcome with gratitude. And confusion. How did he know?
I strain to see into the trailer. There’s no time to take more or even retrieve what I threw into the ditch, which is a problem, because if anyone finds it, they’ll know exactly what I’ve been up to.
A groan rises from Soren.
My heart feels like it’s been kicked.
Ryland’s arm finds me and wraps around my stomach, pulling me away. I step on my hurt foot and take in a sharp breath.
‘You’re hurt?’ he whispers, then he’s lifting me into his arms.
‘No, I can push through it. I don’t think I’m that hurt.’ I squirm out of his grasp and lead the way into the forest, running with a hitch in my step. There’s nothing else we can do right now.
This raid was an utter loss.