25 UNTIE ME
Farther north … somewhere in The Goatfells.
THE WIND BIT to the bone in the mountains, but Kayla barely felt it.
Instead, she watched Car finish eating and wipe his greasy fingers on his breeches. Catching her staring, the warrior favored her with a thin smile. “Time for you to make up for all the trouble you’ve caused us.”
He reached for a leather knapsack and dragged it into his lap.
Kayla frowned. What was he up to?
Aye, she’d fought them all the way north. Her body ached from all the beatings she’d taken, but defiance still burned. She’d keep trying to escape—right to the bloody end.
Conversation quieted around the hearth as the others shifted their attention to Car.
He unwrapped the bundle. Leather unfurled to reveal tools she knew well. Needles, vials, and pigments. A pestle and mortar. Tattooist’s tools.
Not hers though.
“Let’s see what you can do,” Maol said from across the fire. His voice held a hard edge, cutting through the crackle of flames and the whisper of the wind through the trees.
Kayla glanced up, her frown sliding into a scowl. “No.”
Maol sighed and tossed the bones of the waterfowl he’d just eaten into the fire. Sparks leapt upward, swallowed by the dark.
Car shifted closer then, tapping his right bicep with a blunt finger. There was a small area of uninked pale skin, in between a coiled serpent and a boar tattoo that covered his shoulder. “I want a double-headed axe here. One that makes this arm even stronger.”
“Fuck you.” Kayla kicked out, and her boot caught the edge of the leather roll.
The pestle tipped. One of the vials slipped free, smashed against a rock, and shattered. Dark pigment bled into the dirt.
Car’s face twisted. “You stupid bitch.”
Kayla flashed him a vindictive smile.
A couple of feet away, Ferroc, a warrior with close-cropped fair hair, growled a threat under his breath.
Kayla ignored him. Even so, her spine tensed as she readied herself for their fists. She’d take another beating if it got her out of this.
Meanwhile, Maol’s eyes caught the firelight. Silver flickered in their depths.
Kayla stilled. Of all of them, Maol was the only one she truly feared. There was a malice in him—a cruelty the others lacked.
“Are you going to refuse again?” He asked the question softly, with an undertone that made her belly tighten.
She didn’t answer him straight away. Instead, she flexed her bound wrists. The rope bit into broken skin. Her left wrist throbbed where the flesh had split earlier that day. Blood had dried stiff against her skin.
Let it hurt. It kept her sharp.
They’d wrapped her in a heavy cloak as they traveled, hiding the ropes when they passed through settlements. It hadn’t stopped her from trying to escape.
In Ardroth, she’d slipped free long enough to seize a pitchfork.
Seoc shifted now across the fire, his expression sour. His leg was stretched out before him, stiff. The wound she’d given him had turned angry: red, swollen, and weeping. It wasn’t deep enough to make him bleed out, but with any luck, it would kill him slowly.
Her gaze flicked between the men sitting around the fire. Five of them left. Maol, Car, Seoc, Ferroc, and Talon. She knew what they were now; she’d seen the way their tattoos had glowed at Gateway. Watched them move like warrior-druids. Had scented the earth magic clinging to them since.
“Do you even know what you’re asking for?” she said at last.
Car snorted. “It’s a tattoo, woman.”
“Aye, don’t pretend you haven’t been doing these on the sly for years in Braewall,” Seoc added.
Kayla’s gaze snapped to him. “A couple of small tattoos imbued with earth magic is one thing … but covering yourself with them is another. None of you are druids. You’re messing with things best left alone.”
The wind hissed through the trees, and somewhere in the distance, something howled.
Kayla didn’t fill the silence. She wanted it to work on them, for doubt to creep in.
It didn’t. Car merely stared her down, while Seoc sneered.
“I’ll say this just once.” Maol leaned forward, elbows braced on his knees. “Either you tattoo Car willingly … or I’ll give you to him.”
Across the fire, Car’s lips curved. Hunger glinted in his eyes.
Kayla’s gut clenched. I’ll take his throat out with my teeth if he touches me. Fury wasn’t enough, and neither was defiance.
Maol hadn’t issued an empty threat.
She needed time, an opportunity. A weakness she could exploit.
What if Ailsa is near?
The thought slammed into her, stealing her breath.
The lass was still tailing them; she was sure of it. She could almost see her—striding north with her jaw set, refusing to turn back even though she’d know this was folly.
Curse it. I should have known this day would come … I should have prepared her for it.
She pictured Ailsa once more, standing in the workshop doorway a couple of moons earlier.
Angry. Demanding freedom.
Kayla had shut the conversation down, as she always did.
Not now, lass. Later … when you’re ready.
But later never came.
For twenty-two years, she’d stood between Ailsa and the worst of the world: the drunks, the boorish, lewd customers—and the truth. Now she was trussed up like a Mid-Winter Fire goose while the lass walked straight into danger. Some protector she was.
If Ailsa caught up with them, she’d likely try to free Kayla and get herself killed doing so. She couldn’t let it come to that. She had to rescue herself.
Kayla dragged her attention back to the fireside.
To Maol and the choice before her.
If she refused, she had no doubt he’d make good on his threat. But if she agreed, she’d just be marking Car harder to fight.
She started to sweat. Everything was spiraling out of control. Think.
Maol’s gaze hadn’t left her. “What will it be?”
Kayla lifted her chin. “All right then.”
“Good.” Car edged toward her, a grin splitting his face. “Let’s get on with it.”
Across the fire, Maol’s gaze never left her face. “Watch yourself, tattooist,” he said softly.
Kayla’s lips curved, her fingers curling against the rope binding her wrists. “Untie me.”