Chapter Thirty-Two #2
I step away from him and scan the area, counting. The leader didn’t lie. There are twelve broken, bloody bodies scattered around our campsite.
“We killed them all?”
“We killed them all,” Trick says with grim satisfaction as he walks over from the other side of the fire. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.” Suddenly, I remember and whirl around. “Elianna?”
She’s fine, too, but there’s a scowl on her face. “Yes. Good. Fine.”
Sergeant Neville jumps out of the wagon and offers Elianna a hand. She takes it and climbs down.
“This is unfortunate. We can’t leave them here like this. It would be like building a giant red arrow that says: Dangerous people ahead, follow them,” the Air Touched says flatly.
“Most wouldn’t want to follow dangerous people,” Bern says, sheathing his sword. “Maybe it can serve as a warning?”
“No,” Kaelen says quietly. “She’s right. The Zhagarn and Fell won’t be impressed by a mere dozen dead bounty hunters. We should hide these bodies and the signs of the fight, as much as we can.”
“Their cage, too,” I spit out, glaring at the offensive thing with its shackles bolted to the frame.
“If we had time, we could break it down and burn it, but we should get back on the road as soon as possible,” Sergeant Neville says, brushing his hands off on his pants. His sword is already back in its sheath. I hope he cleaned that man’s blood off it.
“We’ll move it into the woods,” Trick says, but he’s watching me. “Soli, are you sure you’re okay?”
I nod, my mind on other things. Maybe I should retrieve the dagger … my dagger … from the dead man’s back, too? Clean it? Clean all that … blood off it?
I stumble back, just a step, and Kaelen glances at me sharply. Then he bends down, pulls my dagger out of the dead man, and wipes the blade off on the man’s shirt.
“Great job,” he murmurs when he hands it back to me.
I don’t want it, but I take it and stare at it in silence for a long moment before looking up at my companions. “Yes. We should hide this … them. And get on the road.”
When I shove the dagger back in its sheath, the sight of my GM brand, uncovered when Kaelen’s bracelet falls back, fills me with despair.
“We’re not safe, though. We won’t be until we cross out of Khyrrus.
If we run into more bounty hunters, this horrible brand will give me away.
I don’t want to put all of you at risk again because they see me as easy prey. ”
Closing my eyes, I fight hard to think of a solution but can’t.
Finally, in despair, I say, “Maybe we should … cut my arm off?”
“Severing limbs. Always fun,” Chitai says cheerfully. “But Soli, you’re not that important. They’d come for Elianna, too, if they saw her Guild marks. And you heard that scum. He wanted me. To sell me.” She spits in the direction of his corpse. “Who’s a sweet little thing now?”
“Chitai is right. Also, cutting any part of you off is not an option,” Kaelen says, pulling me close. “We will keep you safe.”
“As you kept me safe,” Andras says. “I owe you a life debt.”
“No, you don’t—”
He waves off my protest. “I have some little talent for drawing and needlework. I offer to cover the Gray Mind brand with a design of your choosing. You’ve been marked like cattle for far too long.”
My mouth falls open, and I know I’m gaping at him, but I can’t seem to help it. By “needlework,” I know he’s not talking about embroidery. A Sylvan artist is offering to cover my hideous brand with a tattoo, one of their culture’s most revered forms of art.
“I’d have to be a fool to say no to that,” I say honestly, and he laughs again.
“One thing I’m sure of is that you’re no fool.”
“When can we do it?” I bite my lip. “I’m sorry. Whenever you have time—”
“Now would be good. This fight shows you shouldn’t spend a single hour more wearing that brand. What shall it be?”
“A dagger would be a fine thing,” Chitai says, studying her own arm and then casting a speculative look at Andras.
“Maybe another time,” he tells her.
“A horse?” Sergeant Neville, the cavalry soldier, says.
“The amulet?” Elianna offers half-heartedly, and we all stare at her in disbelief.
“So, no,” she says, widening her eyes comically. “Who suggested that?”
I shake my head, but I’m amused.
Bern suggests a butterfly, and the look in his eye makes me wonder if they were a favorite of Lil’s. Trick’s idea is my name—Soli, or even Solitude—in beautiful script lettering, which is interesting and the most enticing idea so far.
Kaelen is the only one who doesn’t weigh in. He just studies me with calm focus, waiting for me to decide.
“I want something to honor this journey we’re all on,” I finally say, and the chatter dies down. “But also something that considers the shape of the brand, so it can fully transform from a mark of pain to one of hope.”
Andras extends his hand. “May I?”
I move the bracelet covering the brand to my other wrist and show Andras, tracing the GM. “Sometimes, if I squint, I think it looks a little like a crescent moon over mountains. I used to imagine it representing the traveling I’d do one day when I was free. And now … I am.”
Kaelen takes my hand in his and brings it to his lips, right in front of everyone. I feel my face flame with heat, but I smile at him.
“Now that you’re free, you should have the design you want the most. The one that celebrates your courage and your freedom,” he says, and I realize he’s right.
“The crescent moon over the Panterran Mountains, then,” I say decisively. And then I smile at Trick. “I’ve always been fond of snow leopards, and they lived there.”
My friend grins at me, at this bit of shared history between us—the knowledge of the wooden carving he gave me that I hold so dear. “Maybe a snow leopard, too?” he says.
“Another time. Just the moon and mountains for now. Would that be okay?” I ask Andras.
“Yes.” He bends to his saddlebag for a small silver box, and I go lightheaded at the realization that all this talk of art and design is well and good, but now he’s going to poke needles into my skin.
Needles.
Into my skin.
I raise my hand. “Is it too late to change my mind?”
Kaelen laughs, and Andras holds up a needle.
Definitely too late.