7 Sage and Blackberries #2
“I presume that means another silver tomorrow night?” She glanced at Eli and took a bite of food. She couldn’t taste it.
“You don’t owe me anything.” Eli said a little sharper than she’d expected. “It’s covered by the Crown.”
She nodded her head, chewing slowly, then swallowed. “Good to know I won’t be starting my time on the Guard indebted to anyone.”
The men exchanged a glance.
“You won’t be starting your duty,” Eli said. “There’s a great deal to learn before you wear the crest.”
“I’ve been training for four years. I’ll be fine.” She had to be. She needed access to the Royal Library and the answers she would find there. Her chances of getting inside the place were considerably better if she was part of the Royal Guard. If she had to waste more time training… Not an option.
“I thought you couldn’t start until sixteen?” Eli looked to Jurah. The older man nodded.
“I trained by myself first,” she said, waving a hand. “It doesn’t matter.” But it did. She had trained to protect others, and it had taken her all of one day to fail.
“Training by yourself is not the same as training with instruction.”
“I never said I didn’t have instruction.”
Eli raised an eyebrow.
Vaelira sighed. “I used to spy on the guard training and practice the moves myself. Okay?”
“Is that allowed?” Eli turned to Jurah again.
Jurah shrugged.
Eli let out an exasperated sound then turned back to his plate.
Vaelira studied him, watching as his brow furrowed, his jaw and throat working as he swallowed his food.
She would be damned to the Abyss before letting this overbearing guard stand between her and the answers she needed. Even if she didn’t know what she would do when she found them.
The sun stood high when the three set out the next morning. Vaelira watched the lake as they rode, admiring the blurred reflection of two birds soaring overhead, dark shapes gliding across a pale blue sky.
The mountains loomed closer now, though still faint behind the towering pines.
Stumps lined the road and riverbank as they approached the forest's edge and Vaelira eyed the trees warily.
Their tall limbs swayed in the wind, their sharp needles already blanketing the road and muffling the clack of hooves beneath them.
“We’ll be out before dark,” Jurah said from behind her. “The forest is thin here. Amrien will keep the beasts at bay.” A patch of cloud drifted aside, sunlight spilling over the path ahead and turning it gold, as if the Sun Goddess herself had heard him.
They rode in silence for a while, the forest swallowing sound as though the world were holding its breath. The air was cool and damp beneath the trees. Shadows lined the road, bright sunlight no longer warming her skin.
After some time, Eli raised a hand and slowed his horse. Millie tossed her head and Vaelira pulled at her reins, coming to a stop. “Stone in the hoof,” Eli muttered as he dismounted.
Vaelira turned to find Jurah watching the trees, a hand already on the pommel of his sword. She mimicked the action, finding where her blade was strapped to the saddle and letting her thumb brush over the ruby on the pommel.
They waited as Eli crouched, muttering under his breath and lifting a hoof. Time slipped by with agonizing slowness, each minute cutting into the precious daylight. Finally, he lowered the horse’s leg and swung back into the saddle. They rode on, faster than before.
The trees thickened, pine trunks rising like pillars on either side of the narrow path. The road began to curve back towards the river, and they crossed a narrow, moss-covered bridge, the water roaring beneath them. As they reached the other side, Vaelira spotted something.
A figure lay prone across the path. A woman.
She reined in sharply. “There’s someone—”
“Stay mounted,” Eli said, his voice hard, but she was already swinging her leg over the saddle. Millie shifted beneath her.
“Vaelira, don’t—” Jurah barked, but she ignored him. The woman needed help.
As soon as her boots hit the earth, something slammed into her from behind.
Strong arms clamped around her middle, dragging her backwards and digging her bow painfully into her lower back.
She kicked, twisting for her dagger, Jon’s dagger, but the blade was wrenched from its sheath before she had the chance.
“Easy, sweetheart,” a deep voice drawled near her ear. “You’ve got fast hands. But I’m faster.”
She stilled, heart pounding as the scent of sage and blackberries encompassed her. She looked for the woman, but she was gone.
“Purses,” the man said, his tone mild. “Now.”
Eli’s entire body had gone rigid, his eyes locked on the man. On the Wasteland raider, she realised. So much for their big swords.
Heat rose to her cheeks as she realised how reckless she had been. How na?ve.
Jurah’s hand twitched but dropped as the raider pressed something hard against her ribs, right where her stitches had been. Nausea rose in her throat.
The man chuckled. “Fine. I’ll even let you keep your pretty little weapons.” His voice turned mocking. “Wouldn’t want you stuck out here defenceless, would we?”
Vaelira’s looked up. The sky was beginning to darken. A shiver ran through her at the thought of what would come for them if they weren’t out of here soon.
“Smart folk know better than to linger in the trees after dark,” the raider continued, as if having read her mind. “Purses. Now.”
His hand splayed across her stomach as he pulled her tighter, pressing the flat side of the blade harder into her side. Her heart slammed against her ribs, raging to be free of the feeble body that was so easily disarmed by this man.
Elijah threw his down first, and Jurah followed. Coins clinked heavily as they hit the ground. A woman darted forward and snatched up the purses before disappearing once more.
Fool. She had been a damned fool.
Vaelira turned her head just enough to glimpse the man towering over her. She didn’t know what she had expected to see. Perhaps a scarred, mutilated face, or pitch-black eyes. A visage suited to those they called demoncursed.
What she saw was none of those things.
Short hair so bright it was almost white.
Golden, sun-kissed skin. A cowl covered the lower half of his face, so only his eyes were exposed.
Ice-blue and breathtaking. They slid to her, and her pulse stuttered, his gaze locking her in an iron-clad grip.
She’d never seen eyes so vibrant, so cold, yet filled with a warm mischief that didn’t match the threat of the blade he held to her side.
Half a breath passed, then he shoved her forward and she landed hard, the impact sending a jolt up her arms. She twisted away from him, raising her hands in defence, but he was already gone.
Boots thudded and hurried forward. Her heart hammered as she gasped down lungsful of air, sharp pain lancing through her chest.
No, not now. Not now.
Strong arms lifted her, broad hands resting on her shoulders. Dark eyes. A sharp jaw. A curved nose.
Eli’s voice was muffled over the pounding in her ears. “Breathe,” he said. “Just breathe, Vaelira.”
She closed her eyes and sucked in a long breath. Leather and pine, and something she didn’t recognise.
“We have to move,” said Jurah. “Now, Elijah.”
He helped her to Millie, offering clasped palms to lift her into the saddle. She clenched her eyes shut and took another deep breath. Now wasn’t the time. She couldn’t afford to break.
She gripped the pommel of her sword, the familiar shape a comfort in her palm. Then she patted the sheath at her hip.
Empty.
The raider had stolen her dagger, and with it, the last piece of her brother.