8. Lilias
Lilias
I CAN brING YOU HOME
Idon’t like the way the man leading this group looks at my mare, and I really don’t like the way his stallion looks at her. The stallion prances on the edge of the road, holding his tail high and completely ignoring the way the woman with his lead rope tries to pull him back.
“Honey,” I whisper to the mare. “You can do much better than that.”
She shivers as I scratch her ears, but that does nothing to reassure me. I don’t know much about this mare, and I didn’t think to ask when she had her last cycle. Zarek is riding a gelding; why would it matter?
But the blood bay stallion who looks so out of place in this group wouldn’t be so damn interested in her if she wasn’t getting close to her heat.
And that could really complicate our lives.
If she does go into heat, the stallion won’t want to let her leave.
But we can’t leave her behind, and I’m not about to trade this sturdy, healthy mare for the poor old gray nag this group is pulling behind one of the wagons.
Although, by the way the man leading the group keeps looking at her, I think that trade is exactly what he has in mind.
My hand tightens around my mare’s lead rope. The light is fading fast, and I’m half tempted to tell Zarek we should just leave, ride off into the darkness once everyone falls asleep. But from the look of that damn stallion, he would notice.
My gut shifts around the meal we just shared with the smugglers. I’m still not sure what it was, and I didn’t want to ask. Zarek helped them cook it, and I joined the women who were washing the battered tin plates and cups, imitating what they were doing. My hands still ache from the hot water.
The group of smugglers was silent as we ate. I couldn’t tell if it was because they’re tired or if they just don’t trust us.
If it’s the latter, the feeling is mutual.
I drop my hand to pat my leg through the rough linen pants Agnes gave me.
I’m still wearing the dagger from Zarek.
The gods only know what Agnes must have thought when I arrived at her cabin, half dead and streaked with blood, with a dagger strapped to my thigh.
But she didn’t say anything, and when I woke up, the dagger and its sheath were sitting on the table in my room.
I’m glad for it now. I’m starting to see why Zarek wears so many knives.
I pull the saddle off my mare, then untie her lead rope. She snorts and drops to the ground, rolling in the thick grass. I put her saddle down, then do the same for Zarek’s gelding.
“Is this what you thought it’d be like?” A man’s rough voice cuts through the growing darkness.
I jump. When I turn around, Toth stands behind me, framed by the light of the dying fire.
“A fine young thing like you,” Toth continues, stepping closer. “Traveling hard, sleeping rough. What would your daddy say?”
My throat pulls tight, and my chest aches. I think of my father leaving his carriage, waving Mel aside. Vanishing into the massive tent beneath the blue and scarlet flag of Vsenrog.
“You’ve had it pretty soft, ain’t you?” Toth asks, in a lower voice. “You don’t even know how to do the washing up.”
I turn away, shame burning in my cheeks. I thought I did a good job with the dishes. I didn’t think anyone would be able to tell I’d never done it before.
Toth takes a step closer. I pull back, glancing at the fire, looking for Zarek. I don’t see him.
“Pretty girl like you,” Toth says. “I bet Daddy’s got a reward for your return, don’t he?”
“M-My husband will be right here—” I stammer.
Toth laughs, cutting me off.
“I sent him ahead to scout the road,” Toth replies, taking another step closer to me.
I can smell him now, the sting of sweat and something hard and cold, like iron.
“Told him it was the least he could do, seeing as how we took you strays in.” His eyes glint in the firelight.
“Because we have something to discuss here, you and me.”
“You and I,” I reply, reflexively.
Toth grunts, then spits at my feet. “Don’t get cute with me.”
I try to swallow, but my throat has gone dry. The saddle is at my ankles, stopping me from backing up any further. I could scream, but hells, would anyone in the little camp come to help?
Toth leans in, his hot breath washing over my face.
“How much of a reward, do you think?” he asks.
“What?”
“Your daddy,” Toth sneers. “How much do you think he’s offering to bring you back?”
I open my mouth to say my father is dead, then think better of it.
“I doubt he’s offering anything,” I snap.
Toth laughs, low and rough. “Look, lady, this can work out good for both of us. You really want to stick with the raggedy bastard who dragged you here? Or you want to go on home, sleep in a bed again?”
My eyes sting. Home? Where is that?
“I could bring you home,” Toth says.
He grabs my arm.
I don’t think. My body responds, doing exactly what I did over and over again in the field with Petrys. I bend at my waist, drive my elbow into Toth’s gut, and then pull him down as the air escapes his lungs.
Toth collapses on the ground with a grunt and a sound like a wet sack hitting stone. I jump backward, putting the saddles between me and the man sputtering on the grass.
“You fucking whore,” Toth spits.
He scowls up at me, his face contorted with rage.
“Don’t touch me again,” I say. By some miracle, my voice is level and calm. “My father is dead. And I’m not leaving my husband.”
I glance toward the fire, and thank the gods, there he is. His face is in shadow, but I know the figure running toward us is Zarek. The gelding even raises his head and nickers a hello as the snake of Vsenrog comes up to me.
“Is everything okay?” Zarek asks.
Toth grunts again as he drags himself up to standing. He’s hunched over, with an arm wrapped around his gut.
“You and your fucking bitch of a wife,” Toth growls. “We get past the toll, and I never want to see either of you bastards again.”
Zarek’s hand drops to the dagger in his belt. His face changes, turning as cool as a marble statue.
“You call my wife a bitch one more time,” Zarek says in an icy voice, “and that will be the last thing you ever say.”
Toth growls, spits, and then turns his back on us. Zarek moves toward me as Toth limps back to the ragged wagons circled around the dying fire.
“What happened?” Zarek whispers. “Are you hurt?”
I open my mouth to tell him everything. But instead, I start to cry. Zarek pulls his cloak around me, and all I can think as he holds me against his chest is that Toth was right.
I am soft.