2. CHAPTER TWO
Alena clutched Octavia’s clammy hand, and together, the girls raced as fast as they could. Thorny bushes and low branches snagged at their clothes and scratched their faces. Thorny bushes and low branches snagged at their clothes and scratched their faces.
Who were the riders? Had they come to seek out the Marked healer? Or had they followed her and Octavia all the way from Camp Bessi?
Alena tore through the trees in a panic. If they managed to hide, they might still have a chance to sneak back into camp and plead their case to Demetrius, a councilman and friend of her father’s. He would understand.
A stitch jabbed at her side, and she winced. Beside her, Octavia stumbled. They could never outrun horses.
Desperate, Alena searched the forest for a hiding spot.
“Octavia—here. Quick!” She pulled the girl down behind a fallen tree concealed by a tangle of shrubs and ferns. They pressed close, their breaths coming in rapid bursts as they scanned the trees.
The riders were nowhere to be seen. Had they lost them?
Octavia’s body trembled against hers, and a pang of guilt seized Alena. She never should have let Octavia join her on this foolish journey. Octavia’s parents barely allowed her to accompany Alena to bathe in the creek or play in the hills, even with Katell keeping watch. If they were caught breaking the Sacred Law, the consequences would be terrible.
For both of them.
The air grew still, punctuated only by the cheerful chorus of chirping birds. Up ahead, through the thinning tree line, the golden steppe lay bare beneath a clear blue sky.
With any luck, the Marked woman had managed to send the riders away, and they could still meet as planned.
“Let’s hide a while longer,” Alena whispered. “The riders can’t find us—”
A string of explosive barks cut her off. Alena tensed, an icy shiver crawling up her spine. A rider’s dark silhouette appeared on the ridge beyond the forest’s edge.
Then another rider emerged, and another.
They were surrounded.
The riders might not have spotted them yet, but the hounds drawing closer by the moment would never miss them.
Stars be damned, how could the riders have known that they’d gone to the Marked healer?
“Alena.” Octavia grabbed Alena’s arm, her eyes brimming with tears and her lip quivering. “Alena, I’m so sorry.”
“No, this isn’t your fault—”
“I warned Father of your plans.” Octavia’s voice teetered on the brink of bursting into sobs. “When you told me you were going to find the Marked healer, I was so scared for you. I thought Father would stop you before you left… but he told me to follow you instead. He wanted you to go. He—” She buried her face in her hands.
A cold weight settled in Alena’s stomach. They both knew the punishment for interacting with a Marked one, yet her childhood friend had chosen to betray her rather than disobey her father—a smarmy man who’d always coveted the position of councilman. He’d once caught Alena inside a storage tent rifling through some scrolls and dragged her before the elders like a criminal. Her father had intervened, and she’d gotten off with a stern warning, but she’d never forget the triumphant glint in the man’s eye when he’d apprehended her.
Now he’d laid out a trap and, like a blind fool, Alena had stumbled right into it. Katell would be furious.
Howls drowned out Octavia’s sobs, and they both looked up. Huge hounds sprinted towards them, frothing at the mouth.
Crushing panic gripped Alena in its tight fist. She’d seen what hounds did to their prey once caught—tearing animals and men alike to pieces.
“Get up.” She seized Octavia’s arm. “Hurry!”
Clambering to her feet, Alena revealed herself to the riders, and one of them whistled low. The hounds veered around the girls, obeying without fault, sailing through the undergrowth back towards their master.
Alena stood still, her heart hammering against her ribcage. She knew better than to run. It was over.
The riders approached, bows on their backs and daggers at their waists.
She bit down on her cheek to keep herself from screaming at them. Five armed men on horseback to track down two girls—had they expected a fight?
All she’d done was meet a Marked healer, yet they were hunting her like a criminal. It wasn’t fair. She only wished to save her father. Why couldn’t they understand?
The Freefolk might have fled the Old Lands to escape relentless wars and cruel gods, but none of them were truly free. They’d locked themselves away in camps instead, far from any civilisation, herding sheep and goats and imposing the Sacred Law on all without exception. The first settlers had severed all ties with their gods and proclaimed all magic to be harmful, even the healing kind.
The master of the hounds approached them first and dismounted. It was Demetrius, her father’s friend. At the sight of his towering figure, a weight lifted off Alena’s chest. She moved to greet him, but the grave look on his bearded face stopped her.
“Alena, youngest daughter of Damocles.” The deep lines etched across his face spoke heavily of unease. “In making a bargain with a Marked one, you have violated our Sacred Law. You were even prepared to bring her to Camp Bessi.”
“Yes, it’s true. I won’t deny it, but I had no choice,” she said, striving to make him understand, but he avoided her gaze. “I did everything I could as a healer, but it wasn’t enough. Demetrius, please. Father needs her help. He’ll die.”
Pursing his lips, he strode forward and snatched her arm, his grip like steel. “The elders have ordered that you be brought back to camp and punished accordingly.”
Her chest tightened. This couldn’t be happening.
“No, wait!” She glanced at the other riders, but their faces were hardened, indifferent to her pleas. “I’ll come with you back to camp. I’ll accept any punishment the elders see fit. But, please, let the woman heal him. My father—”
“—is dead,” Demetrius cut in, his tone softening. Somewhere behind her, Octavia gasped. “I’m sorry, Alena. It’s too late. He passed this morning. May his ancestors watch over him for all eternity.”
The other riders bowed their heads in respect.
“No, he… Elder Yorn was with him…” she trailed off, searching his tanned face for any hint of a lie. Demetrius’ words didn’t make any sense. Her father couldn’t be dead. She’d found the Marked healer to save him. She’d gambled everything to find the woman for him, sneaking out of Camp Bessi with her most precious possessions, trekking all day across the steppe to reach the forest, striking a bargain…
It couldn’t have been all for nothing. There had to be some mistake.
“I don’t understand,” she heard herself say as if from a great distance.
A fleeting glimpse of sympathy flickered across Demetrius’ face, and his voice dropped to a hushed tone. “Elder Yorn said it was the fever that took him. There was nothing you could have done, Alena. I’m sorry.”
His words echoed in her ears, solidifying a truth her mind struggled to grasp. Her father was gone. It was too late.
Something warm spilled down her cheeks, and her chin trembled.
The councilman wrapped a muscled arm around her shoulders, and she crumpled against him. He pulled her into his chest, shielding her as she failed to stifle her sobs.
“We need to leave,” a rider spoke up.
“In a moment,” Demetrius snapped. “Octavia, get on a horse.”
Her friend obeyed, shuffling past without a word. Alena clung to Demetrius’ cloak, gulping ragged breaths, her shoulders shaking. She couldn’t fall apart. Not in front of them all. Katell would hate it.
At the thought of her sister, she pulled away and inhaled a few breaths, grounding herself.
“You’ve damned yourself, reckless girl.” Demetrius released a deep sigh. “We shouldn’t have sent your sister away. Your father wouldn’t have wanted this.”
She bit her lip, holding back a fresh wave of tears. She’d broken the Sacred Law, and now the Council would punish her with exile or death. Without a father or husband to protect her, they had no reason to show mercy. Katell might have been able to reason with them, but the hunters weren’t expected back for days.
Demetrius led her to a horse, hoisting her up in front of one of the riders, who clamped down on her waist. There was no escaping now.
They left the darkening forest behind and headed back to camp.
Alena threaded her fingers through the horse’s thick mane to steady herself. The vastness of the steppe blurred before her eyes. Tall, golden grasses blended with the bright, spring green of the shrubs that had learned to survive in the arid land.
The harsh life of the Freefolk camps had never felt like home to her. She’d always longed to escape to the hot climate of the Achaean kingdoms, filled with marble buildings, colourful statues, and olive trees. Or see Kisra, the Rasennan capital, with its hundred columned temples that, according to her father’s scrolls, were tall enough to touch the sky.
She’d never imagined her first adventure outside the camp would end up spelling her doom. What would Katell say?
Peering over her shoulder, she asked the rider, “Any news from the hunters?”
“None. Your sister can’t help you this time.”
She flinched at his callous tone. Katell would no doubt never want to see her again.
Alena had broken her promise and failed to heal their father. For once, she’d hoped to be the one to save their family, as her sister had done countless times with her hunting prowess.
But all Alena’s efforts had been for nothing, and their father had died without either daughter at his side.
She’d never forgive herself, and neither would Katell.