“A Naros,” she said. “You’re very far from home, pale one.”
“What home?” Meridan commented.
The Kroan cocked her head. “Indeed.”
I glanced down at the girl, but her expression hadn’t changed. “Is she under your influence?”
“Her? She was overcome by madness before we arrived. A beggar on the streets. She’s no harm to anyone but herself.”
“Where is her family?”
Her eyes narrowed and her head tilted to the other side like a curious bird. “Why do you care?”
When I didn’t answer, she took a step toward me, her bare feet blackened by soot and mud. I rested my hand on Vidar’s cutlass and immediately, she stopped, eyeing the weapon.
“You smell of human filth,” she said flatly. “And hemsbane.” Her hand slowly rose to point a finger at the blade. “Tell me. Is there a bronze blade in that leather scabbard you carry?”
“If there is?”
The corner of her mouth angled upward. “They all say you’re a treacherous bitch.”
“You know who I am.”
She lifted her chin, gently touching her fingers to the soft flesh of her throat, indicating the scar that stretched across mine.
“I know who you are. Reyna’s disgrace of a daughter. Not even Ligeia could properly execute you. They say vermin don’t die easily.”
“Could you have done better?” I said.
“Perhaps.” Her gaze slowly traveled toward Meridan and her bone knife. “But what does it matter now? If you haven’t noticed, things are not as they used to be.”
“Why are you here?” I asked. “You look free enough. Go back to the sea.”
“Free?” she chuffed. “No one is free,Dahlia.”
I swallowed, adjusting my weight to one leg. “You know my name and yet I don’t know yours.”
A humorless chuckle left her as she turned from me and started walking away. “You planning to spare me long enough to care?”
Meridan and I exchanged a confused glance.
“How many of you are here?” I called after her.
She kept walking, ignoring my question entirely. Determined to get answers, I started walking after her, glancing once over my shoulder to see the young girl crouching down next to a puddle on the street, dipping her fingers into the muddy water and hummingsoftly to herself. The horse had settled on the other side of the road near a patch of thick grass and began to graze, its ears turning this way and that as if it was still on edge.
“So much for being subtle,” Meridan commented.
When we reached the main square, I surveyed the area to find the church steeple, making sure not to lose our way. The town was tightly packed. The alleys were narrow and the buildings were many. In the square, the scent of rotting flesh hit me again like I’d been backhanded. I wrinkled my nose at the familiar yet unpleasant odor and glimpsed a wagon near the side of a house filled with bodies. Or what was left of bodies. Mostly, they were skeletons stripped of their meat save for the stunned expressions frozen on their faces. Those remained, all at various stages of decomposition. Perched on the freshest of the bodies were crows, squawking as they fed on the soft tissue from the empty eye sockets.
The Kroan stopped, turning to face them once she reached the middle of the square.
“We’re running low on villagers, but a merchant ship is bound to sail this way with fresh stock eventually. Or perhaps the navy. Wouldn’t that be a treat?”
“You ate them all,” I muttered.
“Not all. Some are useful.”
“For what?”
