She forced a trembling smile to her lips. “It’s okay. You’re safe. We’re home, but you need to keep your eyes open for me.”
Slowly, some lucidity filled her friend’s dark eyes. “Not safe.”
“You are. Isn’t she, Diaz?”
“Nothing and no one will get you here. I will make sure of it.”
Lo slowly shook her head. “No. The Northerners. They are coming.”
Lia’s brows furrowed. The Northerners? “The pale ones?”
“Yes. When they pinned me,” Loshika rasped, more tears dripping down her cheeks, “they spoke of spoils of war and payback for all who associated withsaloeslike the king.”
Dahlia sucked in a sharp breath.
War.
Adimedon.
Hate for the king.
They weren’t just bandits but a possible rebellion.
Loshika’s bottom lip trembled. “Go. News like this cannot wait.”
She shook her head. “No. I can’t leave you. I won’t.”
“You must.” She looked pointedly at Cosmos and then Hunt and Diaz. “This is life or death,Reilleve.”
Hunt and Diaz both froze, there gazes bouncing between Loshika and Dahlia. She stared down at her friend. There would be no hiding now.
Lia slowly lifted her head and gave the couple a pointed look. “There is much that is happening in our kingdoms. Not all is as it seems, but my need for discretion and protection for my friends and family is a must. Can I count on you?”
The husband and wife exchanged a glance before nodding. Diaz eyed her. “I knew you were hiding something.” She glanced at Cosmos. “He makes a lot more sense now.”
Dahlia pressed a kiss to Lo’s scarred cheek. “I’ll be back soon.” She spun on her heel and walked to Cosmos, who shook his head.
“No, you can’t go back,” he argued. “It’s not safe. You can’t leave.”
She pulled him into a hug, her cheek pillowed against his bony shoulder. “I’ll be back. You are never leaving my side again. Take care of Lo, please?”
Cos nodded, trying not to cry. Hunt glanced at her brother and waved him forward. “Come here, son, I need your help.”
She gave the kitchen one last lingering look and then forced herself out the double doors and through the exit into the alley. Her steps were silent as she made her way down the main roadway.
Dahlia didn’t feel the frigid breeze on her cheeks. Nor the snow seeping through her wet stockings. Or the blood that dripped sluggishly down her collarbone and chest. A whistle flew passed her lips, and Serenity replied.
She strode into camp with her dress torn, shoulder bloodied, and hands shaking.
Lanterns and firepits burned around the camp, painting the snow and canvas tents yellow and orange. No one paid her much attention at first except for the occasional knowing glance. Itwasn’t uncommon to find men and women warming the beds of warriors.
But it was when they got a good look at her and smelled her blood that the giants began to take notice. She’d reached the center of the camp when a warrior touched her shoulder. That was all it took to dissolve her false calmness.
She stabbed at his arm and then somehow ended up with a sword in her hands with the giant on the ground.
“Don’t touch me.”
“Niliave.”
