That’s too complicated to figure out, and I doubt Leah knows the answer.
I glance between her and the children again. “The soldiers took your money and food,” I say quietly. “How did you survive?”
She’s quiet for a long minute, and the weight of the silence presses down on us all. Eventually Saeth leans in and says, “Do you want me to—”
“No,” she says, and her voice is softer. “I’ll do it.” She pauses. “We were left under heavy guard. They wouldn’t leave us alone. Not to dress, not to wash, not to . . .” She shudders and looks away, pulling her shawl more tightly against herself. “Not to do anything. Buttheyhad to eat. Ruby would beg for their scraps. Most of themwould mock her. But sometimes they would give them to her. And sometimes she would sneak them to me.”
She’s ashamed by this; I can tell. The baby fusses in Saeth’s arms, but he bounces the infant a little and the child settles.
I look at my guardsman. “Were they still under guard when you arrived at your home?”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“How many?”
“Four.”
I look at him steadily, and he looks right back at me. I know we’re both remembering our final conversation in the wagon, before he left to fetch his family. We were worried his wife and children were being watched like the others—but not to this extent.
And I sent him off to face four armed guards alone.
“As soon as I saw them, I knew it was worse than we expected,” Saeth says, and there’s a dark tone to his words. “I had a choice to make. So I made it.”
He killed them. Saeth doesn’t need to say it. I can hear it in his voice.
I wonder if those men did more to his wife and family than what they’ve said. I consider the heavy tension in this house, the drawn shutters, the way his wife drew that shawl around herself.
I probably don’t need to wonder.
Corrick ordered a lot of terrible things as King’s Justice, but there’s a difference between execution and torture. A difference between justice and torment.
Baby William fusses again, so the guardsman taps him on the nose, then blows the wispy baby hair off his forehead. The infant startles and waves an arm, but then his face breaks out in a wide smile. Saeth smiles back at him.
I can understand now why Thorin didn’t accept his offer of relief this morning.
“Were you able to learn anything?” I say.
Saeth looks back at me. “No. But I knew if they were willing to put that many guards on my family, there was a greater chance that you and Thorin would encounter an ambush on the road.”
As we did.
And despite everything they’d been through, his starving wife and children followed him into the rain to come help us.
I lean in against the table and wish I had more to offer than words. My chest is tight. “Truly,” I say. “I am grateful for your sacrifice.”
Leah looks across the table at me. “I knew Adam wasn’t a traitor to Kandala. I’m still not sure about you.”
“I’m not poisoning my people, Mistress Saeth. I swear to you. Thisistreason and sedition, but it’s not from my side.”
“Who is it, then?”
“I don’t know for sure.” I glance at my guardsman, and I hate that I’m going to have to ask him to leave his family. But Thorin truly does need to rest, and I don’t want to do this next part alone. “I have one other man to question,” I say, “so I intend to find out.”
More people are out and about when we stride through the Wilds to fetch Quint before we question Sommer. Stares and whispers follow me, a stark reminder of everyone we lost last night—but no one approaches.
Saeth is quiet at my side, which isn’t unusual, but the silence feels too heavy. Nothing I can say to him seems adequate, however. There’s nothing I can offer. It’s not just everything he and his wiferevealed. It’s the weight of our failures pressing down, with no promise of relief. The day before we were attacked, he ran for miles, leading a pack of the night patrol out of the Wilds away from me. There’s a chance he’ll have to do it again. I wonder if I’ll be looking at an exhausted Saeth tonight, begging him to take leave, replacing him with a barely refreshed Thorin—a revolving cycle of guarding and fighting and sleeping with no end in sight.
“I’m sorry I made you leave your family,” I finally say.
