“Take this.” He passed her a thin blade. It had a curled pewter hilt set with a trio of rubies, and she knew it had been his grandfather’s. He’d played with it as a boy, so many years before.
She gripped it tightly. “Thank you.”
“When it’s time, you can kick away the stones we’re going to lay—there’s no lime between them, and we’ve put in a support beam so that the rest of the wall will hold. I’m putting some old wheat sacks in front of the new stones to hide them. You’ll need to move them.”
His scales were over his face, and his claws were back. Gods.
She wanted to cry and beg and demand that they all hide. Or that they might run, now, together. But she knew that Val couldn’t be moved, and that this was Tristan’s last resort plan. If he thought this was their best option, then it was. She did her best to keep her voice from shaking as she replied, “I understand.”
“Remember what I said. I love you. And I want you to know that I will never walk away from you, Nim—but I will fight for you.”
Nim nodded, not trusting herself to reply.
He closed his eyes for a moment, throat working as if he was going to say more. But he didn’t.
And then he was gone.
There was a rough scraping noise as stones were quickly added to the wall, the gap narrowing and then disappearing with a final thud. She had expected total darkness, but the old stone wall had small chinks and cracks that let in dusty shards of dim gray light.
The low voices of the Hawks murmured in muffled conversation, at first in the mill, and then outside the farmhouse as they finished their speedy preparations.
It had been less than ten minutes since the first sentry’s whistle.
She looked over at Keely. Her ashen face was smeared with dirt where she had wiped it after their crawl, and she was holding her bandaged arm protectively.
Val whimpered, and the horrifying thought occurred to her that someone might hear him. She passed a blanket to Keely, who wrapped it around her shoulders, and then they spread the other one out over Val. Next, she rifled through the bag Rafe had given her and found the sleeping draught. She lifted Val’s head and poured a little into his mouth, waited for him to swallow, and then gave him more.
She was giving him the last mouthful when Keely went rigid next to her. A few seconds later, she heard it herself. Hoofbeats.
She leaned back against the cold stone and waited, wishing she could see what was happening, or do something to help. But she knew that being found with the Hawks would only guarantee their deaths.
Outside, everything was still for one last moment.
Then there was a thundering of hooves and horn calls. Shouted commands, jangling of bits, and then the thuds of men dismounting in the dusty courtyard.
“I thought I’d find you here.” She shivered at the sound of that hated voice. Grendel.
Keely’s small hand nudged her arm, and she took it thankfully, and they clung to each other in the darkness.
“Where else would I be?” Tristan’s voice sounded cool and arrogant.
“I told you to go to the barracks.”
“We tried it. Liked it better here.”
“And where is here exactly?” Grendel asked.
“The home of a friend of my father’s. He loaned it to us while we found our place back among the Blues.”
“Is that so?” Nim could just imagine Grendel’s oily sneer as he raised his voice and commanded, “Search the house!”
Boots thudded, doors slammed, something smashed. None of the Hawks responded.
And then a new voice. “It’s clear.”
“What?” Grendel, demanded, voice dripping with annoyed disbelief.
“There’s nothing.”
