Malak and Kalith are deep in quiet conversation where they stand beside Asha’s sled.
“I understand the shame that her powerlessness brings upon your family.” Malak looks Kalith in the eye as he gives a quiet nod. “It is a heavy burden for you and Ayla to bear.”
“My wife struggles more than I,” Kalith says, his voice gruff. The way his lips press together and the words drag out of him tell me he didn’t want to speak that truth, but I’m certain that lying to Malak would be a very bad idea. Especially considering that Kalith did it once already today.
Malak’s expression remains unchanged, and yet there’s a hint of steel in his eyes. “Indeed. But Asha is your daughter, and I have commanded you to keep her alive as a test of your loyalty to me.”
He emphasizes the word ‘loyalty’ as he reaches out across the gap between them to grip Kalith’s shoulder with his right hand—the hand around which the black band of his metal is wrapped.
Kalith freezes at the contact, his own arms remaining at his sides while his fingers twitch.
Malak’s grip on Kalith visibly tightens. “You overlooked Asha in the pit,” he says, his voice dangerously low. “Your failure cost Blacksmiths their lives. Your penance will be to return the bodies of the fallen to their families and explain how they died.”
He doesn’t release Kalith from his steely gaze. “But I will not compound the shame of Asha’s disappearance. Our search for her began as a secret and it will continue as such.”
Kalith appears to exhale with relief. “None of these men knew why we were really traveling outside the city until I met them outside the wall this morning,” he says. “They didn’t have any opportunity to speak of Asha’s disappearance to anyone. They thought we were hunting for untainted wildlife like we have before.”
“And indeed we found some,” Malak says, indicating the wolves.
Kalith swallows. “The only other person who knows why we’re really out here is my wife, but if I need to speak to the families…”
There’s a question in his voice and I guess it’s because Malak ordered Kalith to tell the fallen men’s families how they died, which could include telling them the reason why.
“Nobody else has to know,” Malak says. “For that reason, you will tell the families of these men that they died valiantly fighting leopards that set upon us without warning. We killed the beasts, but these men’s wounds were fatal.”
He waits a moment for Kalith to nod before he continues. “Your cousin will not be happy to lose his favorite brother. You should be prepared for his ire.”
At that, Kalith’s attention shifts to Deron, where I’ve pulled him to the ground near the open end of the cart.
Kalith and Deron have the same copper-colored hair. I suspected they might be related, but it sounds like Deron is—was—one of Kalith’s cousins, which will make his death personal. At least to his extended family. Kalith himself doesn’t appear to be shedding any tears.
Malak demands Kalith’s attention while his voice once again becomes dangerously quiet. “You lied about the pit, Kalith. Do not mislead me again or you will know the consequences.”
Kalith’s expression wipes clean and this time, he doesn’t seem to breathe again until Malak releases him.
Kalith clears his throat. “What do you want to do about the other wolves?”
My ears prick up since it’s true that Malak only ordered me to load Skirra and Kori onto the cart.
Malak considers the three wolves chained to trees for a moment. “Release them. I know they’re here now. I will come for them if I wish.”
Kalith hovers for a moment and I suppose it’s because the wolves will likely attack him once they’re released. Or they might simply take their freedom while they can.
Kalith harnesses his metal to cover his arms and chest, but it turns out the wolves just want their freedom, each of them leaping to their feet and rushing away, the first stopping only long enough for the others to catch up.
The rest of their pack is still out there, and I take comfort knowing they will join them.
My hands are now bloody from my task and Deron’s body has left a thick, crimson trail behind me in the snow. Pulling the bodies up into the cart will be harder than dragging them across the ground, so I put off that task, setting about pulling all four of them to the base of the cart first.
Given what Malak said about blaming leopards for the deaths, I pull the arrows from Abdiel’s chest.
The puncture wounds don’t look anything like claw marks, and I’m not sure how they could be passed off as such.
Rising back to my feet, my chest heaving from the effort of hauling the fourth man to the cart, I find Malak gliding up to me.
He’s holding out one of my hunting knives.
I eye the weapon warily until he says, “Slash.” His lips stretch into an uncharacteristic smile. “Like the wolf you are.”
