Their captain looked at the line of orcs before he answered me. “We’re looking for the baron’s daughter, a girl with black hair. She was married behind his back, without his approval.”
“That’s a lie!” Khal roared behind me, but I held out my arms, kept my focus on the man in steel, who acted like he hadn’t heard.
“We heard tales that she had survived, and have come to take her home.”
“Approval or not, a wedding is a wedding, is it not?” My voice only almost-cracked. “Doesn’t the church have something to say about that?”
The man, whose eyes kept scanning the gathered warriors, shrugged. “That is above my rank, but you might speak to the baron about that. Annulments exist, in situations of coercion or deception. I’m sure his lordship will think of something, if it’s needed.”
I was nodding, numb. Of course, he would not worry about marrying me away again. He didn’t want marriage-chattel anymore; he wanted a sorceress.
His eyes scanned the line. “Can I assume you’re the wayward bride? Because I’d like to make this brief.” And I thought I was finished feeling, that all the feeling had drained out of me, but it hurt to nod. “I’m the daughter he sold,” I said, “and the sorceress.” The rain was running off their armor, pooling in the mud. They had horses. We didn’t. They were soldiers, and we had elderly. “If I go, you have to pay them.”
“Rowena, no!” Khal lunged forward, and they held him back, like I knew they would, like I knew Drazha would make sure they would. Whatever she might think of me, she would protect him from himself. I didn’t let myself look back, didn’t let myself see if his wound was bleeding again, if that leg slid in the mud.
My voice was a haunted echo. “The baron promised them healing potions. I know you carry them.”
The captain on his horse didn’t deny it.
“If you give them over, I’ll go with you. No fuss. No lighting anyone on fire.” There was shifting in their ranks, and I held my hands open at my sides, a promise or a threat. “You heard what I did at Rowton. That’s why he wants me. You want me to go quietly,” my voice cracked, “you pay them.”
A long moment, and he nodded, barked an order.
Vials from various packs and belts came together, eight, nine…there must have been more than twelve of them. My surrender was worth more than their two months wages had been. Rain trickled down my face, down the back of my neck, glued my dress to my shoulders. The soldier held them out, and I didn’t dare take them, because my hands would slip; I’d drop them, or I’d fall, and they’d see that I was coming apart, that they didn’t have to pay to haul me up with them and take me away. “Vrathgar,” I said. “Take them.”
He did.
My head was light, but I needed to stay awake longer, needed to look strong. I turned my head, not much, not enough to see him and lose my mettle, just enough to shout back, in the orc tongue, “Take care of him. His leg, he bleeds.”
He screamed, once more, as I strode across the grass, as the captain hauled me up on his horse. I kept my eyes averted, because I didn’t want to see him restrained, didn’t want to see him fight while he was bleeding, and for what? I didn’t want to see the betrayal or the sorrow or the anger in his eyes. But in the corner of my eye, I did see Drazha step forward, hear her shout, hoarse, over the space. “Hazanich varat!”
The shout was echoed, voices rising.
“What are they saying?” the captain muttered.
I shrugged. “They’re saying goodbye.”
SISTERS
It was a faster journey with horses and roads than with Khal's band overland and on foot. I moved in a haze. I drank water when someone told me to. The pain from unaccustomed riding on their saddest horse, the burning ache in my thighs and back, couldn't shake me free.
I didn’t pay attention to the soup of voices around me, hushed speculation or crass mutterings, but sometimes I reached into that well inside of me and felt, again, the empty bottom of it, the slow trickle of power, so much slower than before. Was it the land that sped or slowed this? Was it Khal, being near him, being safe?
Or was it just me, being like a broken cup that couldn’t hold water?
We reached Belnor Keep after some days, and it was with uncanny disinterest that I noted the looks and whispers from the guards at the gate, the hush of the washerwomen in the courtyard, the sideways glances of servants in the passageways, till I was in the hall again where Khal had promised me his troth by human rites. By our rites, so no one could argue and take meback. That time felt like years ago, but it was, what? Months? Weeks?
As opposed to his choice on my wedding day, the baron of Belnor deigned to attend.
“Daughter.” My father stood awkwardly, opened his arms. I didn’t move, didn’t run to him, just stood, trying not to sway on my feet. He lowered his arms, stiffly. “I was informed late of the agreement made with the orcs and what had occurred. Minister Narthalk has been chastised for keeping this from me.” He looked so uncomfortable, like he waited for me to thank him, to tell him this was fine, to cry, to break.
I gave him nothing.
What would be happening back at the encampment, near the stones? Would Khal’s grandmother be ladling out dinner? The rope burns on my wrists had healed by now. Would Khal’s cuts be healing, too? Would the traces of me be disappearing from his life?
No. We were burned into each other. We were changed past reckoning.
“Rowena!” A figure collided with me, blonde hair and a head on my shoulder. Thea clung to me, and I almost buckled. I think I almost felt something. “Thank the Goddess, you’re safe!”
