The warriors around him all seemed on edge, a wary eye on their surroundings even as they saw to themselves and their horses.
Amari came back, wrapping her cloak close. “All well?” she asked. Her eyes widened as she looked toward the front of the procession.
There was another carriage there, with two people emerging.
Following her gaze, Orval’s jaw dropped. “Rosalind? Captain Roth?”
“Privy’s there,” Ussin pointed. “Stay alert,” he roared and moved off, clearly wanting to avoid any talk. Roth helped Rosalind walk toward them.
“Lord High Baron,” Rosalind said in greeting. She looked exhausted and cold.
“I rather think that we can skip the formalities,” Orval said dryly, “given the circumstances.”
“Aye.” Roth’s eyes flicked to the guards nearby.
“Come,” Amari said to Rosalind, gently grasping the older woman’s arm. The two of them walked off together.
“There’s something you need to see, in our carriage,” Roth said.
“Not ‘til Amari returns,” Orval said. “Our babes sleep within.”
“Agreed,” Roth pressed his hands into his armpits.
Orval leaned against the carriage, the cold starting to bite through his cloak. He took his turn at the privy once the women were done. When he returned, limping, Rosalind and Roth had retreated to stand by the lead carriage. They were looking at him with grim expressions.
“Lara and Dalan are still sleeping, praise be,” Amari said. “But you need to go to Rosalind and Roth.”
Orval limped over, careful to watch his footing in the snow. Roth opened the door and Orval looked in.
“Aunt Xydell?” He could hardly have been more surprised.
She was stretched out on a bench and covered by a heavy blanket. Orval struggled into the carriage and put his hand to her cold, pale face. “Is she dead?”
Rosalind had climbed in behind him. “A near thing,” she whispered. “She fought them, you see, and they drugged her. Letheon, I suspect. Who knows when she will wake—”
“Or if,” Orval growled.
“Hey there, what ya be doing?” came a cry.
Roth turned and Orval lunged for the door, fearing the worst. But Amari was also looking back at the wagons.
Two guards were tussling with a lad, yanking him from between some of the crates. They backed off fast when the boy drew knives and slashed at them.
“Yfin?” Roth roared and charged forward, which was when Orval realized that the man had no sword.
Ussin shouted an order and the guards pulled farther back.
Roth fell to his knees before the boy, who was blue and shaking with the cold. “Lord of the Sun, lad, what are you doing here?” He asked as he took the blades from the child’s hands.
“Cap’n, I saw them grab ya and take ya,” the boy gestured at Ussin. “An’ the old lady bid me follow ya, said there’s honor in your sword. So here I be.”
Roth shook his head. “Lad, this isn’t a good place for you. You—”
“He’s here, he stays,” Ussin barked, holding his hand out for the knives. “He’d not have a warm welcome if I took him back.”
Roth handed the weapons to him and got to his feet, swinging his own cloak over the lad.
Ussin looked at the sky. “We needs get hot kavage in the men and finish up here quick like.”
