I wasn’t totally out of it, though, and when the familiar sound of branches snapping reached my ears, I pressed my sword and my other hand into the ground, pushing myself to stand. A hooded shadow came out from behind one of the trees, and I pounced, landing atop them, using my knees to hold down their arms and angling my shaking sword to their neck.
“Are there more of you?” I hissed as I used my other hand to pull off the hood.
I almost recoiled at my reflection in the girl’s green eyes. Blood coated my teeth, and my war paint was smudged, tracking down my cheeks and along my neck. My hair was full of thorny twigs, and there was an untamed sheen to my eyes when they narrowed on her.
“I—” She swallowed when the edge of my sword pricked her neck. “I… don’t…” She said something in a language I didn’t know, urgent words that were harsh to my ears but I guessed were really a plea, given the terrified look gripping her features.
“I don’t understand,” I gritted. “Are there more of you?”
I pointed to her and the woods around us, which were too quiet—too calm—after the battlefield I’d just left behind. When she didn’t respond, I did it again, leaning into my blade, the steel close to breaking her skin but not doing it. Yet.
Her eyes went between mine before she shook her head.
I frowned as I looked back at her. She looked familiar. Beautiful raven hair, big green eyes that moved between me and the blade and back again. She wasn’t from home. And I didn’t think I’d seen her at the Hird.
“Do I know you?” I asked.
She only blinked, her body trembling beneath me. I softened the pressure of the blade.
“Do I?” I asked.
The girl took a shaking breath as she shook her head again. “My… my… s-s?—”
I felt Darcke again, his urgency in trying to find me, and I made my thumping heart calm to show him I was all right, although he could feel every cut and bruise making me shift uncomfortably as I kept my hold on the girl.
“Your what?” I asked. “Tell me or I will slit your throat right now.”
“My s-s-s—” Her rib cage rose and fell with laborious gasps.
Steps echoed around us, and I leaned my head down an inch from hers. “Tell. Me.”
“My s-s-sister,” she got out. Her accent was thick, the word cut off as if it got stuck in her throat. While it was nowhere near Darcke’s smooth, melodic accent and she looked nothing like him, something tugged at me.
“Your sister?” I ducked when shadows flickered over us. A group of hooded people sprinted by, their strange language filling the warm air. “What about her?”
She jerked her head forward as if gesturing toward me, and the lines on my forehead deepened until I stared down at my chest, where my clothing was barely holding on, shielding me as much as the dress Ottoh tricked me into.
My eyes widened. The dress. The thrall girl who’d pitied me that day.
“Your sister works at the Hird.” I kept my voice lower than a whisper, almost a breath, as another group passed.
A low, strangled laugh left the girl. “No w-w-work. F-forced.”
I twisted my lips. Thralls were supposed to come freely to Skagerik.
Another deep pull tore at my chest as understanding spread within me.
Servants hear everything.So did thralls.
The spy. It was the thrall girl.
“Yes,” I said. “Is that why you’re attacking us? Because of her?”
I removed one of my knees, and with the hand I released, the girl made a gesture like she didn’t understand.
I pointed to the woods, then slid my finger over my throat. “Is that why you’re coming for us?”
She shook her head.
