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“You come from our village,” Brun says. “Solaya.”
“I was born in Solaya,” she hisses. “I freed myself from your hellhole.”
What stories has she been told? But then Latsil speaks. “Why is your hair so dark?”
She pauses, but the sun is not yet bright enough to show that his hair color matches hers. Or should. But she sits near the fire and the flame illuminates her. All she’s probably thinking is that he’s seen her before—maybe from the village she’s long since forgotten.
“I’m in penance for killing our king. I wear his marks now—and his clothing for the three-moon mourning period.”
Though she may mean to make us aware she’s not to be trifled with, she reveals something else. The brutes she’s with—the males who kidnapped her—have her purposely disguised. They’ve realized who she is then, and still dare to keep her. They just changed their sentence from death to a painful death.
“You don’t remember Solaya?” I ask.
She falters. “Nay. Took a fall from a horse. Woke a bit crazed and that was when I killed our king.”
“We can take you back,” Brun offers. “You can see the village for yourself. Mayhap it will trigger your memories.”
“Especially those of your mum,” Latsil says softly.
“Lies,” she grits. “My mother was killed for not bearing more horrors like me!”
“Nay. Your mother is alive and well. And has born more brats, though a bit younger than you. Boys. You have two brothers. Wee ones, much younger.”
I see she’s tempted to believe by the grip of her hand in my hair but she’s a smart girl. Always has been.
“Yer mother’s entire world was filled by ye,” Latsil says, emotion clogging his voice, making his accent more pronounced. “And when ye begged her for brothers, she agreed despite her life being full. Even allowed ye to name the boy-brats.”
She’s silent for a minute, then chooses to ignore his heartfelt pleas.
“I hold your son, your prince, prisoner. If you wish to keep him alive, you will head to your village yourself. If I choose to stop by with him, you will allow me safe passage,” she bluffs.
My father looks at me and I slowly blink, giving him a signal to do as she says. I will remain her prisoner—until I take her as mine.
“We will,” he says. “You have our word on safe passage, m’kirn. Your life story is not what it seems and we can prove that to you. But please... grant us a boon for keeping my son in your care. Allow us to know where your own clan has gone.”
She may not care for her males but she is loyal. “They have gone to a safe haven.” Then, in a game only she can guess at, Shalia says, “Collins.”
A village under the Southpeak jurisdiction.
Latsil narrows his eyes. “There is no safe haven for your males.”
Latsil will tear them from limb to limb.
My father cuts in to calm him. “No town will house the traitors. They will be dragged to Solaya for capture by their own families.”
Her hand grips tighter in my hair, the blade held firmer. “We will see about that, Prince Brun. If your clan rides directly home and Southpeaks bring them to Solaya, we will have proof. If not, I have your orc.”
“Aye, but you will need to ride with us back to Solaya or you may always wonder if we dragged your males in ourselves.”
“Nine males to one female? Do I look that stupid, prince?” she asks mockingly. “Nay. You all leave now. I will hold your son, but do not worry. I will keep him safe,” she jeers, bringing the blade up to her tongue and licking my blood.
There is the faintest glow of the rising sun in the west, the beginning wake of the planet.
“We must trust each other then,” my father says. “Jogug, we will await your arrival. You will be treated with respect, as a princess. A queen. We will reunite you with your mother, your brothers... your father.”
Again, her hand tightens in my hair. But for some reason, she suspects that my father lies.
“And you will see who lies.”
