‘And your face,’ Torgrin said, sitting forward, bringing his own face close to my almost-healed cheek.
I shrugged and leaned away from his attentive eyes.
‘Like I said, it wasn’t that bad.’I finally stopped eating.
Now that my stomach was full, my breeches felt too tight, so I loosened the cord at my waist a little.My hands froze when I realisedTorgrin and Atlas were staring.I thought I heard Atlas mutter something about finding someone to wearhisbreeches tonight, but it was such an odd comment I must have heard wrong.
Tomas soon returned and took me to the stables, as promised.I was pleased to see Nightmare well watered and fed.She had her own stall that was clean and filled with fresh hay.
Tomas was called away, and I was left to my own devices.After some time brushing and talking with Nightmare, I went in search of the horse master to thank him for looking after her so well.
I soon found a man in a room full of saddles, brid les and lengths of rope.
‘Hello there,’ I called out, announcing my presence.
The man turned, and my heart stopped.I felt a lump form in the back of my throat.
One side of the man’s head was partially caved in, and he was missing an eye, but I recognised that face and blond hair.He was the young soldier who had pulled the sword from my mother’s dead body and stood between me and her killer.
CHAPTER 10
Yesterday, I had witnessed one man lose an arm and another his head, and almost lost my own life – all without shedding a single tear.
Yet here I was, falling apart in front of this confused man.
I tried wiping the silent tears from my cheeks before he noticed, but they kept coming.
He walked over, patted my shoulder, then guided me to a stool and motioned for me to sit down.He pulled a small, folded cloth from his leather vest and handed it to me.I thanked him and pressed it hard to my eyes.
Stop crying, you fool.The poor man will think you’re unhinged.
When I had set out from Red River to find my mother’s killer, I had not imagined I might encounter the others who had been there.Though I had dreams of that night often and saw all their faces over and over in my mind, I had never given a single thought about what had happened to Torgrin, Atlas or this man now staring at me with concern.They had all put themselves between me and a brutal murderer.
The blond man picked up a thin piece of slate resting against a coil of rope.He removed something from his vest and began to write.
The handwriting was childlike but clear to read:Webber.He pointed at the word on the slate and then at his chest.
‘Hello, Webber,’ I said, my sadness deepening.
If I told him who I was, would he resent me?He should, I thought harshly.
‘I’m Caris.’
He used his sleeve to wipe the slate clean, then wrote again.Sad?He pointed at me.
‘I think I’m a bad person and I wish I weren’t,’ I said bitterly, looking down at the gloves I wore to hide the wounds that would never truly heal on the inside.
He shook his head and wrote again.Meg says good.He pointed at me.Meg says brave and beautiful!
I shook my head, his face blurring before I blinked away the gathering tears.
Meg always right about people.His one remaining eye shone.
At that moment, Tomas returned to take me back to the fortress.
‘Thank you for taking such good care of Nightmare for me,’ I said, standing up.
Webber smiled and gave me a little bow.I wished I could undo the hurt I’d caused.
