He can’t defeat me. I won’t allow him to win.
Maybe it was a sheer act of will—I wasn’t sure—but a cool, strange numbness seemed to pass over my wounds, dulling my pain. Enough to make it tolerable. I forced a slow breath, then wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and drew one knee up, bracing my arms against it.
The defiant act drew gasps. By all rights, I shouldn’t even attempt to be standing.
Seth towered over me, his face splattered with blood. “You’ll go to Emberstone in ten days, Lirien—injured or not. And when you do, you may want to come up with a better excuse for being in our forest than hunting vuks. Because we all know you’re lying. And you have no proof of your claims.”
“He may not, but I do.”
A wave of commotion started from the back of the gathering space, where a woman stood.
Dressed like the Viori women I’d fought during raids before, she wore leather from head to toe, her dark hair short and closely cropped, save for a longer section that framed her face. A row of silver hoops looped around her ears.
A foul stench filled the air. An ox and cart was behind her, several paces back. Piled atop the cart lay the carcass of the vuk, my sword still poking from it.
The reek of rot reached the council, sending several members reeling back, covering their noses with their sleeves. Others in the crowd mirrored them, muttering in disgust. The woman strode toward Seren.
“I would have been here sooner,” she said with a grim smile. “But the fucking cart broke down four times, and I had to fix it. Lost a whole day on that. And getting that thing onto the cart? Nearly impossible. But it was right where you said it would be. Are you hurt? What the hell happened?”
Seren struggled to her feet, pale-faced, and then she hugged her. “I’m so glad you’re here, Tara.”
Seth brushed past me, hurrying toward the vuk. He reached it, then grabbed the hilt of my sword, and yanked it free. The putrid flesh squelched as it sank back. Black blood dripped from the blade.
I staggered to my feet. “That’s my sword.”
“Not anymore.” Seth glared at Seren. “This council meeting is over. Collect your husband, Seren. You’re free to leave your tent, but we’ll be watching. Any attempt to escape will be met with swift justice.”
Husband.
What the fuck did that mean for me now?
The crowd began to disperse, but not before I caught several curious glances thrown our way. Seren remained rooted in place for another moment, hands trembling at her sides, then she hurried toward me.
I forced myself to remain upright, biting back a groan. My hands clenched into tight fists, but the numbing on my back continued to spread. Or maybe I was in shock. Either way, the blood loss was making me lightheaded.
“How are you standing?” she asked, a mix of fear and awe in her eyes.
Any attempt at wit died on my tongue. Truth was, I didn’t entirely know.
Something about this numbness felt like magic. An unfamiliar sorcery.
“You didn’t have to do this.” Her voice was a whisper but the tension in her tone was unmistakable.
“I did.” My reply was equally quiet, but final.
Any debts between us were paid. We might share a bond, but nothing more—and one way or another, I would escape from this prison.
With my fucking sword.
Chapter 9
Seren
I hadn’t expected Rykr to take my place at the flogging—or the blistering pain that had burst across my back with every lash he took.
As though I could feel his pain.
Mother’s spell had dulled the worst of it, but it hadn’t stopped the sensation entirely. But as I stared at him now, bloodied, raw welts crisscrossing his back, I hardly knew what to say to him.
