Lillian stood in their midst, chewing on her bottom lip, worrying her hands before her as she glanced between me—kneeling, my head lowered in what I hoped looked like weak submission—and the guards.
What was she doing here?
Malla the Beginner, she looked fine tonight! I told myself ‘twas not the time to notice such things, but I couldn’t help it. Her gown was a bright blue, a red shawl tied around her shoulders to keep her warm, and some kind of white cloth covering her hair, framing her face.
Tonight, she looked like a lady rather than a servant.
“Come on, lads,” one of the older guards said. “Let’s get this arsehole unchained and upstairs so the lord can show him off to his guest.”
The other men shifted their weight as if they didn’t want to get too close, and one of them called out, “Why does he think Battleborn even wants the poor bastard? They’re both orcs, aye?”
Battleborn?
I tried not to let my reaction to the name show, but ‘twas difficult. I strained my senses to pick up any more hints.
“Who knows when it comes to these beasts, eh?” the first guard replied. “Lord Tarbert says Battleborn is enemies with everyone except Bladesedge, so he wants to ally with them too. They’re fierce sea raiders, you know.”
“Aye,” another voice drawled, “and the Stormseeker must have a score to settle with our prisoner.”
Stormseeker.
Well…fook.
Vrogul Stormseeker was the chief of the Islay Battleborn sept, a name mothers whispered to scare their children into doing their chores. His men were feared up and down the west coast, even in the human’s world.
I hadn’t realized he wanted me dead, or even had reason to want to harm my clan…but I couldn’t allow it.
“Hop to it, lads,” the older man grunted again, and I didn’t have to look up to know he gestured toward me. “Unchain him.”
“Youunchain him,” one muttered, shuffling toward me. “He’s dangerous.”
“Aye, ‘tis whyyou’redoing it. You two help.”
I saw their boots inching toward me and hid my smirk. They had no reason to think I was any stronger than I’d been a few days ago, and still they feared me. I heard the jangle of keys, then one of them leaned over me to reach for the loop over my head where the chains were attached.
This would be the moment to surge upward, to rip the chains from their hold, to use them as a weapon against them. Lillian was here—I could grab her andrun.
But there were six of them and they gripped their swords tightly, expecting something like this from me. And no matter my recent improvements, my body was still fighting months’ worth of deprivation. ‘Twas better for me to pretend weakness.
Or, I learned when my arms were finally allowed to fall to my sides, notpretend. I couldn’t hide my groan of relief as the chains were unhooked from the wall and I could finally twist my shoulders in another direction. Fook, it had only been a sennight in this position, and I felt as stiff as a corpse.
“Careful!” cautioned the older guard, my only warning before I felt two sets of hands on my arms, preparing to lift me.
And then another, softer voice.
“Wait!” Lillian darted forward, hovering anxiously by as the guards lifted me. “He’s been chained for days, he cannot stand.”
Thanking her for the unintentional help with my ruse, I made a show of stumbling, falling back against the stone, wrapping my arms around my torso—grateful for the burn in my shoulders as I flexed. My chin dropped to my chest.
“Careful,” Lillian whispered. I could scent her worry, and I dared to hope she was worried for me. “Be gentle.”
“Gentle, milady?” one of the guards snorted. “He’s a murderous beast.”
A pause, during which I allowed my gaze to rest on the hem of her skirts.
“Mayhap,” she finally said, “but my father wants him to stand in the Great Hall, even if he has to be carried there.”
The sudden thought of having to becarriedmade me straighten slightly. Even that movement had the guards stepping back in alarm, their blades rising.
