The rational part of her mind reminded her that the nÿgens probably would have eaten her then, or that if Callista had lost, Xercae would have made short work of her next. She clung to that part and made a game of clenching her jaw as her teeth chattered, terrified the sound would summon every beast in this hideous forest.
A twig snapped. She told herself it was just her foot on the forest floor.
Another.
It had come from behind her.
She spun, for all the good it did when she could see nothing. She squinted, straining to no avail.
The forest was quiet.
Then another twig snapped.
She ran.
She made it less than ten steps before her foot struck something hard, and she went sprawling. She scrambled to her knees and crawled, palms stinging from fresh cuts.
A sob escaped her lips. She hiccupped, then clamped a hand over her mouth. As quietly as possible, she curled up in an alcove of roots and pulled her knees to her chest.
A rustle sounded beside her. Breath—not her own—hovered near her ear, and a warm hand slid up her arm.
She screamed.
The hand clamped onto her shoulder. Her body reacted, and she flailed, but it held fast. Her fist connected with skin, and she drove her nails into flesh.
There was a sharp gasp, then something hard struck her on the back of the head. And the world went dark.
Voices. Laughter. The crackle of fire. Sounds trickled into Thia’s ears as she came to. She opened her eyes, but the world remained black, some scratchy material covering her face.
Her body was moving up and down, draped over something hard. She forced herself to stay still as she let her mind put the pieces together: she was blindfolded, and someone was carrying her, likely over their shoulder by the feel of a hand on her back and the hard wedge under her stomach.
She continued to breathe evenly, so her attacker wouldn’t know she was awake. Her bones ached with fatigue, her muscles feeling both taut and limp. An adrenaline crash, she suspected. After running for her life. Even if she forced them to drop her, she’d never get away in this state.
Her captor was speaking. It was a male voice, surprisingly high considering the broad feel of him, but steady. “—at the edge,” he was saying. “Just short of nÿgen territory. She attacked me.”
Another deep voice answered, nearly lost in the crackle of a fire and the gentle murmuring of what could have been a dozen others. “Poor thing. Must’ve been terrified. Look at her, covered in blood like that.”
“Not hers.”
“Are you sure?” She felt someone sniff beside her ear, the force of their breath moving the baby hairs at her temple. Then heat flared, the snap of sparks close to her face. A torch maybe? “You’re right. Witch, by the reek of it.”
“You think she killed it?” Her captor’s voice was skeptical, but he paused. “Cathor did say Asha Würmheart is dead.”
The other man was silent for a moment. “I doubt it. Perhaps the nÿgens caught her alongside the witch. It’s possible she escaped during the feeding frenzy.”
Her captor shifted his grip on her back. “We won’t know until she wakes.”
“In the meantime, Sorscha has given use of her cabin. Take the girl there.”
Sounds faded to silence, except for the gentle pad of her captor’s footsteps and the creak of door before she was deposited gently onto a bed. Coarse fingers scraped her cheek as her blindfold was carefully removed.
She waited a moment, uncertain. If they’d wanted to harm her, they could have done it already. And they certainly wouldn’t have needed to bring her somewhere comfortable.
She blinked slowly, pretending to wake. Candlelight greeted her, along with rough walls of wood and straw. There was little furniture, save for a table, chair, and the bed she was in. A doorway led to another room across from hers.
“You’re awake.” Her captor—if he was that she was no longer certain—was of medium height, with a boyish face that was at odds with his strong build. A tangle of blond, straw-like hair stood straight up on his head, and his white skin was freckled, his eyes a soft hazel. There was also a large red line across one of his cheeks, as if something had clawed him.
Or someone.She attacked me.
