Page 47

“Did you hear that?” Eavus cursed himself for saying something. Taerus listened, too. “I wonder if I…should check on my prisoner.” Another rippling breeze blocked the moon. Eavus took a few steps back, but Taerus stayed with him.

“You either tied her tight or you didn’t, boy.” Taerus narrowed his eyes. “Do we have a deal or not?”

A whistle sang past Eavus’ ear as something sailed by, and then Taerus howled. The sword was sticking out of Taerus’ leg. Eavus lunged for it, but Taerus lashed out with the ax, launching the spear in his other hand towards the crashing noise in the forest.

Revni appeared at a crouching run. Taerus swung wildly toward Eavus again, giving Revni the chance to yank the sword out. The ax wasn’t Taerus’ weapon, as the sword wasn’t hers, but it crashed against the steel with such strength that Revni staggered. Limping and cursing, Taerus circled. It was almost impossible to see in this damned blackness, these huge trees. Eavus had only his eating knife, a blade smaller than his thumb, but he held it ready, looking for an opening. They were flashes of silhouette, teeth and eyes and metal catching what little light there was before flitting away. Taerus lunged, and Revni feinted. Then Revni stepped in, drove her sword deep up under his ribs and back out so quickly that Eavus barely saw it happen, except that the tip of the sword tasted the sky from behind Taerus’ shoulder, like a fish sampling air, before it came back down.

Taerus crumpled, moaning and spurting blood, and Eavus moved forward—but Revni spun on him, and he froze, hands lifted. She was panting, blood spattering her face. Her eyes met Eavus’ with a hardness that made his stomach flip. He went instantly cold, every hair he had standing on end.

“Sa.” The Isfolj word slipped out of him on a heavy breath.

Revni lowered the sword. “Sa.” She snapped the blood off and flipped the handle. There was a tingling in his hands, like he’d been in the fight himself.

Giving him back his weapon.

Revni saw his surprise, and her eyes flashed with a different anger.

“Better to fight with teeth and claws,” she flung at him angrily, like he should know what that meant. He felt like he was surrounded by moths, a flapping of wings in his ears he couldn’t brush away.

“Wait,” he said.

The fight had taken them away from the girl. For a horrified moment, Eavus thought they wouldn’t be able to find her. Taerus’ wet, rattled breathing pinched the nerves at the back of Eavus’ neck. Revni put up a hand and they both froze, listening. There was a scrabbling of leaves, some last protest, before Taerus went blissfully silent. Eavus strained his ears. There. A quiet sigh, in and out.

He and Revni crept towards the hush of breath, trying not to lose it. The girl scrabbled back at their approach, clawing at the tree as if she could dig a hole in it to hide in. Eavus paused, not wanting to make it worse, but he exhaled relief that she still had life in her enough to fight. Revni faltered, and then stepped gently. She reminded Eavus of a horsemaster approaching a foal, her whispers rising and falling like a melody among the leaves. Eavus wasn’t even sure Revni was speaking a language, but the noises soothed the girl. Or maybe intrigued her. Revni bent and worked at the knot, and the girl stilled to let her.

What were they supposed to do with her? They didn’t have time to help her, but she was bruised and starving. And Taerus— Eavus didn’t want to waste the time it would take to burn the body or bury it. Didn’t want to touch him, honestly. Throwing him in the river would only poison the water downstream.

For the first time, Eavus wondered what had happened to the bodies of Revni’s parents. They had likely been left in the road. His people had done that—killed her family. The fact that her people had started it, that they would have killed him and his brothers if they’d been able, didn’t seem to matter as much. Was it Costae that killed her mother? Maener that killed her father? He wouldn’t know. His brothers-in-arms reached out with swords from behind the protection of their shields, and people died.

Revni helped the girl to standing and Eavus suddenly remembered the waterskin at his hip. Fumbling, he untied it and offered. The girl drank it all. She handed it back with shaking hands. Her lips left blood on the spout.

The girl spoke. Revni cocked her head, trying to understand. It sounded vaguely of Catavarrus, and Eavus tried the few words he knew, but the girl only shook her head in response. Revni gestured for her to come with them, but the girl stared back, a statue in a building long deserted.

“She needs food. And the fire.” Revni sounded frustrated.

“Come,” Eavus said in Aleterian, gesturing. The girl’s eyes widened at the word, and then, like a bolt released from a bow, she shot into the forest faster than either of them could react.

Revni shouted after her, but the girl was gone.

“Leave her be,” Eavus said. “She’ll find her way home.”

Revni’s protest died on her lips. She unlooped the rope from the trunk. “At least now we have good rope. The other was frayed.”

There was something equally comforting and chilling in Revni’s cold practicality.

“What’s that language you keep speaking? Some of them know it and some of them don’t.”

Revni hesitated. “It’s Brigfaen,” she finally said. “The language of chiefs.”

Eavus raised his eyebrows. “Are you the daughter of a chief?”

Revni raised her chin. “I am Revni Hyldyttr. My grandfather was Gon of the Golden Scar.”

“Is that a yes or no?”

“It is close enough.” She sounded miffed.

Eavus hated the flare of hope that rose in his chest. He didn’t know any of those Isfolj names, but if she was the daughter of someone famous, she’d likely be worth a lot more. He had started to doubt bringing her with him, but now he was glad.