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He stopped and turned. Her expression was hooded by the dark.
“I don’t— Maybe. Whipping with a lash. I’m hoping not.”
He knew she saw him twist the ring on his finger. Eavus felt like he was twisting something deep in his belly at the same time. He should give it back—but why? She wasn’t going to need it.
“Should you take the blanket?” she asked. “So they don’t see your tattoo?”
Eavus swallowed. All the energy went out of him. He squatted next to her on the hard stone floor. “Keep it.”
Confusion suddenly roiled through him. She’d brought her fingers to his cheek. Their touch was soft, but they traced fire across his smooth jaw. “They even tell you what to do with your face.”
He seized her wrist, wanting to pull her away, but once he had hold he couldn’t seem to move. “You can’t come with me.”
“What?”
“You can’t come into Lordinius. You stay here. In the morning, I’ll go, and you—you stay here until I go, and then you leave. You run.”
Revni furrowed her brow, about to speak, and then her eyes widened with a sudden intake of breath that made every hair on Eavus’ neck stand on end.
“Well, well, well,” the voice said in Aleterian. “Looks like we found a couple of trespassers.”
TWENTY-TWO
“You’re on Aleterian property,” the man drawled. “Off limits to slaves and whores.”
Eavus leapt to his feet and spun, only to see familiar caterpillar eyebrows, Sevenius’ brown eyes shifting to surprised delight underneath.
“Holy shit! Marceas.”
“Sev,” Eavus breathed. They hesitated only a moment before clasping each other in a back-thumping hug.
“Holy shit,” Sev repeated. “You’re alive. Holy shit.”
“I can see your vocabulary’s improved."
“Put down the weapon, conri!” Sev’s companion barked, brandishing his spear towards Eavus’ throat. Sev slapped the shaft away.
“Put down the weapon,” he mocked. “It’s attached to his belt. He’s not threatening you with it. He doesn’t even know how to use it. I’ve seen him fight. He doesn’t.” He said the last companionably to Revni, then suddenly took her in. He furrowed his brow so deeply the caterpillars kissed.
“He has a sword,” the companion complained.
“It’s Costae’s sword,” Sev tossed off without turning, “but I think you’d better explain why you’re half-dressed with a damp native, sneaking around the city walls with it, weeks after we all hoped you were dead.”
“Hoped?” The word burned in Eavus’ throat.
Sev finally tore his eyes from Revni to look at Eavus. “We all told them: Marceas. Wouldn’t. Run.”
“And I didn’t.”
The men were clearly soldiers, and knew Eavus, but beyond that Revni was left in the dark. She hated that young, useless feeling—like they were the grown-ups in the room. Her clammy clothes didn’t help. She held as still as possible, only scootching deeper into the shadows when the men stepped inside. Aleterian was still gibberish, too fast. A flicker of amusement distracted her. Eyebrows used his hands when he talked and Eavus matched him, big circles and pinching the air. She focused on those gestures, the way the thin one kept glancing at her, desperately trying to figure out what her next move should be. Eavus’ ears and neck went red, and she didn’t know what that meant, except that Eyebrows looked at her and laughed and she seemed to understand the gist. He clapped a hand at her, but she didn’t move. She didn’t like the tension in Eavus’ stance. Skinny gestured his spear towards her, and Eyebrows argued.
“Stand up.”
Revni didn’t realize the voice was Eavus’ at first. It was a low, cautious growl of Gerstunt. Slowly, she obeyed, keeping her eyes on the other two men.
She caught the word Isfolj. The same in any language, she supposed. Was Eavus negotiating her surrender? Negotiating for himself? The three of them were blocking the exit.
He still had her ring.
