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I’d loved him. I still did, even if I was pissed enough to stab him for betraying me. Though, had he really? He was Her priest. He might have loved me as a friend, but he served the Goddess. He would always put Her first.

I wrenched my thoughts back to the boy beside me. “Nobody hurting those kids? That is a good dream. Would you like to make it come true?”

“I know better, Ratter of Rimholt.” He scoffed when I raised my eyebrows. “Yeah, I’ve heard the stories, too. You’re an assassin and a thief and a spy and who all knows what else. Serak told me about you.”

“You know Serak well?”

“He used to be the one to tell us stories, when he could. Before the other Alphas told on him.” He shuddered slightly, remembering what had happened then, I assumed.

“What do you know about me, then?”

“I know if… he… caught you and brought you here, there’s nothing I can do to get free.”

“What if I told you he didn’t catch me? What if I told you I came here on purpose, to get these littles away from here and to a place where they can sing?”

“I’d say you’re lying.” His sneer was a marked improvement on the despair.

“I can’t do it alone. I’ve got help on the outside, on the way. I’ll need more, though. Someone with, I don’t know… a sword?” His eyes grew wide. “If I teach you how to use that thing, if I help you get your little ones free, I know a group of honorable warriors who would take you in. But you have to make a vow never to harm an Omega in your life, like they all do. To protect them, no matter what it costs you.”

He didn’t hesitate. “I’ll do it. As long as you vow none of the children will get hurt.”

“I’ll heal them myself if they do. And slaughter anyone who comes for them.” I gestured for him to follow me to the place on the beach where the longhouse blocked the view from the guards. I unsheathed an imaginary sword and held it up, bowing to him. He lifted his sword and bowed back, almost trembling with excitement, or fear.

“First lesson of using a sword is this: don’t cut yourself. Leave that to the other guy.” He almost smiled. I grinned widely. “You’d be surprised how many idiots swing away and end up slicing their own leg or arm or even neck. You don’t need to show off with a sword. You just need to hold onto it. Here.” I reached over and adjusted his grip. “Feels better, yeah?” When he nodded, I went on. “Second lesson: don’t get cut by the other guy. That means stepping backward.”

He almost rolled his eyes, and I wanted to cheer. If he was able to snark at me, he had the spirit he’d need to help me rescue all of them.

I attacked him with my stick a few times, and he showed he already knew how to avoid a hit. “Good. Now for the third lesson. There are eight main angles of attack. First one is down and to the left, like this.”

I taught him the same movements Vilkurn had shown me years before. Tally picked them up as quickly as I had. Desperation was a good, if unkind teacher.

When he started to flag, I took off my cloak, handed him one corner, and we waded into the rising tide. “Good fishing right now,” I said, as a school of sardines practically flung themselves into the cloak as we swept it around them.

By the time the women were awake, coming out onto the beach to take care of their private business in the outhouse, we had a pile of shimmering minnows that would feed us all well.

“I have to get the children or they’ll pee the sheets,” Tally said. He stood far straighter than he had before, though when we saw someone step out onto the guard platform high above, we both stepped apart.

Only a few minutes later, Serak emerged from the jungle and approached the gate. Tally sucked in a breath. I went to greet him, wondering.

“Did you have some of the dried fruit?” he asked. He had bruises on his face, like he’d been in a fight.

I dodged the question. “Did you steal it from a giant or something?”

“Or something,” he said ruefully and held out a fist. “I had a feeling you’d give it away. But this is for you.”

I pushed my hand between two of the bars and tried not to react at the brush of his fingers on mine as he dropped something in my hand. It was a piece of waxed paper, wrapped around… “Honeycomb?” My stomach growled louder than my words.

“Do you remember—” he began, but I cut him off.

“The honeycomb cake at the ball in Turino.” I grinned. “The very first time I met you. You were a pimply boy.”

“You were a homicidal eleven-year-old. You glared at me like you wanted to stab me all evening. When we were at the cake table, and I picked up the biggest slice, you tried.”

I snorted. “If I’d really tried, you would’ve left the hall only able to count to nine.”

He nodded in agreement. “You ate the honeycomb off the top and gave the cake to your crew, your little sisters.” He curled his fingers around mine once more, before withdrawing. “I know you’ll give this away, too. But taste it first.”

I lifted the honeycomb to my mouth and stuck out my tongue, licking just the edge. Loving the way his eyes darkened and trying not to show it.