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A little boy of about two runs across the courtyard away from his mother, who has a baby in her arms and another child clinging to her skirt. The toddler is oblivious to a donkey and cart being led across the flagstones.
“Poul, no—!” the mother calls.
I scoop the little boy up in my arms and stand back to allow the donkey and cart to pass, and then take him over to his mother. The little boy, frustrated in his ambitions to reach the other side of the courtyard, starts to scream.
The woman seems close to bursting into tears as the baby starts to cry in her arms. “Thank you for your kindness. I’m about at my wit’s end with these three. Their father has gone to see about a cart for us, but I don’t have much hope.”
I sit down beside her on a log with the boy in my arms and fashion a straw dolly with some wisps of hay that are on the ground. Poul’s cries quieten as he watches me work, and he grabs at bits of hay. “He’s a beautiful little boy. I’m Isavelle, by the way. Isavelle Harrow of Amriste. Over by Gunster, in the west,” I add when the woman gives me a blank look. No one’s ever heard of Amriste.
“Ah, the west. Never been there myself. Aster Yackley of Nobble. I thought we had a long walk home, but if you’re past Gunster, then I hope you have a pair of sturdy shoes.”
We both look at my bare and blistered feet. “I won’t be setting off yet. I’m looking for people from over my way who might be able to tell me about my family. I haven’t seen them in over a year, and I’ve just discovered my village was abandoned.”
“Like every village near and far. Curse those dragons,” she mutters and glares at a nearby soldier.
“Did the invaders kill people in your village?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “No one was hurt, but they set fire to the church, and we weren’t waiting around to see what would be next. We thought we’d be safe in Lenhale, but then all the Brethren Guard deserted the place and the invaders came here as well.” She glances nervously around and then whispers, “What strange people they are. Some of them have purple eyes. Golden eyes, even. They’ve said we can return to our village tomorrow. Do you think we can believe them?”
I bounce Poul on my knee and waggle the dolly before his eyes so he takes it from me. “I don’t know, but if that’s what they’ve promised you, we’ll find out in the morning if the invaders will honor their word.”
The woman nods and swallows, placing the baby in a wicker bassinet. “That we will. I’ll be praying that it will be so.”
I wince as I hear the wordpray. No one was very fond of the Brethren, but people still take their praying seriously. I gave up that anyone was listening long ago. If someone was listening to me, then they weren’t on my side.
My neck prickles, and I see something out of the corner of my eye. Someone is making their way toward me across the courtyard.
Someone large and dressed in black and crimson.
Aster sucks in a breath. “It’s that invader who told us we could leave tomorrow. He’s absolutely terrif— Oh, God’s balls, he’s coming this way.”
My arms tighten reflexively around Poul as Zabriel marches over and stops right in front of me. My eyes travel slowly up his muddy leather boots, black breeches and doublet, and that long cloak lined with crimson.
Zabriel watches me intently, looking from my face to the toddler in my arms and back again, a smile turning up the corner of his lips. “How wonderful to see you up and about so soon. Did you sleep well,sha’len?”
Aster’s mouth falls open, and I feel my face burn. The two of us were having a conversation, villager to villager, and now I look like some kind of traitor. A traitor who’s been sleeping in an invader’s bed.
I swallow hard and pass the boy back to his mother. “This soldier saved my life the other day, and I haven’t been able to shake him off since. Good luck with your journey tomorrow. I hope you make it safely home.” I want to add,I didn’t sleep in his bed, but I don’t know how without sounding like I’m protesting too much.
Aster gives me a doubtful look. There’s chilliness in her expression, and she doesn’t say goodbye as I stand up. I should have been honest with her instead of pretending I was another refugee just like her. I’m not like her. I slept the day away in a soft, warm bed, and a soldier personally brought me food and clothes.
I move past Zabriel and hurry away, but he follows me and catches my hand, pulling me around to face him. “Something’s wrong. What has upset you?”
Dozens of pairs of eyes have fastened on this huge invader soldier holding on to my hand.
“Nothing. Don’t.” I try to pull my hand back from his but he won’t let go.
“Tell me,” he growls.
“I feel like a traitor because you’re giving me special treatment. Please, can you just leave me be while I wait for news of my family? No one here will trust me if they think I’m on your side and not theirs.”
Both his eyebrows rise. “We’re all on the same side. I explained that to you last night.”
“These people don’t believe that. You invaded ondragons.”
Slowly, Zabriel lets go of my hand. I brace for him to order me back to my room. To tell me I should be on his side, not theirs, and spout that nonsense about us being mates and destined for each other. He gazes around the courtyard at the broken-down, desperate, and hungry people who were driven from their homes by him and the other dragonriders.
“Have you found anyone from your village? Seen anyone you know?”
