“It was me, Officer Yara,” Sev said loudly, stepping forward. “I took both the llama and the bondservant with me,” he explained, putting extra emphasis on the proper term for Kade’s position. Though Sev didn’t dare glance in his direction, he thought he sensed Kade’s reaction to his words. Soldiers never stood up for bondservants.
Officer Yara, too, seemed surprised by them, raising her eyebrows and causing her burn scars to stretch and turn white against her brown skin. “And who gave you permission to abandon your post, soldier?” She jerked her chin at Kade and the llama. “They are the property of Rolan, governor of Ferro, and by proxy, Captain Belden. They are not yours to do with what you wish.”
Property. Sev took a deep breath, composing himself. Lowering his voice to the slow, dim register the others were used to, he answered.
“The llama was limping, Officer Yara. The bondservant reckoned he had a muscle cramp and needed a quick rubdown, so we stepped aside to treat the animal. We didn’t want to delay the convoy.”
“Is this the lame beast?” Captain Belden asked, cutting in before Officer Yara could respond. He had been standing just behind them, consulting a map that his attendant held out for him. Waving the map impatiently aside, he stepped forward.
The captain was a weasel of a man with a pale, pointed face and thinning straw-like hair. He was battle-hardened, though, and had a reputation for cruelty, despite his taste for fine wine and embroidered silk.
“Yes, Captain. He’s walking fine now, sir, and—”
“Stand aside,” he commanded, and with a quiet snick and a flash of steel, he drew his dagger. The elegant weapon put Sev’s stolen dagger to shame, with its embossed leather grip and swirling, knotted embellishments, not to mention the gleaming Ferronese steel blade. He snatched the llama’s leads from Kade, who resisted for a breath before releasing them. Without a moment’s thought or hesitation, Captain Belden drew the knife across the animal’s throat.
Sev barely had time to register what was happening before the llama let out a strangled snort of pain, then collapsed, a shower of blood spattering across the ground as the warm flicker of his life was snuffed out.
Next to him, Kade staggered, and Sev fought to hide his own visceral reaction. Only an animage would truly feel the animal’s death the way Kade did, and Sev couldn’t give himself away—not while the captain stood there, bloody blade in hand.
There were plenty of misconceptions about animages in the empire. Many thought they were half-animal, wild and incapable of proper human emotion and intelligence. Others saw them as weak and overly sensitive, weeping at the death of every rat and cockroach and wanting to make even the lowliest creatures their pets and playmates.
Sev supposed that last part was true. On the farm, he’d had all manner of animal companions, but that didn’t mean he was incapable of understanding that some animals had to be killed so that he could eat, that some beasts plowed fields and pulled carts, that they worked just the same as humans did.
Regardless, one truth universally acknowledged was that animages could feel the emotions of the animals around them. They felt their pain and their panic, sometimes connecting with them more deeply than they did with humans. It made them vulnerable, and Captain Belden had just exploited that fact.
As Kade and Sev stared down at the dead animal, Belden carefully cleaned his blade with a handkerchief his attendant gave him, the fine fabric stitched with his golden monogram. He did it slowly, almost reverently, and the care was in stark contrast to his rash, thoughtless treatment of the llama.
“You will now report to Officer Lyle and assist our hunting unit,” he said to Kade, who visibly forced himself to straighten and face the man. “If you are caught anywhere near the pack animals, you will face strict discipline. Do you understand me, mageslave?”
Kade’s nostrils flared, and his jaw clenched as he nodded. “Yes, sir,” he grit out.
“We cannot afford to be delayed,” Belden continued idly, examining the knife closely before removing one last speck of blood. “By anything.”
He stared fixedly at Kade when he spoke the last two words. Sev understood the threat plainly. This time it was the llama; next time it will be you. Belden returned his weapon to its sheath and the blood-soaked rag to the attendant, then strode back to the front of the convoy.
“I’ll deal with you later, soldier,” Officer Yara said, following the captain up the line.
Sev looked at Kade, expecting to see anger or disappointment on his face. The hunting party was the worst duty available to an animage, who had to use their magic to lure in unsuspecting animals to be slaughtered. When Kade met his eye, however, he didn’t look upset—he looked panicked, his gaze darting around the clearing, face leeched of color. That’s when realization dawned on Sev for the first time.
Trix’s mission.
He had no idea what Kade’s task was—or for that matter, what his own was—but Kade had obviously been assigned to the pack animals for a reason.
And Sev had just screwed everything up.
Two soldiers dragged the llama carcass off to the side of the path, out of the way, while a handful of bondservants reclaimed the supplies that were strapped to its back. Objects, not life, were valuable here, and Sev was struck by the senselessness of it all. The creature had died in vain, for his selfish decisions, and worse, he’d somehow managed to drag Kade and Trix into it.
As the line started moving, Sev saw the old woman up ahead, staring at him.
He looked away.
Long have the Ashfires bled— and burned—for our right to rule.
- CHAPTER 18 -
TRISTAN
TRISTAN SKIPPED LUNCH.
The rest of the apprentices were probably talking about what had just happened, and he didn’t want to deprive them of the opportunity to gossip. The commander and his son, at odds again.
Rather than turning right toward the dining hall, he turned left, around the side of the temple and back to the apprentice barracks.
Inside, he paced.
Quiet as the mountain. Still as the mountain. Calm as the—
A surge of frustration reared up, and Tristan whirled, throwing a punch clean through the wall.
As quickly as his anger came, it leaked away. He sighed loudly, forcing the air from his lungs. He examined the hole in the wall, then his banged-up knuckles. Luckily, the wall was more of a screen, made from wooden slats woven together and not the heavy planks they used in the valley.