I leaned back, crossing my arms. “Those are my terms.”
Angry glances bounced between them, but no words. I watched their frustration mount, jaws growing rigid, nostrils flaring, chests rising with furious indignation. The silence ticked.
“We’ll move them,” Jase finally said. “And rebuild in another location.”
A heated chorus of grunts erupted. The others objected to this concession.
“But it has to be fair and equitable,” I answered, “water, good land, and still within a day’s ride of Hell’s Mouth.”
“It will be.”
“I have one other stipulation.”
Gunner’s hands flew into the air. “Can I wring her neck right now?”
“The Ballengers must do the work,” I said. “Specifically, the Patrei. You, Jase. You personally must physically help rebuild their settlement. It shouldn’t take long. A few weeks at most. They had so very little to begin with. I will stay on here—of my own free will—to make sure the work is done, and you will remove the guards at my door, so I will be a true guest, just as your letter so poorly tried to imply.”
Jase’s hands curled into fists. His gaze was deadly. “Sign the letter.”
“Does this mean we have an agreement?”
His chin dipped in a stiff affirmation.
Titus groaned.
A hiss burned through Gunner’s teeth.
Mason shook his head.
“Sign it,” Jase repeated and pushed the letter back in front of me.
I looked at him, knowing I had chipped away a large piece of the Ballenger pride, but knowing something else about Jase, too—or hoping I did. I saw it when he whispered stories to me late into the night, when he pressed a wish stalk to my blistered foot. I saw it when he held Nash in his arms then wiped away his tears.
“Thank you,” I whispered. I dipped my pen back into the inkwell and signed with flourish.
All is going well. In fact, after an unfortunate fire that destroyed some settlement structures, the Ballengers have generously agreed to rebuild them on a new site that will be even more productive. I know you’ve been busy with travel but I hope this news will hasten your arrival here. Please bring golden thannis as a gift of goodwill—our kind hosts deserve this honor. We look forward to seeing you soon.
Your ever faithful servant,
Kazi of Brightmist
Jase picked up the letter and examined it, looking for some sort of betrayal. “Thannis?” he asked.
“The thorny vine you saw embossed on my vest that the hunters took. It’s on the Vendan shield too. It’s a wild plant that’s native to our land—we take great pride in it. It’s our traditional gift we give to all visitors—unless, of course, you think a weed is beneath you?”
“I remember seeing it on her vest,” Titus said.
“A goodwill gift is fine,” Gunner interjected.
Jase nodded. “We’ll be sure to have a nice gift for her too.”
*
With the letter signed, I was returned to my room. Drake and Tiago escorted me to my door but then left, as per my agreement with Jase. When I went inside, I found a small bowl of fruit on the dressing table. Oranges. Three perfect oranges.
Had he already known I would sign the letter? Was this his thank-you?
I picked one up, my fingernail drawing a spray across its skin, and held it to my nose, breathing in its magic.
Or maybe this was the thank-you I never got for giving him the ring?
No, I thought as I peeled it.
This was just Jase remembering I loved oranges.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
JASE
Even with both windows open, the air was hot, still, as if the world had stopped breathing. My back was damp against the sheets. It seemed impossible that only this morning when I woke I was lying on a bed of grass with Kazi nestled against my chest, a chain still connecting us.
It was well after midnight and I should have been passed out in my bed with exhaustion by now, but instead I tossed and turned and paced—in one of the guest rooms. Oleez had been afraid to tell me. I was finally back at Tor’s Watch and shut out of my own room.
I could have easily had Kazi moved, but there were other battles ahead and this one wasn’t worth fighting—and strangely, some part of me liked the idea of her being in my room. I wasn’t sure why. This room was larger, more comfortable, meant to impress guests, and I knew by now she had probably explored every thing in my room. What did she think? Had she gone through my books searching for the stories I shared with her? Rummaged through my clothes? The forgotten clutter in the bottom of my wardrobe? There were three knives that I could remember. I suspected she already had one on her. I wasn’t worried. Had she taken another bath? I saw the revulsion in her face when Titus threw the ears on the table. After she left, I grabbed him by the collar and threw him up against the wall. Don’t ever do that again, I had told him. We may have dirty work to do, but everyone doesn’t need to see it. Especially not her. I had seen her expression—the fear—when she thought I had harmed her friends. Killed them. The terror in her eyes had whittled through me like a dull knife. She had seen something in my face, maybe all of our faces. She knew death when she saw it.
The harm I actually did do hadn’t been hard for me, and I would do it again.
Foley had come to tell me what had happened.
When Mason, Gunner, Titus, and I walked into the warehouse, Lothar and Rancell already had them on their knees. Tiago and Drake hovered nearby.
“We spotted their wagon in an alley,” Rancell said. “When we lifted the tarp we saw the brewer’s boy gagged and chained. The other chains were still empty. They hadn’t gotten the rest of their cargo yet.”
I stepped closer to the three men. Two of them began crying, begging for mercy. The third said nothing, but sweat beaded on his forehead. They were a more ragged crew than the ones who had taken Kazi and me. Their tattered clothing was ripe with stench, their knuckles creased with filth, but their story was the same. They’d been paid up front, but they didn’t know by whom. The fellow who approached them with a fat purse wore a wide-brimmed hat pulled low, and they weren’t even sure what color his hair was.
“Which of you took the money?” I asked.
“He did,” the two sniveling ones cried.
I looked at the silent one, his sweat the only indication he knew the gravity of his situation. My hatred for him rose to a different level. It was personal. The brewer’s boy was fourteen.
“So you’re in charge?”
He nodded.
“Have you done this before?”
“Not here. Other places. It’s good money. But he said it had to be Hell’s Mouth and—”
“You know whose town this is?” I asked.
He swallowed, his expression suddenly crackling with eagerness. “I’ll give you a cut,” he said. “We can make a deal. Half. You want half? Half for doing nothing.”
“You know what would have happened to the boy you grabbed?”
“A mine. He would have worked in a mine. That’s all. Good hard work.”
There was nothing good about dying in a mine. Nothing good about being shackled and hauled in the back of a wagon against your will. He couldn’t conceive that the brewer’s boy had a life, a future. He only saw him as an article of profit. I drew my knife.
“All. You can have it all,” he pleaded. “The money’s in my vest. Take it.”
“All of it?” I stepped closer and knelt so we were eye to eye. “That’s quite a deal you’re offering, but I’m in a hurry, so here’s a better one. I’ll kill you quickly instead of letting my dogs tear you to pieces—which is what you deserve.” I wasn’t sure the words had even registered before I plunged my knife into his throat. Blood sprayed my shirt and face, and he was dead before I had pulled my knife free.
I stood and my attention turned to the other two. They began wailing, trying to back away on their knees, but Mason and Titus stood behind them, preventing them from going anywhere.
“Want me to do those two?” Tiago asked.