The hands supporting her tightened on her arms. “I can’t believe you were stupid enough to show your face here. Where is the cowardly bastard you call husband? I hear he faked his own death to avoid paying his dues for killing Kanon.”
“Finn was never a coward. He was rash and bold, but never a coward,” A man called from one of the tables. His voice was cultured and low as he spoke and didn’t quite hold the same accent as her captors.
Jala turned her head at the words trying to locate the newest speaker. She hadn’t expected to find any allies here and wasn’t sure who it was. The sound of boot heels behind her gave her pause and she waited as the man slowly circled around her to stand directly before her. He was average height with long brown hair that was pulled back neatly in a braid. The expression on his face was one of interest, but not one of sympathy. His amber eyes trailed across her face and then slowly down her ragged dress to her feet. Leaning back on his heels he straightened his coat carefully and met her eyes. “Do you know who I am?” he asked softly.
Jala remained silent for a long breath, her eyes lingering on the black coat he wore. It was cut just below the waist and made of material that was far beyond the means of a common soldier. It was the embroidery that captured her eyes though. The careful stitching of flames in yellow and orange that lined the bottom of the coat as well as the cuffs. “You personally, no, I’m afraid I don’t. I recognize the colors of Rivana though,” Jala replied coldly.
His eyebrow rose slightly and a faint smile creased the corners of his mouth. “Bound and trussed and still defiant,” he said softly and nodded his head with what might have been approval. “My name is Hexian Rivana. I am the General of the Northern armies in Rivana. It was my nephew that your husband killed in the arena.”
“Devron earned that death,” Jala cut in her eyes narrowing.
“You didn’t let me finish,” Hexian chided with a smirk. “I was about to say I owe you my thanks for that. Pity he didn’t stay dead. Devron is a righteous little shit and in my opinion a waste of the air he breathes.” His smile grew at the look of shock on her face. “Just because we share the name doesn’t mean there is love among us. Release her, Keller. Lady Merrodin and her companions will keep me company at my table until Kithvaryn chooses to speak with one of us.” There was a snap of command in Hexian’s voice and Jala felt the hands on her arms loosen their grip at once, though not entirely.
“She is a prisoner, Lord Hexian. Her Arovan knight killed one of our scouts. I can’t just let her go,” Keller objected, though his voice was wavering.
Hexian’s eyes narrowed and he looked past her to stare directly at her captor. “Are you suggesting that I am not capable of preventing the escape of a half-drowned girl and her two wounded companions?” His voice was low and dangerous as if daring the man to offend him further.
“We don’t take our orders from you, Hex, and I still have a few things I’d like to ask the half-drowned girl.” It was a woman’s voice this time, and from the back of the room. The crowd parted as the woman crossed the room toward them. Her long dark hair was pulled back in a high ponytail and the expression on her pale face was murderous.
“Who is she?” Jala whispered to Hexian as she watched the woman approach. It was obvious from her armor that she wasn’t simply a common mercenary. The quality of work on her breastplate rivaled the detail on Valor’s.
“Commander Kithkara, I’m surprised such a trivial prisoner has attracted your esteemed interest,” Hexian said as he half turned to face the woman.
“Trivial? Half of the High Lords are screaming for her blood. I scarcely think she is trivial,” Kithkara returned dryly, her eyes moving past Hexian to fix solidly on Jala’s face. “Where is Finn Sovaesh?” she snarled her eyes narrowing.
“Dead and trapped in the Darklands. I failed to raise him,” Jala answered bluntly, the truth of her words tightening her throat painfully.
“Look at her expression Kara. You cannot fake that suffering. She speaks the truth to you. I attended the services in Avanti myself. It was a small affair that was kept quiet for the most part, but I felt obliged to show my respect for the month of peace he gave me from my nephew,” Hexian said with a sigh.
“I never trust words given so freely. I’ve found that the truth is only revealed by the blade of a sharp knife,” Kithkara replied, a wicked grin curving the corners of her mouth.
A gasping sob erupted from somewhere in the crowd and thunder rumbled loud enough to shake the very stones of the keep. Kithkara and Hexian both whirled toward the sound as the crowd parted once more to reveal both of Valor’s captors writhing on the ground. Valor himself was standing free of bonds, though he seemed a bit shaky.
“Harm her and I will kill you,” Valor warned, his hand dropping toward a sword that was no longer at his side. Rolling his eyes he let out a heavy sigh and moved both hands into a defensive stance before him as if he were prepared to take on the room full of seasoned mercenaries with nothing more than his fists. A spasm rocked the bodies of the two groaning men at his feet and they abruptly fell still.
“If they are dead, your life is forfeit,” Kithkara informed him in a flat voice, ignoring his threat completely.
“Well, this is headed down the wrong path swiftly,” Hexian muttered.
“Now would be a splendid time to wake up Sovann,” Valor hissed, his eyes moving constantly across the crowds for anyone moving. “They aren’t dead for now, simply unconscious. Release her and they will continue to live,” Valor added in a louder voice.
“You are outnumbered forty to one, you idiot,” someone called from the crowd. A wave of nervous laughter echoed through the room then dropped to silence once more as Kithkara held up a slender hand.