“You don’t have to hide it from me, Kyra. I know how angry you were.”
Hearing the tremor in Idalee’s voice was like seeing her get beaten all over again. Kyra reached out. It took her two tries, but she found Idalee’s hand. “Idalee,” she said. “What happened with Santon tonight…it was I who did it, not you. Don’t ever blame yourself for what they did to you, or what I did to—” She had to stop speaking, as images of Santon’s mangled corpse flashed again through her mind. “I lost my temper, and I…took things too far. I’m sorry that you have to bear the consequences.” And Tristam and Malikel as well. She didn’t know how far the ramifications would extend.
A long silence stretched between them. Idalee held tight to her hand. Lettie’s weight was warm in Kyra’s lap. The child’s ribs expanded with every breath.
“Will you be all right?” Idalee asked.
Kyra hadn’t expected that response, and she marveled at how lucky she was to have Idalee, Flick, and Lettie. She gave Idalee a grateful squeeze. “I hope so.”
A small point of light appeared near the house and bobbed toward them. It was a candlestick held by a very old woman. Her gray-white hair was loosely tied in a braid that hung over her shoulder, and she wore a luxurious night-robe of fine velvet, trimmed with fur.
Flick’s voice spoke from behind her. “Kyra, this is Mercie.”
The old woman looked them over. “I’ll take in the four of you tonight,” she said in a rich, throaty voice. “Flick and the sisters can stay until things calm down. But you”—she gave Kyra a pointed glance—“must leave tomorrow. It’s too dangerous for me to keep you.”
“I understand,” said Kyra.
“Well, then, move quickly.”
They didn’t bother waking Lettie. Flick picked her up, and they all hurried behind Mercie into her house. Kyra couldn’t see much by the candle flame, though the floor felt smooth and well polished under her feet. Mercie led them to a back room, where she laid out blankets and furs on the ground.
“In you go, then. We’ll talk tomorrow morning.”
If Flick trusted this woman, it was good enough for Kyra. She burrowed underneath the pile of blankets, not even bothering to remove her cloak. Idalee pressed her back against hers and they finally surrendered to sleep.
T H I R T E E N
There was a rush of cold air as someone pulled the blankets off her. Kyra’s eyes flew open, and she reached for her dagger. Mercie took a step back, holding up empty hands.
“It’s just me, lass. Red Shields are searching the houses in the area. Someone must have seen you last night. You need to get out. All of you.”
That woke her up. Kyra looked around. It was early morning. Racks of shoes, dresses, and hats lined the walls of their room, and the air smelled faintly of perfume. Idalee was shaking Lettie awake, and Flick stood at the window, running his hands through his mussed-up hair.
“They’re coming closer,” said Flick. Idalee pulled Lettie to her feet and fastened the girl’s cloak around her.
“You can go out the forest side,” said Mercie. “Quickly.”
They stumbled on sleep-heavy limbs through the house. Mercie opened a window and Kyra jumped through, followed by Idalee. Flick lifted Lettie over, then climbed out last. Now that Kyra was outside, she could hear voices in the distance, though the house blocked her view.
“The blankets, Mercie,” said Flick. “Remember to—”
“I can handle a dozen Red Shields,” Mercie snapped. She pointed to a heavy, flat stone a short distance from the window. “See that stone? When the narrow edge points toward the forest instead of the house, that will mean the soldiers are gone. You can return then.”