Typical.
I stalked back to my seat, digging into my lukewarm stew. The group was silent, and I raised my head. “What?”
Lorian placed the cup in front of me and filled it with water. I gulped at it. The water was cool, and it soothed my dry mouth and throat. Rythos glanced at him and quickly dropped his gaze back to his food.
“Nothing.”
“We haven’t seen you cry before, that’s all,” Marth said. “We wondered if maybe you were on your woman time.”
I snarled, but Lorian clamped his hand on to my arm, leveling a warning look at both of us. “Quiet.”
I spooned up more stew, taking the extra piece of bread Lorian slid me. It felt almost like a silent apology.
“We need to teach you to fight,” Galon said after a long silence.
“I know how to fight.”
The silence became thicker, and I glanced up from my bowl. “Just because I haven’t demonstrated the best of my abilities since I met you giant ruffians doesn’t mean I can’t protect myself. My brother and his friends taught me to fight.”
And I missed them with such a wild longing, it felt as if someone had carved a hole in my chest. My eyes stung once more.
Galon scratched at one eyebrow. “I’m sure they did a good job of it. But there’s a difference between fighting for fun in your village and fighting for your life. We’ll make sure you at least have a chance of survival when we leave you in the city.”
I lifted my gaze once more. Galon was talking as if he actually cared. I opened my mouth to snap at him, but a long sigh came out instead. If he was offering to help me stay alive, I’d take him up on that offer.
“I’d like that.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
After making my way up to my room, I paced, debating the merits of stealing a horse from the stables and striking out on my own. There were definite benefits to traveling with the mercenaries—including their hunting and cooking skills, and the fact that they seemed to know all the best routes to avoid the guards.
But there was no doubt that a single woman traveling with five men drew attention. I could pull up the hood of my cloak, but I couldn’t disguise my build.
Finally, I fell into bed and slept the sleep of the half dead. Each time I stirred, awoken by a loud laugh from the hallway outside my room or the voices of angry drunkards below me, I immediately slid back into a sleep so deep, I could only hope Lorian didn’t have us up before dawn.
A scraping noise sounded. My eyes shot open, my body tense. A hand slammed down over my mouth. A huge, callused hand.
I screeched, bucked, kicked, clawed.
“Uh-uh,” the bearded giant from earlier snarled. Cool metal wedged against my neck. “Be nice, little bird, or I’ll slit your throat and leave you to drown in your own blood.”
My lungs burned, my throat screamed for air. I sucked deeply through my nose.
Beard pinched my nostrils closed.
I thrashed, hitting out uselessly. Black dots danced at the edges of my vision.
He lifted his hand. “Can’t have you dying too early.”
I panted, inhaling sweet, life-giving air. My limbs had turned weak. Blind terror punched into my gut. My heart stuttered. I couldn’t die like this. In a cheap inn, far from home. I refused.
“Be smart,” Tibris’s voice whispered in my head. “Wait for your chance.”
I slid my hand under my pillow and wrapped my fingers around the cool hilt of my knife. I breathed. Stilled. Waited.
The giant’s eyes glittered. His nose was broken, one eye puffy and swollen. Clearly, he was holding a grudge.
And I was the one who’d pay for it.
He looped a rope around my wrist.
“I’m going to kill you and leave you hanging at the inn entrance.” He grinned, leaning close, and his noxious breath made my head spin. “See how your man likes that.”
I could see it—Lorian and the others looking for me in the morning, only to find my dead body strung up in the inn. Cold, slimy fear burrowed into my chest and stayed there.
Beard hauled me up from my bed as if I were a kitten.
Now.
I slid my hand out from beneath my pillow and slashed at him.
The blade caught his ear, even as he ducked. He knocked the knife from my hand, the beginning of a yell leaving his throat.
He instantly cut it off with a glance at my door.
Within a second, the rope was looped around my neck, and he had me pinned to the bed once more.
I clawed at my throat like a wild animal, desperate for air.
A shriek rose in my head. The sound was high-pitched. Primal. Full of retribution.
It drowned out the couple arguing in the alley below us. It smothered the taunt of the giant on top of me. It consumed my fear and doubt, until only one word remained.
Stop.
The giant froze.
Sobbing, I ripped his hand off my mouth. But I was still pinned.
Roaring filled my ears. I tossed wildly beneath the giant, pushing with everything I had.
My right leg came free. I planted that foot in Beard’s side and heaved.
Free.
Run.
Don’t look back.
Scrambling off the bed, I sprinted toward the door, howling for help.
Pain erupted in my scalp, and I dropped to my knees.
“Magic, huh? You’ll make me a rich man, you little bitch.”
I fumbled, my hand sweeping along the floor for the knife.
Beard pulled me up by my hair, and I shrieked, my scalp burning.
I swung, slashing out with the knife.
He howled, his hands clamping over his shoulder as blood sprayed. I stabbed at him again, and he dropped to his knees. I screamed wordlessly, driving my foot into his gut.
And then my room was full of furious males.
Lorian took one step inside and threw the giant across the room. Rythos stepped in front of me, blocking the scene from my vision.
“Give me the knife, darlin’.”
I stared up into Rythos’s face. His eyes blazed with fury, but his expression was calm. His hand was gentle on mine, and still, I flinched as he unwrapped my fingers from the wooden hilt.
He handed the knife to Galon and then wrapped an arm around me. Safe. I was safe. I’d begun to shiver, and he tightened his arm. “Don’t look over there. Come with me, Prisca.”
I allowed him to lead me to their room. A few of the men followed, but I was dimly aware of Galon staying with Lorian. Other guests were flooding into the hallway. One of the women caught sight of my shirt and the blood staining it. Her mouth fell open, and she let out a wild shriek.
Rythos growled and I jolted, not used to such a sound from him. He reached out and brushed a hand over my hair, but his gaze stayed on the woman. She shut her mouth.
Rythos sat me on the lone chair in their room. I stared at the wall while the men talked in hushed voices.
“Don’t do that.” Rythos’s voice was gentle as he pulled my hands from my throat. I’d been scratching at it, as if that rope were still wrapped around me. My cheeks heated, and I took a deep breath, burying my hands in the blanket he placed on my lap.