Lorian stepped into the room. His knuckles were bruised, and a muscle twitched in his cheek when he looked at me. “Tell me what happened.”
My throat thickened until I could barely breathe. For some reason, a ball of shame was burning in my chest.
“Prisca.” His voice was gentle, and he crouched in front of me, the remaining fury drained from his expression. “If you can’t talk about it…”
The unexpected gentleness shook some of the fog from my mind.
“I-I was in such a deep sleep. I woke, and he was already in my room. How did he get into my room?”
I loathed how small my voice sounded. Lorian’s jaw clenched. “It’s likely that he stole a key from the innkeeper. The idiot’s lying in a drunken heap by the fire.”
I nodded, still feeling as if I were stuck in a nightmare. As if I were about to wake up at any moment.
“You don’t need to talk about it,” Lorian said.
Our eyes met and held. Not pity. Sympathy and banked fury, but he wasn’t looking at me like I was a victim. That look made me steadier.
“No. No, I want to.” I took a deep breath. “His hand was on my mouth, and he pinched my nostrils until I couldn’t breathe. He said he was going to kill me. And then hang me up where you’d find me.” Nausea made my stomach swim, and Marth let out a rough curse from somewhere behind me. “We fought. I used my…my power.” I said the last word in a whisper, conscious of anyone who could be listening at the door. “He only froze for a second, but it was enough for me to take the knife and run for the door. Then his h-hand was in my hair, and he pulled me back. I slashed out. And I couldn’t stop. Wouldn’t stop.”
I’d been like an animal. All I’d known was fear. Fear, and the knowledge that I’d do anything to survive.
Marth opened the door. I hadn’t noticed him leave. He stepped back inside the room and handed me a cup of tea.
I took a sip. Peppermint. The scent both calmed me and cleared my head. “Thank you.”
“You did everything right.” Galon’s voice was rough, and he crouched next to Lorian.
“We need to leave,” I said. “Surely the authorities were summoned?”
Lorian gave a disinterested shrug. “An attempted murderer was felled by a tiny woman. Everyone in this inn just watched him stumble away. No one will be summoning the authorities tonight.”
I ignored the tiny woman part. “Are you sure?”
“The innkeeper is too drunk, and any guests have been suitably frightened by Rythos’s glare.”
Rythos snorted. The gentle ribbing between the men settled me more than the tea had. Some of the tension in my chest began to drain away.
“You’ll sleep in here tonight.” Lorian got to his feet. “We’ll leave at first light.”
I glanced around the small room, at the bedrolls that covered almost every inch of it. As much as the thought of going back to my own room made my stomach swim, I couldn’t see where exactly I could sleep in this room.
“Uh…”
“Get in bed. Here.” He took my empty teacup and handed me a clean shirt. I stared down at myself, suddenly revolted by the splatter of blood across Rythos’s shirt.
“Sorry,” I muttered to Rythos.
“Never mind about that.”
Marth stepped forward, looking suddenly awkward as he handed me a damp cloth. “For your face.”
My lower lip trembled. Who would’ve known this group of hard-faced, tough mercenaries had mother-hen tendencies?
I took the cloth and wiped at my skin, ignoring the rust-colored residue that transferred from my face.
The men all politely turned their backs as I changed my shirt. I climbed into the bed, and despite the fact that I was now surrounded by mercenaries, I felt strangely safe.
They somehow found room on the floor for Lorian, and within a few minutes, the lamp was dimmed.
I stared at the ceiling, unable to sleep. Each time I closed my eyes, my breath caught in my lungs, and I felt his hand over my mouth, felt his fingers pinching my nostrils closed. Felt the rope, unyielding and rough around my neck.
My eyes burned. I gave in to the tears that rolled silently down my face. And I wept. It was as if once I allowed myself to mourn, I cracked open the stone wall I’d erected between myself and the reality I’d tried so hard to ignore.
My tears dripped onto my pillow. For the village I’d never see again. For Tibris, either dead or running for his life. And for my mother, who was gone from this world. I’d forced myself not to think of her. Attempted to focus on the fact that she’d kidnapped me and then lied to me my whole life. But…
She also cared for me. She loved me. I knew that much. She’d done her best to ensure I kept my magic hidden as a child—continually moving villages to keep me safe.
And if the priestesses were right, Mama was now drowning over and over again in the waters of Hubur. Because she’d helped me hide from the king’s guards. Because she’d protected me.
I was the reason she was dead.
And I would have to live with that knowledge for the rest of my life.
Her face flashed in front of my eyes, and my shoulders shook with suppressed sobs.
All I’d been to my family was poison.
A warm hand came out of the darkness, and I jolted, swinging out.
“We’ll work on your form tomorrow,” Lorian said.
“What—what are you doing?”
“Can’t sleep for your sniffling. Move over.”
I moved automatically. When he sat on the bed, I froze.
“Figured you’d be going over it in your head,” he said gruffly, grabbing a pillow. “Sleep, savage woman. I’ll keep you safe.”
My breath hitched again, this time for a different reason entirely. I lay down next to him, studying the ceiling. He fell asleep almost immediately, his soft breaths steadying me. Across the room, Marth began to snore, the sound a low rumble. I closed my eyes, trusting that if anyone else came for me, these men would keep me safe. At least for tonight.
CHAPTER NINE
I stood in the common room of the inn, blinking again and again, as if, eventually, the scene in front of me would change.
The bearded giant who’d tried to kill me was currently hanging from a hook. Dead. The hook had been attached to the ceiling of the inn, near the fire. His teeth were broken, and a key had been shoved between them, glinting in the low light.
I would bet all the money in the hunter’s purse that it was the key to my room.
The innkeeper stood frozen, several feet away from the body, his face so pale, it was impressive he was still on his feet.
Beard hadn’t had an easy death. The skin around his neck was mottled and bruised, highlighting the cut I’d made in his neck. But that hadn’t been what killed him.
No, that was likely the fact that his hands were no longer attached to his body.
I wasn’t sure exactly when Lorian had killed him—he would have done it himself, rather than sending one of the others to do it—but he’d either taken care of it last night right after I fell asleep, or he’d hunted him in the small hours of the morning.
The floor felt as if it were tilting beneath me. Nausea swelled in my gut, and my mouth had turned bone-dry.