I folded my body around her, shielding her as much as I could. We felt as one, no part of us not connected. She trembled, but thankfully held silent. Her breath fanned hotly against my neck in violent little puffs, and then her fingers were there, finding my cut, lightly pressing at the wound as though she could slow the flow of blood.
I stared, unblinking, through a gap in the viny gorse, watching as the soldier crested the hill and took guarded steps down it, his sword drawn and ready. He studied our tracks on the ground.
I felt her heart pounding against her ribs and directly into me. Or maybe it was my heart. Curled against each other like two locked pieces of a puzzle, I could not tell where I ended and she began. There was just this. Us. One shared heart. And, if things continued to deteriorate, our joint death.
The soldier turned in our direction. I loosened a dagger from my boot. He neared our hiding spot, his steps easing cautiously closer. I could no longer see his face, just the scuffed cavalry boots encasing his calves so close now I could see the film of dirt coating them. I adjusted my grip on my dagger, preparing to jump out and thrust it in his heart. From there my only plan was to run—to take Luna and run.
Something exploded from the tree behind us, arcing through the air and landing on the soldier in a spitting, hissing ball of fury. He fought off the tree monkey that lunged at him, crying out as its sharp nails scored his face. Flinging the creature to the ground, he stabbed the reddish brown ball of fur repeatedly with his sword. He didn’t stop there either. His bloodied face twisted wrathfully as he stomped on it, his curses flying.
“Sangar!” a soldier called from the top of the hill.
“Coming.” With a final kick for the pulverized carcass, he turned away.
I watched him stomp away before looking down at Luna. I winced at the sight of her. She was a mess of oozing scratches, the wet crimson an obscenity on her skin.
“He’s gone.” I barely spoke the words. They were more like a breath against the side of her face.
She nodded.
Awareness swelled inside of me as I eyed her. Felt her curled under me. It had been a long time since I held anyone. Since I felt a girl’s body wrapped up in mine. She felt so small and soft—so very breakable.
A jarring reminder that everyone broke under the cruelty of this world.
I pulled back and was rewarded with a fresh thorn to the base of my neck.
“What’s happening now?” she whispered.
“Let’s find out.” We extricated ourselves from the gorse, earning new scratches for our trouble, and crawled side by side back up the hill.
I inched high enough to glimpse down at the tower. “Sivo is talking to them. They’ve forced Perla outside,” I whispered. “Dagne and Madoc, too. Two soldiers are supporting Madoc.”
A shiver rippled through her, and she bit her lip before saying, “Perla hates the Outside.” Her voice sounded small—almost childlike in its helplessness. “She must be terrified.”
I watched the scene unfold. The commander pointed at Dagne. Sivo shook his head and waved his hands in the air as though he was trying to pacify Henley. He wasn’t going to succeed. I had a flash of memory then, a fractured image of when I was a boy and happened on Henley in the royal kennels, torturing one of the dogs with a riding crop.
I blinked, chasing the image away, and focused on the present reality.
Madoc was clearly still in the grips of fever. His head lolled on his shoulders. He could hardly keep his gaze fastened on the group of soldiers. Dagne, on the other hand, looked wholly aware and alert. She stuck close to Perla as if that made her less visible to the eyes of all the men in the company.
Henley finally had enough. He shook his head as if finished listening to Sivo. He snapped something at his men and one of them stepped forward, grabbing hold of Dagne and pulling her away from Perla. She looked around wildly, crying out when Henley pulled the sword from the scabbard at his waist in one smooth move. She struggled, but the soldier held fast, pushing her forward. The freed blade sang on the wind as it cut through air and swiped down. Blood sprayed, spattering Henley in the face. It happened so quickly, the man’s actions mild and effortless as though he were scratching an itch and not snuffing out a life. As though he was not slicing into a young girl.
Luna jerked against me as though the sharp edge of steel was cutting into her—leaving me no doubt she was aware of the violence taking place below.
Dagne dropped to the ground, limp and lifeless. Perla tried to grab her. Madoc cried out. He struggled against the soldiers holding him. It was a weak attempt that didn’t last long. Drained, he bowed his head low and hung between them, shoulders shaking with sobs.
Air hissed out of my lips. She had done nothing to provoke them. It was an execution. Plain and simple.
“Is it—”
“Dagne,” I supplied.
Luna choked back a sob, her fingers digging into my arm. “Why?” A shudder passed through her. “Why did they kill her?”
A cold familiar numbness stole over me. “I don’t know.”