“What have you done?” she asked Rayne.
Rayne looped her arm through Seloue's and tugged her toward the door, stopping when she realized the girl wore only a white shift dress and slippers. Sweat glistened on her chest and soaked her hair. Though the snow had stopped, it was still winter. The girl would freeze. Rayne shed her own fur shawl and wrapped it around Seloue's shoulders, but when she began to unlace her boots, Tierri stopped her with a hand on her back.
“She can have mine,” he said.
And so when they emerged outside, they were all half-dressed. Rayne asked the coachman to take them to the smithy, which turned out to be a few blocks from the jeweler and off the main road. Rayne and Tierri studied the writ of ownership in the carriage while Seloue looked out the window, looking at Orabel as if she had never seen it before, and a tear snaked down her cheek.
“Are you well, Mistress Redbrace?” Tierri asked, reading her name off of the writ.
Seloue turned to him, clutching the fur around her shoulders. “No one has ever called me that before,” she said. “I wonder if I'm the last.”
Rayne's eyes wandered to Tierri, who looked away, down at his stocking feet.
? ? ?
The smith took the writ of ownership and studied it closely, running his finger over the embossed seal from Flagend.
“You want me to what?” he asked.
“Cut it off.” Rayne had repeated this at least twice already and was growing weary. She considered having Tierri restrain him while she found the clippers and got this over with. Here, the smell of fish was enhanced by the heat that seeped out from the shops’ fires. It was enough to make anyone gag.
“And replace it?”
“No.” She held a hand over her nose and mouth while she waited for him to acquiesce.
The big man shook his head as if the words didn't make sense. Tierri and Seloue stood just behind her, Tierri eyeing the sword that sat cooling by the forge and the hammer in the smith's meaty hands. Seloue looked terrified, her eyes wide as she cowered against Tierri. Of course the last time she had been here, she had been banded, her skin seared with hot metal that was never supposed to be removed.
“If the slave master comes to me about this—”
“You can send him to me,” Rayne said. She had no experience with the slave master in Orabel but she wasn't afraid. She had bought the right to do with the girl what she would, and this was her decision.
“Bring her forward, then,” the smith said.
Tierri nudged Seloue, but the girl didn't move. She was frozen in place. Rayne stepped back to her and gripped her hands, pulling her forward. The smith turned and pulled the heavy clippers from a cabinet.
“Does it hurt?” Seloue asked while Rayne undid the shawl and exposed her banded arm.
“Nothing like getting it on,” the man answered gruffly. “You there,” he said to Tierri, “hold her arm.”
Rayne held Seloue's other hand while Tierri secured her left arm. The clippers worked at the metal, and every time they caught skin, Seloue gasped but didn't cry out. When it was finally done, Rayne took the cut band from the smith before he could throw it away and gave it to Seloue. “To get you started,” she said.
There was blood on her arm, and an indentation where the silver band had sat for so many years, the skin there paler and calloused. Rayne wiped the blood with a cloth, but Seloue didn't seem to notice as she turned the band over in her hands. “The old bastard won't know what to do without me,” she finally said, laughter choking out of her.
“We'll get you set up with a room and the essentials,” Rayne said as they stepped out into the night. The street glowed with fire from forges in the shops that lined the street. At the end of the row, the ocean spread out below them, gray and vast and endless. “What you do after that is up to you.”
“Up to me,” Seloue repeated.
“You can stay here in Orabel. Go back to Lueland. Go to Shade. Come live in the palace with me. The possibilities—”
“Are infinite.”
The carriage was waiting to carry them wherever they wanted to go. The girls climbed inside, Tierri following them. As the group rumbled through the streets, Rayne's heart swelled. The people of Orabel swarmed the streets. Laughter spilled out of a tavern. A family gathered around a hearth, visible through a window. Rayne wasn't going to be a pawn anymore, and she wasn't going to let these people suffer because of her weakness. Before she had been a Knight, she had been a Crowheart, and Crowhearts were not followers. They were leaders, conquerors, rulers.
Seloue was talking to Tierri about her plans, about where she would go next, a smile on her face that changed her, made her look young and happy. One down, hundreds—maybe thousands—to go. And she would do whatever it took to make them all look like Seloue looked right now. She was still holding the writ of ownership and she handed it across to Tierri.
“Take care of this, will you?” she asked.
It took only seconds for the piece of parchment to catch fire in his hand. He held the flaming paper out the window and three of them watched it burn and shrivel into ashes.
? ? ?
“Good evening, General.” The guards stationed at the front door nodded at Tierri and Rayne as they passed. They had found Seloue a room at a boarding house and dropped her off after a late dinner, so it was nearly midnight. Still, the grounds were bustling with activity. It seemed the number of soldiers on duty had doubled. Rayne's eyes wandered the parapets, picking up shadows moving against the background of the stars, lamplight gleaming off of weapons.
Once they made it to her rooms, Tierri dismissed her maid and then walked from lamp to lamp, using just his fingers to bring them all to life, bathing her room in a soft orange glow. She watched him, but when she found herself wondering how it would feel to have those warm fingers against her own skin, she flushed and looked away, moving to a chair beside the hearth fire, where she sat to warm her frozen fingers. Seloue had kept the shawl, and when Tierri joined her, she saw that she had kept his boots, as well.
“I'll place an order for a new pair,” he said when he saw her looking at his feet, encased only in thick, woolen socks. “Boots are easy to acquire.”
Rayne nodded, pulling her eyes back to the leaping flames. She rubbed her hands together and held them, palms out, to the fire. Tierri took two steps closer and reached for her hands, cupping them in his. She had been right; they were deliciously warm. Rubbing her cold fingers between his palms, he glanced sideways at her.