“I am not crazy,” Vrell pointed out coldly, “and it is called the Way.”
“If your Way is true, why do so few follow it?”
“Khai,” Jax’s voice boomed. “Leave him be.”
Vrell hid a smug smile. She ate her bread and meat first, saving the figs for last. The sweet taste reminded her of the plump raisins so plentiful back home.
The men ate in half the time Vrell did. She watched Jax while she nibbled her figs. The giant had removed his cloak and head scarf. He sat motionless, hands in his lap, head tilted up to the starry sky, glassy eyes staring at nothing.
His undershirt clung to his muscled torso. The iron cuffs gave the appearance of shackles on a convict bound for IceIsland, although these were not the same kind. Guards often stopped in Vrell’s hometown, transporting criminals to the icy prison. Those cuffs were always thin and chained to one another. Jax’s covered both forearms and seemed to be painted or carved, but she could not tell in the low light of the torch.
A quick glance at Khai caught him leering again. Did he suspect she was a woman? Could he read her thoughts? She swallowed her fear and nodded to Jax. “What is he doing?”
Khai yawned, his tiny mouth stretching abnormally wide. “Reporting.”
“To whom?”
“Your new master.”
Vrell blinked. “You mean to say he is communicating with someone? Now?”
Khai leaned back on his elbows.
She stared at Jax’s flickering eyes. “How?”
“Don’t play the fool with me,” Khai said. “You know how or you wouldn’t be here.”
Vrell pulled her knees up to her chest and took a bite of her last fig. Khai was implying that Jax was bloodvoicing someone. She realized she shouldn’t be surprised. She had seen Mother do it before, but never with her eyes open.
Why had Mother not tried to bloodvoice her in so long? Was she in danger? Surely she hadn’t forgotten her own daughter. Lady Coraline would not have arrived in Carmine yet. That journey would take at least a week. When she did arrive, Mother would certainly contact Vrell to let her know. Right?
Vrell sucked in a sharp breath. What if her avid focus to close her mind to the knights had blocked out Mother? That seemed a logical answer to Mother’s lack of communication. There had to be a way to connect with one person and block out the rest, but Vrell had no idea how. Dare she risk asking Jax?
When they had finished eating, Jax ordered Vrell and Khai to ready the horses. Vrell obeyed, though she was so tired she was certain she would fall asleep in the saddle. Jax wanted to sleep during the day, though, so she obeyed without complaint.
They rode over the same barren desert plains until the sun brought sweat to her brow. Vrell was so tired she hardly remembered the day’s journey. Jax stopped where a juniper tree and some chaparral bushes clustered together. Vrell tied up Nickel where Khai tethered the others. Jax took all three horses’ blankets and draped them over the vegetation to make a shady place.
Jax unfastened his bedroll from his pack and tossed it in the shaded spot. He looked to Vrell. “You have no bedroll?”
Vrell paled. She had not considered sleeping arrangements. How foolish. Someone else always took care of such things when she traveled. “No, sir.”
“Well,” Jax said, “the grass is rough, but at least it’s not rocky.”
Sleep on the ground? Vrell looked at her horse, blinking away tears. Of course the men would not give up their beds for a stray. Maybe if she made her rank and gender known?
She pressed her lips together and found them dry. Her mind weighed the consequences of revealing her identity. If she did, Jax or Khai would likely offer her a bed. She could sleep soundly. The knights would behave in her presence and return her to Walden’s Watch. She was not certain of Lord Orthrop’s political views, but there was at least a chance he would not turn her in.
On the other side, if Prince Gidon had offered a bounty for whoever located his intended, the knights might know of it. In that case, one of them might give up his bed to see her comfortable tonight, but in the morning they would escort her to Mahanaim, where she would be forced to marry the pig.
Or they might attack her.
She would keep silent and be thankful to sleep on the ground. The grass would be heavenly compared to a lifetime of sleeping on a featherbed next to a cockatrice. She suddenly realized why she disliked Khai Mageia so — he reminded her of the prince.
Vrell found a flat patch of earth a few yards from Jax and stomped the dead grass stalks flat. She got down on her knees and brushed away the broken blades and bits of sagebrush until she had a clear place to sleep. When she was satisfied, she glanced at the men. Jax had lain down. Khai was digging in his pack, his longsword stretched out behind him like a third leg. She strode away from the camp. She found a place where some chaparral obscured her view enough that the men would not see her use her latest privy.
When she returned to the shelter, Khai’s bedroll lay in the spot she had cleared to sleep in. She gasped. “What is the meaning—” She stopped herself before she spoke above her station.
One side of Khai’s mouth curved into a grin. “I thank you for clearing a place for me, boy. Saved me some work. About time you made yourself useful.”
Vrell seethed. Clearly that had not been a place for Khai. He had seen her clear it when Jax had told her the grass was softer than… Oh, why bother to think on it? The man had done it on purpose, and she would not let him see her anger. She turned her nose in the air and started trampling a new spot on the other side of Jax.
Then she realized a boy — especially a stray boy — would probably not put his nose in the air, so she slouched down and stuffed her hands in her pockets. Yes. Much more like a sulking boy.
She lay down in her earthen bed and curled into a ball on her side. The bitter chaparral smell filled her nostrils. She watched Khai pour red powder into a small, wooden bowl. He added a drop of water from his water skin and stirred it with a stick. What was he doing?
A sharp kick in the side woke her. A dark form loomed above.
She cringed as Khai sneered, “Up, sloth!” Then he mumbled, “What Master Hadar sees in you is a mystery.”
Vrell blinked wildly and scrambled back to avoid another kick. The sharp, dead grass scratched her palms. It was dark. Jax already sat atop his festrier and held the torch high. He held the reins to Vrell’s horse in his other hand. Nickel was already saddled and ready to go. Vrell sat up. Her body ached from so much riding yesterday and from sleeping on the hard ground.
She yawned and mounted her horse. She took a drink from her water skin, only to find it nearly empty. It had probably been unwise to use it for washing. What would she do if she ran out of water? Khai’s courser carried two jugs for the horses, but she had no desire to have her fingers broken.
Vrell’s eyelids were heavy in the darkness. She was thankful she did not have to walk. Occasionally she remembered to worry about slouching in her saddle like a boy, but she was too tired to keep up the concern. They rode for hours with only the clomping of hooves and the crickets’ song for company. Soon the darkness faded and the endless savanna lit up with the dull, grey dawn.
The air was cool, for now, and Vrell took a long cleansing breath. Her surroundings looked no better today than yesterday, however. Sagebrush and chaparral. A few juniper trees squatting here and there. But no streams, no ocean, no vibrant colors. With each step her horse took, the sun rose higher, the sky turned bluer, and Vrell grew more and more thirsty.
And now her water was gone.
Khai knew of Vrell’s bloodvoicing gift. Jax probably did as well. Maybe there was no point in hiding it. She spotted Jax’s red head scarf ahead. If she could get him aside, she could ask him how to bloodvoice someone directly. Then she could contact Mother. The instant Mother discovered Vrell’s plight, she would surely send someone to her rescue.