He barely heard the last words. She was offering him crumbs. “Do you think you could ever love me?” He saw the answer in her eyes before the whisper had died on his lips. He understood before she murmured a sound.
She lifted her hands slowly and rested them on her belly. “I bear his child.”
He reached for her. She stepped into his embrace, resting her forehead on his arm as if putting aside a heavy load. “I don’t know what we’ll do, where we’ll go so that our child can be raised without hatred and pain.” He closed his eyes and felt a deathly stillness creep over him, a peacefulness such as he’d never known before.
He moved his hands slowly up her back, feeling the delicate bones, the thin layer of flesh through the silky cloth. His fingers touched her shoulders, slipped tenderly up to her throat.
She made one sound, an ecstasy so exquisite it could barely be discerned, before his fingers closed. She struggled almost not at all.
“Everlyn?” He eased her down gently and smoothed her hair back from her face, straightening the long strands until they fell prettily over her shoulders. “Everlyn?”
So still. So pretty. He placed her hands at her sides, touched her cheek. Her skin was smooth and warm. Her tunic was rumpled around her neck, and as he straightened it, a necklace fell out: a stone wrapped in fine silver wire, hung on a silver chain, shiny and black, shot through with red, and shaped like tear.
He yanked it from her neck, breaking the chain.
A sound, a soft chuckle, disturbed the silence.
He looked up and saw eyes staring at him from the darkness: Jelindra’s eyes, wild and mad.
“Get up,” he told her. “We’re leaving.”
The girl obeyed his orders, showing not the least hint of repulsion, though he walked with his arm firmly around her shoulders, so he could stop her if she made a sound.
He led Jelindra through the least populated areas of the camp. Kaede caught up with them at the line where his horse was tethered. “You said you’d come back for me,” she said accusingly.
He looked at her as though he’d never seen her before, yet he said, “Get our things.”
She stared at him open-mouthed for a moment, then rushed off. By the time he’d readied the horses, she had returned. She carried his bedroll and saddlebags as well as her own.
The sight of her snapped him back to reality. How long since-? His mind fled from the memory of soft skin against his fingers.
He looked around quickly. Still nobody had noticed them. “Stay here. Watch the girl. If she makes a sound, kill her.”
Kaede opened her mouth to question him, but he had already gone back into the camp, slipping silently among the sleeping Ogres.
He found Khallayne easily, quickly. She was buried in her blankets, only the top of her head showing, black hair spilling out onto the ground. He started to shake her awake roughly, then thought better of it and slipped his hand down into the blankets until her soft breath touched his fingers.
The soft skin of her cheek reminded him of another’s skin. He stroked her face gently, remembering soft skin and a sweet scent.
Khallayne woke, striking out at his hand. He clamped his fingers over her mouth, leaning down until his lips were against her ear. “Shhh, Khallayne, it’s me.”
She stopped struggling, and immediately he eased the pressure on her mouth, helped her to sit.
“No need to wake the whole camp,” he said easily.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” He picked up her boots and held them out. “It’s the girl. I need you to come with me.”
“Jelindra?” Instantly, she was wide awake. She took the boots and pulled them on. “What’s happened?”
“Nothing. She’s just-wandered away from camp, and she’s frightened. Come with me.”
Khallayne stood quickly and grabbed her jacket.
“That way.”
As Khallayne started to move, Lyrralt stirred and sat up. His bedroll was only a few feet away. “Jyrbian?”
Jyrbian put a finger to his lips and shushed Lyrralt.
“Jyrbian, what’s wrong? Where’s Khallayne going?”
Jyrbian gave him a look such as Lyrralt had not seen since Takar, one eyebrow raised high, self-deprecating charm twisting his mouth. “It’s none of your affair, Brother, if you know what I mean. Go back to sleep.”
Jyrbian picked up Khallayne’s saddlebags and eased away into the darkness. Khallayne was almost to where he’d left Kaede and Jelindra when he caught up with her.
Kaede and Jelindra were mounted. Kaede was holding the reins to the other horses. The girl appeared even more docile, even more remote, than before.
“What’s going on here?” Khallayne wheeled on him.
“We’re leaving,” he said. “Mount up.”
Kaede tossed him his reins, her expression murderous.
“I’m not going anywhere with you, Jyrbian,” said Khallayne.
“We don’t need her,” Kaede jeered.
Jyrbian responded to Khallayne as if Kaede hadn’t even spoken. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. But if you don’t, you’ll find her body”-he paused and jerked his thumb in the direction of Jelindra-”left to rot on our trail.”
“Why are you doing this? What’s happened?”
“It’s your choice,” he said conversationally. “Her only use to me is as a hostage, to keep you in line. If you’re not with me… And before you think of casting a spell, are you willing to bet you could take care of both of us before one of us kills her?”
When Khallayne still didn’t move, he turned his horse and started to ride away. Kaede followed him, leading Jelindra’s horse.
“I wouldn’t do that, Jyrbian.” Lyrralt’s voice came out of the darkness.
Jyrbian spun, his hand moving to his sword, and found himself facing off against his brother and Bakrell.
“Why not?” Jyrbian asked softly. He dropped his hand from his sword hilt, with his palm open and ready, dangling at his side.
“They’ve found Everlyn.”
Jyrbian started at the name. Quickly, he regained his composure. Beyond them, in the lights nearest the tent, he could see agitated movement.
“What’s happened to Everlyn?” Khallayne asked.
“She’s dead. From the bruises and marks on her body, strangled.”
“Jyrbian?” Khallayne stepped forward.
He was reminded of Everlyn, stepping between him and the human at Nerat. The memory seemed etched in blood.
“What happened?” Khallayne asked. Hers was a voice of reason, of conciliation.
“Everlyn was seeing a human male, at night, outside the camp.” Kaede also edged forward, her voice brisk, cold.
“Seeing a human?” Lyrralt didn’t understand.
“He was her lover.” Kaede spat the word as if it were filth.
The others responded with shocked silence.
Before they could react, Jyrbian surged forward and grabbed Khallayne. He yanked her by the back of her tunic, up and over his saddle. Before she could recover her senses, he thumped her across the back of her head and she went limp.
Lyrralt started forward, stopping when Jyrbian reached with one hand for his sword. His horse danced, agitated by the extra weight and the tension around him. “Go back, Brother. Go back to your miserable friends. Don’t follow us. Don’t-”
“Jyrbian, don’t do this.” Igraine’s voice, choked with grief, interrupted the scene. “There’s been enough damage. Don’t do anything more.”
“You’re responsible for this!” Jyrbian retorted, eyeing the silent crowd amassing behind Igraine. “You! Preaching of better ways. But there is only so much we can change while still giving honor to the gods. Still honor our traditions. If you continue this way, the vengeance of the gods will rain upon your heads!”