I released a sigh. “How did you find me?”
“A scout saw the warlord ride into Stalwart Bay yesterday. When I found out you’d left, I took a wild guess that’s where you were heading. I promised Garreth I’d find you and keep you out of trouble.”
“How angry is he?” I asked.
“On a scale of one to ten? Eleven. But he’s more worried than anything. He and Zabelle were arguing when I left because he wants to gather our forces and march on Stalwart Bay. A show of strength to convince the remaining clans to ally with the nomads.”
I turned to look over my shoulder across the hills, as if I could see all the way to Taloorah. Garreth would win that argument—he’d convince Zabelle. But what then? “The Dragonmen could slaughter them.”
“Our army can’t fight like the invaders, but we have as many men as they do. All we need is a little luck to swing the odds in our favor. I’m assuming you have a plan to get into Stalwart Bay. Whatever you’re up to, let me help.” He grinned like we were children planning a prank on our tutors rather than two warriors up against a demigod and his garrison of frost giants.
“You’re going to have to break your promise to Garreth,” I said. “Trouble’s exactly what we’re in for.”
I told him my plan. He didn’t like it, but there was no other way in that I could see.
We rode on in silence. Quinlan glanced at me, starting to speak several times, stopping himself. Finally he said, “Eathalin told me something. That she saw Reyker—his spirit, I suppose. He was there, fighting with the Dragonmen to overthrow Selkie’s Quay.”
A draft blew across the raw wounds inside me. “She was wrong. Alive or dead, Reyker would never fight with them again.”
“I guess not.” He paused. “Do you want to talk about him?”
“No.”
“Because if you did, if it would make you feel better—”
“I can’t.” Not with Quinlan. Not with anyone.
In front of us, a sliver of sea stretched across the horizon. Along its edge, the cottages and shops and docks of Stalwart Bay were spread out across green dunes that sloped down to the water. A channel had been dug around the entire village and the drawbridge was the only way to enter without a boat. From here, I could see Dragonmen—some guarding the bridge, others patrolling both sides of the channel.
The crystal dagger had been a constant presence at my side since I’d found it, but I couldn’t risk it being taken from me, falling into Draki’s hands. I held the dagger on my palm, wondering if I should give it to Quinlan for safekeeping or bury it beneath a tree and come back for it later. Neither felt right.
As if it read my thoughts, the dagger melted to a pool of liquid crystal in my hand. The liquid circled my wrist, hardening into a bracelet. When I tried to pull it off, it didn’t budge.
Quinlan’s brows rose. “No dull moments with you, eh? Vengeful gods, mind-controlling warlords, shape-shifting daggers around every corner.” There was no mockery in his tone, nothing but wonder. He was the only person left who never looked at me like I’d become a stranger, who made me feel like I was still that same girl who’d punched him for tugging on my braids. “You’re sure about this, Lira?”
“I am.”
He slid off his horse and climbed onto Wraith behind me. “Whether it works or not, Garreth’s going to kill me.”
Passing Wraith’s reins to Quinlan, I leaned into him, closing my eyes, letting my limbs go limp as his arms settled around me. Shouts rang out as we reached the bridge, demanding us to halt. I heard the threat of steel as the Dragonmen clanged their swords and axes together in warning.
“I serve King Madoc,” Quinlan called. “I’ve brought a gift for your warlord on the king’s behalf. A highborn lady, young and fair. Come and see.”
The Dragonmen came forward. I felt their eyes on me.
“What’s wrong with her?” one of them asked in heavily accented Glasnithian.
Quinlan told the story just as I’d instructed. “She tried to run, so I had to hit her in the head. She’ll need a gifted healer if you want her to live.”
Suspicious, the Dragonmen conferred in Iseneldish. One suggested summoning the warlord.
I’d expected this. Draki’s men weren’t complete fools.
“There are more girls where this one came from,” Quinlan said, “even prettier than her. I can bring them to you, if it pleases the Dragon.”
That was all it took.
“Give her over,” the Dragonman said. “We’ll take her to the healers. Be more careful with the next ones you catch. The warlord doesn’t like his possessions damaged.”
As the Dragonman started to pull me away, Quinlan held on.
My chest constricted. He was going to ruin our ruse and get himself killed.
Go, Quinlan. You have to go.
His arms loosened, releasing me. I didn’t breathe until I heard him riding away. The Dragonman who held me carried me across the bridge, and just like that, I was inside the sieged village.
I cracked one eye open, making note of the path the Dragonman took to get to the infirmary. He entered the wooden building and laid me on a table, calling the healers over, telling them of my condition before he left us. The door closed.
I looked up into the faces of two women not much older than me, one with chestnut hair hanging down her shoulders, the other with strawberry hair tied into a braid, their eyes foggy and faraway. We were in an herb-scented room lined with shelves full of vials, so much like Ishleen’s cottage I had to bite down against the memory of it. I counted nine other girls in the room, sitting or standing or pacing aimlessly, all of them trapped within the web of Draki’s spell.
My blood responded to their presence, effervescent, like calling to like.
The healers touched my head, examining me, but when I pulled away, they didn’t try to stop me. They only stared in silence.
There was a scalpel on one of the tables. I took the brunette healer’s hands in mine, wrapping her fingers around the instrument. Without touching the scalpel myself, I guided her hand with my own, cutting a skoldar into the wrist of the red-headed healer: a small knot meant to resemble hands holding a heart, the symbol of healers. Then I took the redhead’s hands and did the same to the brunette, before pressing their bloody wrists together.
Though they hadn’t so much as flinched during the entire procedure, now they both blinked as if waking from a long sleep, awareness seeping slowly into their expressions. The brunette gasped, and the redhead backed away from the bloody scalpel I held. “Who are you?” she asked.