The arrow had pierced his skin and hit bone—he guessed his sternum. A lucky escape.
“Do we pull it out?”
“Leave it. If he's dying, he'll go quicker if you pull it out. I need him to hold on a bit until he can tell us where our little princess is.”
“Do you think she was with him? Maybe that's why the dogs have run off.”
“Maybe.” The general paused. “Who's gone after them?”
“The hunt master,” Juni said.
“You go help him. If Ava is that way, she might be a bit much for him on his own.”
A few of the men chuckled, and Luc heard the sound of boots running after the dogs.
“Let's set up camp here in the meadow. The horses need a break and there's water.” The general said nothing else, but Luc could hear the soldiers spring into action.
He was carried over the river, laid down on grass, and he heard a stake being driven into the ground, and felt a rope being tied to his right ankle.
He could feel the blood trickle from his wound, down the center of his chest to drip over the side of his ribcage. It felt like a lot, but he knew these things often felt worse than they were.
A fire began to crackle near him, and the smell of food cooking affected him more than anything else.
He and Ava had had nothing to eat since the day before, although at least they'd been able to drink their full at the stream before the general caught up with them.
He hoped she would stay where he'd told her to stay. If they started torturing him, he worried she'd give herself up, and that would be unbearable.
He also worried that he was too invested in her. He had only met her two days ago and some of his reactions surprised him—almost frightened him in their intensity—and yet, he didn't want to go back to being the way he'd been before.
Voices murmured in quiet conversation around him.
The sun was warm on his face and chest, and he realized he was comfortable and warm, more so than he'd been in a while. He didn't even need to run and hide. The worst had already happened.
He wished he could sleep. Catch up on all the hours he'd missed over the last week. Except that would be a terrible idea.
He didn't trust his reaction if they tried to wake him.
So he lay in a half-doze, as the soldiers checked on him now and then, and spoke amongst themselves.
“Here's the hunt master and Juni back,” someone called.
There were exclamations of concern, and Luc guessed they'd been injured.
He snapped out of the doze he'd been in, ready to give his full attention to what was going on.
“What happened?” The general didn't sound worried, he sounded annoyed.
“The dogs, sir. Something's spelled them.” The hunt master sounded beside himself. “They wouldn't come to me when I called, even ones I raised from pups. They stopped to drink and we caught up with them, and they wouldn't mind me, and when I tried to force one back, they attacked us. Attacked me.”
“Juni?”
“Something's wrong with them, sir. I don't know what. But the hunt master's right. They ignored him, and I've never seen them do that. When they'd drunk from the stream, they ran off again. Spooky quiet, sir, and fast. They just disappeared into the bush. We couldn't catch them.”
“And Ava?”
“No sign of her. And to be frank, I don't see how she could have been faster than us. We'd have caught her if she went that way.”
The general was silent.
“Do you think they were spelled, sir?” A soldier asked. “The dogs, I mean.”
“No.” The general moved toward Luc.
Luc could hear his steps, and then sensed him crouch near his side. “No, something's spooked them, or they've got the scent of something more interesting.”
“Sir—” The hunt master started to speak, then thought better of it.
No dog pack behaved the way Juni and the hunt master were describing. And the general was lying. Even Luc, with his eyes closed, could hear it.
“Wake up.” The general shook him, then hit him across the face, but Luc had expected something like this when the general settled in beside him, and he didn't react at all.
But there would be worse. A shake and a slap were child's play.
When he felt the tip of the knife jabbing into his side, he made himself go even looser.
Never react, never show pain.
He'd learned the lessons of the Chosen camps well.
“Is he dead?” someone asked.
“No. He's bleeding where I stabbed him.” The general made a sound of disgust as he moved back and stood. “I'll have to question him in the morning, no matter what, and then we start picking this countryside apart, looking for the woman.” He paused. “Because if we go back without her, I can assure you, not even I will walk away from the Herald's wrath.”
“But I thought—” Juni's voice trailed off.
“Thought what, soldier?”
There was a hesitation. “Thought the Herald wanted her . . . gone.”
“No. He wanted her dead. Not running around the countryside, alive.”
“But you said . . .” The soldier who spoke's voice trailed off.
“I said we had to go back with her. I didn't say she had to be alive when we did.”
Chapter 9
The afternoon seemed to drag on.
Ava was too afraid to move, so she was stuck in an uncomfortable position deep in the brush beside the river.
The soldiers had obviously been pushing themselves as hard as she and Luc, because there was almost a festival atmosphere in their camp as they hunted, dressed game and then cooked it, chatting over the fire.
The only person who seemed unable to get into the spirit of things was the hunt master.
Being bitten by his own dogs had crushed him. Losing them probably had, too.
Ava didn't feel guilty about it.
Those dogs were ill-treated, and she had more than a suspicion they would have been put down for their part in her and Luc's escape.
They would be better off with a good home in Grimwalt.
When the sun eventually set, the men ate a meal around the fire, and when the general turned in, the volume went up a little, and then cut off, as everyone made their way to their tents.
The tents were just two sets of poles which formed a triangle on each end, and a cross-pole, over which they'd thrown stained canvas covers. There were six of them, with two guards on watch.
Ava heard one of the guards talking quietly to the horses as he checked on them. She waited for him to move on before she worked her way out of the bush, carefully crossed the stream, and made her way to the horses herself.
The soldiers had only taken what they needed from their saddle bags, and Ava moved quietly and slowly as she looked through them.
She found two sewing kits, and almost wept at the bounty that represented.
She could see Luc, lying in the open near the fire, close enough that the glow of it washed over him, so the guards could keep an eye on him.
At least it would give him some warmth.
He hadn't moved all day, and she knew the general had stabbed him to try to wake him earlier.
It had enraged her.
He was obviously senseless, and she would have to get the arrow out and stitch him before they escaped. She would not be able to lift him onto a horse herself, and she didn't think she trusted her working enough to see if she could compel one of the guards to do it for her.