"I'll not mention the dagger," she said quickly. "Moria told our father she lost it. That's all that needs to be said if you treat me kindly."
"Treat you kindly?" The man laughed again.
The boy didn't smile. He was watching her with that same look of confusion he'd had when she spoke earlier.
He lifted the dagger. "You say this is your sister's?"
"Yes."
"You lie. Why?"
"What's this?" The man lifted the blade to Ashyn's neck again.
"It's the same girl," the boy said. "I swear it. She's making her voice sound different, and she's acting different, but it's the girl I got the dagger from."
"No, I'm Ashyn. You met Moria. My twin."
"Twin?" He said the word as if it was foreign.
"Born of the same mother, at the same time. My wombmate. We look exactly alike."
Now the man stepped around her, getting a better look at his captive. He slid the blade around, too, the tip digging into her throat. Ashyn tried not to wince.
"Boy's right. You lie. Twins are curse-born. Not allowed to live. Unless . . ." He turned to the boy. "She said you stole someone's blade."
"The Keeper," Ashyn said. "He stole the Keeper's blade." She looked down at her bare dagger sheath. "And now you've stolen the Seeker's, too."
The man stared at Ashyn. Then he shook his head sharply. "You cannot be."
"No? A Seeker hunting for the spirits of the vengeful dead, to give them peace? Isn't that a Seeker's task?"
"The dog," the man said quickly. "You don't have a hound."
She plucked pale hairs from her breeches. "These are his. He's back at camp. He was injured on the way in." She turned to the boy. "If you met my sister, I'm sure you saw her wildcat, Daigo."
The boy nodded, still looking confused.
She turned to the man. "You've kidnapped a Seeker. That is not--"
Her gaze fell on the blade in his hand. She'd presumed it was her dagger, but now she could see the long, curved blade of a sword. It had a boar's head just above the hand guard, marking it as a blade of the Inoshishi clan.
"That's Faiban's sword!" she blurted, startling the man. When the blade fell from her throat, she leaped forward. "What have you done with Faiban?"
"Who?" the boy said.
"The guard you took that sword from. He--" She stopped. "It was you."
"What?"
"You killed the bard. And the volunteers who were recovering bodies. The heart." Her knees weakened at the memory. "By the spirits," she whispered.
"Heart? What are you talking--?"
"She's mad, Ronan," the older man said.
He stepped toward her, but the boy--Ronan--blocked. The man let out a low warning growl. Ronan moved closer to Ashyn. As she turned away, she spied her dagger in the moss. She aimed toward it while she backed away from Ronan.
"I don't know what heart you're talking about," he said. "But that guard with you is fine. We knocked him out and bound him."