Moria stared at Gavril's hand. Blood seeped through his fingers as he held the blade. Her heart pounded. A warrior's sword was unbelievably sharp--new ones were tested on dead men, and a blade that could not pass through at least two cadavers with one slice was discarded. With a twitch of that sword, Gavril could lose his fingers. She stepped forward, touching his back, but he kept his gaze locked with the other man's. Gavril pulled the blade down, then he released it.
"Warriors." The small man spat to the side. "It's a wonder they haven't all died out from their own reckless stupidity." He turned to Gavril. "You think you're brave, boy, but all I see is a coward hiding behind a girl. Hiding who he is." He nodded at Gavril's covered arms. "Or are you ashamed of your family?"
"I am not. I stand here only as the Keeper's guard. That is my duty: subsuming my own identity until she is safe."
"How noble." The man sneered and spat again. "Warriors."
The big man stepped forward. "Do you still insist on seeing your sister before you'll enter, Keeper?"
Moria straightened. "I do."
He whispered something to a man near him. The man loped off into the village. Moria and Gavril waited in silence. When the man returned, leading two women with hoods hiding their faces, the true guards stiffened. The big man shot them a look, and they dropped their gazes and shuffled back.
The man pushed the two women forward. The big man yanked back the hood on one. It was a middle-aged woman.
"Is this your sister?" he asked.
Moria's mouth tightened. "Of course not. My sister is my twin. We look alike. If this is a game--"
"So it is not your sister?"
"No."
The man's dagger shot out. Before anyone could react, he sliced the woman's throat. Moria leaped forward, but Gavril caught her, his hand gripping her cloak, holding her fast. The big man held the woman by the hair, her throat split, eyes rolling as her hands frantically grasped her throat as if she could hold it shut while blood gushed over her fingers.
He's making me watch her die.
Moria tried to pull away from Gavril, but his arm went around her waist now, his lips to her ear, whispering, "No, Moria. You cannot save her."
The big man dropped the woman. Just dropped her, still writhing, still gasping, still dying. He yanked down the hood on the second woman, a girl barely older than Moria, tears streaming from her wild, terrified eyes.
"Is this your sister?"
Moria glared at him as hate bubbled in her gut.
Someday I'll slit your throat and watch you die.
"Will you come in the village now?" he said. "Or do you still wish us to find your sister first?" He stepped toward them, ignoring Daigo's snarl. "She is in there, Keeper. This is but a lesson. I am in command here. You will obey me or you will get another lesson. There is a whole village waiting to help me teach you. Now, will you come?"
She brushed past him and strode toward the gates.
Ashyn
Thirty-eight
Ashyn crawled across the rafters. Dust filled her nose, and her mouth, too, when she forgot to close it. She had to bite her cheek to keep from sneezing. She couldn't even stifle herself with her sleeve. She was dressed only in her shift, so she wouldn't get her clothing dirty and tip
off their captors to their escape plan.
Escape plan was an exaggeration. Escape hope was closer to the truth. Or, if she was being realistic, escape fantasy.
Ronan had come in through the roof. Naturally, their captors had figured that out and plugged the hole. It stood to reason, then, that Ashyn and Ronan would not attempt to escape through there. Except there was no other way out. The windows were battened shut, and after half a day working one free, Ronan had peeked through to see a village warrior there, waiting. Any attempt to distract the front-door guard or lure him inside had been met with derision and mockery. So the only option was up.
Ronan had spent half the night working at roof tiles. Now it was Ashyn's turn. And she wasn't nearly as enthusiastic about the task as one might imagine.
It wasn't merely the low chances of success that discouraged her. She was being held captive, with no idea what fate lay in store for her. Of course she'd escape any way she could.
The problem was Tova. He could not possibly take this route. Earlier, when Ronan came in through the roof, she'd presumed he was going to lead them out some other way. If he'd intended to go back up onto the roof, she never would have followed. Not without Tova. When they'd hatched this plan, she'd said as much, and he'd brushed off her concerns, which made her suspect she was not making an escape route for three. She was making it for one.