"I did not--"
"Oh, yes, you did. I could hear the snoring--"
"I don't snore."
He continued teasing her all the way back to camp.
Forty-four
Ashyn woke as Tova rose. While the night wasn't nearly as cold here as on the Wastes, she noticed the loss of his warmth and lifted her head. He nudged her cheek, telling her to go back to sleep while he went to relieve himself. But now that she was awake, she realized she could stand to do the same.
She glanced over at the small rise they'd agreed to use for watch. She could see a light-brown cloak and dark, tousled curls. Ronan was on duty. She started over to warn him where she was going, but his head was lowered, as if he'd drifted off. She didn't doubt it. He'd not seemed to sleep at all during their two nights in Fairview. She'd wake him when she returned and insist on taking her shift early, though she'd still tease him about it come morning.
She wasn't going far anyway. Just down by the stream, where the shallow gully offered some privacy. The horses were downstream, asleep. She gave them wide berth.
Tova wandered off, looking for a place to lift his leg. As she was unclasping her cloak she heard a faint whistle. An insect zipped past, as long as a finger joint. It hit Tova in the side. He snorted and twisted, biting at it, as if it had stung him, but it was too far for him to reach and clung in his thick fur. She walked over to pull it off. He took a step toward her. Then he teetered.
"Tov--!"
She didn't even get the rest of the word out before she felt something hit her neck with a sharp jab. She clawed at her neck, and something fell into her hand--too hard to be an insect. As she peered down at it, she had to struggle to focus, forgetting for a moment all about Tova and wondering why she was staring down at this odd little tube with a pointed end.
It looks like the quill that Moria had. Not the barbed tip, but the tube, hollowed out and . . .
Her legs gave way, and she was unconscious before she hit the ground.
Ashyn woke on a soft pallet. She lifted her head groggily to peer around the dark room, and spotted a figure sitting beside her.
"Moria?" Her voice sounded odd, like a frog's croak.
Her sister turned, but it was so dark Ashyn could only see the outline of her head.
"You better not be going out," Ashyn said. "You know Father hates it when you
and Daigo . . ."
Father . . .
The thought caught in her mind, and she could feel it buzzing there, trying to push past her sleep-stupor. Something about Father . . .
She couldn't focus. Her throat hurt and her head throbbed. Had she drunk too much honey wine? No, she was always careful since the last Fire Festival, when Moria wanted to know what it felt like to be drunk and Ashyn had spent half the night nursing her.
Fire Festival . . .
Again, the thought caught, and her gaze went to her hand. There was a ring on her finger. Silver with red stones.
Where did that . . .
Father. Fire Festival.
"Moria?" she said.
"Shhh."
Ashyn hesitated. Her sister sounded odd. Was her throat hurting as well? Ashyn struggled to rise, her hands gripping the coverlet. Only it wasn't her silk coverlet from home. It was coarse hemp cloth.
She heard a distant noise. Men's voices, speaking in a tongue she didn't recognize. She pushed up on her sleeping mat and peered around, her heart hammering now, mind struggling to put the pieces together.
As soon as she looked around, she knew something was missing. Something she ought to be able to see even in the dimmest light.