When Serra returned, she resolutely avoided the spot on the bench were Vesperi sat. Mud and blood splotched her arms and stained her sheath, but the seer left the explanations to Sar Mertina, disappearing inside to change when Napeler confirmed there had been no new claren reports.
Vesperi was fine with that, more than fine. In truth, she waited for shackles to be clasped around her wrists. But the only restraints she felt were ones of silence from everyone in their group. News of the attack on Serra subdued them more than they already had been, each preferring their own thoughts. More of the frog people brought them dinner, or perhaps it was the same ones; Vesperi could not tell the difference. Soon after, she went to bed, the hut’s straw floor more welcoming than the others’ wary glances.
Whispers rose up as soon as she went inside, and a muffled, heated exchange followed. Janto’s guards disagreed—nay, argued with him. In Sellwyn, they would have hung for the gall of it, but Janto let them speak as though their opinions mattered. His tenor countered their voices, and Serra joined hers with his. Vesperi could not make out what they said, and she did not care to as long as her hands remained unbound.
There is no rope, but I am not free. Janto and Serra could not look her in the eye, yet they fought to keep her with them. It made no sense, but she was grateful they felt tied to her. Her hand traced the line around her neck where Janto or one of his men should have sliced the moment she confirmed killing the Raven. She should have denied it, but she was so tired when Serra had asked. It was easier to say yes, and she had felt lighter at once, as though she had lost her head after all by admitting the guilt.
She dozed until she heard footsteps walk from the doorway to where she lay. Vesperi sucked in her breath, bracing for the blow.
“You will cramp up in that position,” Mertina’s soft voice chided. The female guard stood tall, one hand resting on her sword pommel.
“Why are you speaking to me?” Vesperi cringed at her own tone. She hadn’t meant to sound as though upbraiding a servant. Sar Mertina was certainly not one of those.
“Because I did not want you to wake up screaming. This will all be more difficult if we aren’t well rested tomorrow. We’ll have to move soon.”
“No, I meant why are you in here at all? Has Janto changed his mind? Am I to be a prisoner again?”
“Then you should say what you mean, not sling barbs with your tongue at a friend.” The older woman shifted her tight black braid from her left shoulder to her right. “I am guarding you. That fight—the prince’s companions needed reminding of how great the threat is, even after seeing it every day. You are safe, but they do not trust you. Janto had to compromise.”
“But you know what I can do. None of you could hold me.”
The warrior laughed, and Vesperi wondered what her mother would sound like if she had ever done the same. This woman was no larger than Lady Sellwyn, but they could not be more dissimilar. Her mother would keel over from the weight of a sword, and Sar Mertina swung hers like a feather.
“You strike me as a woman who knows the performance is sometimes more important than the script.” Mertina’s smile was sly but genuine. “They need me here watching you so they can pretend sleeping next to you is not betraying themselves.”
“And you are not so concerned with your conscience?”
“The king trusted you enough to send you with his son. And the Lady Serra is willing to work with you despite your crime. I have served the Albrechts nearly all my life and definitely all of hers. Their judgment is enough for me.”
Vesperi was unused to loyalty that did not stem from fear of a noose. Mertina’s came from the right to weigh one’s rulers and serve them if they proved their worth. As she slipped back into sleep, the soldier’s smile dominated Vesperi’s dreams.
Her “guards” the next day were not so understanding. Hamsyn waited by the door when she rose to break her water. She gave him a pleasant “Good morning” without a trace of sarcasm, and he said nothing in response. Most of the others slept, but when she had finished, she spotted Janto leaning against a pile of glass shards, speaking with one of the Rasselerians. He had supported her, had convinced the others to let her stay with them rather than kill her on the spot. But when she placed a hand on his arm, he shrank back from it. The frogman stopped talking, flicking its tongue into the air between them instead.
“Good morning, Janto.” She tried to sound as innocent as she had with Hamsyn. She raised her elbows to the frogman. His tongue withdrew into his mouth.
“Mer Hallorn here has informed me of another attack close by. We need to move fast—the villager fell silent only an hour ago, so the claren will be there in mass.” No greeting, only business. It doesn’t matter. She could do this without camaraderie. It was how she had always lived her life.
“Should we get Serra and go then? We could be back before anyone else woke.”
Janto disturbed the ground between them with the toe of his boot. “No, we will all go. They would not like it if we split up. I will wake them. Just—” he waved his hand “—just wait right here.”
Hamsyn took a few steps closer to her as Janto went into the hut. His eyes never left her, watching and waiting as though she were a hare hoping to flit away. It was almost funny, considering what she would do if trying to escape.
“Here.” The Rasselerian offered her a corn cake that looked more appetizing than Yarowen cheese, at least. “You must keep your strength up as you travel. The need is great.” She tried not to touch his webbing as she took it. No one in their group was apt to offer her food this morning, and Serra kept the store. There was no request she would ask of Serra presently.
The seer came out of the hut just then, and the first thing she did was seek out Vesperi. Their eyes connected long enough for Vesperi to feel the hatred. It felt worse than it had been yesterday. Yet Serra had defended her last night, had fought alongside Janto to keep her alive and working with them.
I should have escaped when only one of them was awake to guard me. But the disappointment it would cause the king and her companions kept Vesperi rooted to the spot no matter what her survival instincts said. Curse Mertina and her talk of loyalty.
She scowled. She did not have to like it.
During the ride to whatever hovel had been attacked, Vesperi readied her talent. Napeler rode beside her, and the disdain rolled off him in waves that she used to strengthen her tie to Esye, scorn that she could channel when she received the go ahead from Serra. All that power waiting right there for her to pull it and then release. The air thrummed, and she drummed her fingers on her thighs in anticipation. When the frogman Hallorn stopped them, she dismounted and scanned the horizon, impatient.
“Let’s go,” she said to the nearest person when she spotted the low-lying roof. “We have bugs to kill.”
“Maybe you could sound less excited about what you do.” Flivio cocked his head. “We might find you more tolerable if you did not take such obvious joy in it. I bet killing gets you off better than an orgasm.”
Amusement and cruelty mixed in his face, a combination she had last seen when her father laughed away the hopes she had dared to harbor. She responded to it the same way she had then. But this time when she ran, it was into the fray. These people might never trust her, but she would make them respect her regardless.