Liana put her hands on her hips and stretched, willing away the ache in her lower back. The fragrance of meadowsweet mingled with the tang of lemon balm and thyme drifted up from the flower-filled basket at her feet.
She studied the broad meadow, the morning sun glistening like jewels on dew-moistened leaves. Dazzling white daisies with yellow centers the color of the sun and bluebells as true as midday skies sat amid other flowers she had no names for, the reds and oranges, pinks and blues painting the meadow in vibrant colors.
The people of Haven were strange. Not only did they wear odd clothing, their language made no sense to her.
And they loved flowers, especially at Midsummer’s Eve.
Liana had brought flowers back to the Tedrel tent once and had earned a beating. Picking flowers now took every ounce of courage she had.
But pick flowers she did. It was the only way she had to earn coin.
Midsummer’s Eve was scarce a day away, and she had only filled one basket, albeit a basket large enough to bear a sleeping toddler. She glared at the empty basket sitting next to the full one and swallowed a sigh. Picking flowers was child’s play compared to the life she’d suffered before coming to Haven, so why did the task seem so difficult?
She was young—just turned fifteen—and the struggle wasn’t physical. Not really.
She was worried.
A slight dimple at the edge of the meadow, just inside the border of knee-high grasses showed where she’d left the twins sleeping beneath an oversized shawl. Liana studied the tall grass for signs of trouble and gnawed on her lower lip. She had wandered farther than expected during her first foray into the meadow . . .
It would take time to check on the babes—
Liana sighed. The abuse she’d suffered at the hands of a Tedrel mercenary had left her weak-minded as a worm—jumping at her own shadow, waking from nightmares that the children she’d birthed had transformed into two-headed monsters, each determined to make her life miserable. In the Tedrel camp, she’d been too numb to worry. Now it seemed she worried about everything—her babes turning into Tedrel monsters being the least of those worries.
Who would care for the twins if she took sick and died? Liana’s room and board had been paid for by the Herald who had brought her to Haven, but eventually she’d have to earn her own coin for food and shelter, wouldn’t she?
With a shudder, she slammed the thoughts—and nightmares—into a hole deep within her mind and buried them. Other than weeing on their poor mum—Reneth II being a better aim than his sister—there was nothing monstrous about the twins. Neither one had inherited their father’s disposition, though they could be a bit ornery at times.
She glared at the empty basket, chewing on her thumbnail, then sighed. She’d just take a quick look at the twins, then get back to cutting.
Quickly, she slid the slender knife back into the sheath at her waist, hoisted the filled basket, and waded back through the grass, straining to catch the slightest hint of something out of place where the twins were hidden. Bees added their soft buzzing to cheerful birdsong. Butterflies of all colors danced with the bees, briefly alighting on one flower, then flitting away to another.
No sign of trouble while she was approaching the twins. No sign of trouble as she set the overflowing basket to one side.
Feeling absurdly relieved, Liana lifted the shawl covering the babes, a shawl that doubled as both sling and blanket.
And discovered that she had somehow managed to lose a babe.
Belani stared up at her, blue eyes wide in wonder. She turned her tiny head toward the empty space where her brother had lain. Her tiny face crumpled, and she started to cry.
Liana watched her sobbing daughter, unable to believe Reneth was gone.
Yes, she had worried—that the twins would wake while she worked, that they might cry themselves sick or kick off the blanket and get burned in the sun . . .
She never imagined one would disappear.
“No, no, no, nonono!” Liana frantically shook the shawl, but no babe tumbled free. She floundered through the tall grasses, frantically parting the tallest sections and peering at the ground as though she were searching for fleas instead of a babe as her sense of foreboding threatened to explode into mindless panic.
A critter likely got ’im while ye had yer back turned.
Any attempt to think fled as the notion rapidly ballooned into a conviction that took over her mind. She thrashed through the grasses, filled with dread at what she might find. If a critter had dragged her babe off, there would be traces. Drag marks or spots of blood.
Her motions became more and more erratic as the world blurred around her. Her stomach churned, her heart squeezed in a painful knot, and she couldn’t seem to catch her breath.
Liana kicked a particularly stubborn clump of grass, welcoming the pain that shot through her toes. She deserved the pain, didn’t she? Good mothers didn’t lose their babes.
Then again, good mothers didn’t leave their babes untended while she wandered around picking flowers.
The aroma of torn grass filled the air, sending her into a fit of uncontrollable sneezing. Lianna fell to her knees, caught between a sneeze and a sob. She drew a deep breath, attempting to bring the world back into focus.
And failing.
Beyond the impossible images of Reneth crawling or waddling away, beyond the horrifying thought that something had carried him off, lay a sense of utter and complete terror.
Had the Tedrels found Liana at last? Had Grunt—the man who’d abused her and fathered the twins—taken the babe in retribution?
“No.” Liana swallowed against the terror threatening to choke her. Grunt was dead, killed in the Tedrel wars. She couldn’t give into the fear again. Couldn’t let the monster win.
Thoughts of Grunt triggered memories she’d thought locked away. His greedy, pig-eyed stare as he watched her moving about the camp—hauling water, washing his dishes, scrubbing his clothes . . . The predatory grin on his scarred face as his enormous fists struck her—
Something brushed against the back of Liana’s head, startling her out of the memories. A black shadow slid along the ground and a raven croaked somewhere close by.
“Grunt ain’t here. Grunt ain’t here,” she reminded herself, repeating the mantra several times—
Belani wailed. The heart-rending sound tore the air, slicing through the dread permeating Liana’s soul.
He’s back!
“No!” Liana screamed. She shoved to her feet and stumbled blindly toward Belani, tripping on the trampled grasses, certain she was once again too late. She fixed a glare at the spot where she’d left Belani, expecting to see someone running off with her child.
Except for the bees and butterflies flitting like dust motes in the sun, the meadow was empty.
Liana staggered to a stop, heart freezing in her throat.
The meadow was empty.
She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move.
Couldn’t find her daughter.
The raven croaked somewhere behind her, and she spun around, gulping air as she scoured the meadow, seeking signs of her daughter, besieged by the emotions buffeting her mind—
There.
Relief washed the world in a blanket of darkness as her knees threatened to buckle. There was no time for relief. No time for weakness.
She forced her feet to move. To carry her back to Belani’s side.
She needed help—they needed help.
She had to find her son.
Feeling as though her feet were mired in mud, Liana forced her way back to Belani. Blinking back tears, she scooped the babe, reduced to sobs and hiccups, into her arms and took off at a jog, prompting more cries from her daughter. She should slow down and reassure Belani, should tell her daughter everything would be all right.
But it wouldn’t be all right.
Nothing would be right.
Not until she found her son.
“We got ta get help,” she whispered, clutching Belani to her breast as she ran. The babe heaved a broken sob, the sound echoing the pain in Liana’s heart.
Even the softest sound can tear at a person’s soul.
Liana couldn’t remember who had whispered those words in her ear. Her mother—a woman she scarcely remembered—most likely. She hadn’t really understood the words.
Until now.
The entire world felt as if the sun had slipped behind a veil by the time Liana reached the cottage. She stumbled inside, her panic spilling like water over a fall.
“Taken he is,” she gasped to whoever happened to be in the room. “Help to find him we need.”
It took a moment for her eyes to adjust, the room as dark as her mood. She drew in deep breaths, struggling to slow her breathing and her heart, and stared down at Belani who stared back, tiny blue eyes accusing.
“We’ll find him,” she promised, though she had no idea how to fulfill that promise. A foreigner in a strange land, without coin, without friends—
“Who is taken?” A chair scraped on the wood floor. A moment later, Belani was lifted from Liana’s arms.
She immediately snatched her daughter back, clasping the babe to her breast as if Liana could pull Belani back into her body, could keep her safe. Her heart threatened to burst, and she couldn’t swallow for the dryness in her mouth. Even though she knew there was only one person in the room who would so blatantly take her child, her mind was filled with that moment of panic when she’d discovered her son missing—
“Take a deep breath and tell me what happened.”
Liana squinted, her eyes confirming what she already knew. The speaker was Danelle, the woman who had taken Liana into her home. Stocky, with streaks of gray in her dark hair, the woman reminded Liana of granite cliffs. No matter how hard the rain fell or the wind blew, Danelle refused to budge—or panic.
“Reneth.” Words tumbled from Liana’s mouth like wild water over rocks. She realized halfway through her explanation that she was speaking Karse and switched to Valdemaran, which only made the task more confusing. She continued talking until she felt gutted and drained.
“Stef,” Danelle told one of the boys standing nearby. “Go fetch the Watchman.”
The boy disappeared out the back door.
Danelle reached out her arms, and Liana reluctantly set Belani into them. The woman settled herself at a plank table set near the back wall of the main room. Belani started to cry, and Danelle hushed her, efficiently rocking the babe, holding her in one arm while she straightened a pile of wicks sitting to one side, ready to be made into candles.
“When the Watchman comes—”
Liana wasn’t waiting. Belani was safe with Danelle. Now it was time to go find her son.
“Tell them you will, please. Seeking the Herald I am,” Liana said. She turned and headed toward the front door.
“Sit. The Watchman will need to talk to you.” The woman’s words were a command, not a request.
Commands were always to be obeyed. Always. That lesson had been beaten into Liana, body and soul. Her footsteps faltered, dragging to a stop as surely as if she’d become mired in stone. She glanced over her shoulder at Danelle, sitting so calmly at her table, and gnawed on her thumbnail.
“The Watchman will find your little ’un,” Danelle said, shifting Belani to her other shoulder.
“Talk ta Herald Reneth is what I’m needing,” Liana said. The Herald and his Companion Bolan had rescued Liana from the Tedrels. They would know what to do. She frowned as the coppery taste of blood coated her tongue. She’d nibbled her thumbnail down to the quick again.
“Tell the Watchman your story.” Danelle nodded at a shadow darkening the open door.
“Not a story,” Liana grumbled as she stepped forward to greet the newcomers.
Two men wearing the uniforms of the Haven Watch strolled into the room. Liana’s steps slowed. One of the men was old enough to show gray at his temples and was smaller than the other man. The way the smaller man chewed on the ends of his mustache reminded her of a nervous weasel. The younger man’s head nearly brushed the ceiling. His square head and burly shoulders put her in mind of the monster she had fled little more than two months ago.
“This here’s Liana,” Danelle said as the two men stopped before the stone hearth opposite the table, ignoring the stools and rocking chair. “One of her little ’uns has gone missing.”
The air of authority surrounding the men brought a chill of fear to Liana’s belly. She pulled herself up straight and looked the smaller Watchman in the eye even though her insides quivered like spoiled milk. She kept her gaze from the bigger man and worked hard to assure her words were clear, though she stumbled now and then when she couldn’t recall a Valdemaran term.
Something kindled in the Watchman’s eyes as she spoke. Anger—the realization shot through Liana like an iron spear. He was angry with her.
He isn’t going to help me, she thought. But why? Because she was from Karse? Because she was young—
Danelle must have shared her concern. When Liana finished speaking, the woman slapped her hand on the table and glared at the Watchmen.
“I told her you’d find her little ’un. You get yourselves out there now and prove me right.”
A loud thud sounded from the kitchen and caught everyone’s attention.
“What now?” Danelle rose to her feet, handed Belani back to Liana, and stomped into the kitchen.
“The Watch has been alerted, and I’ve sent a runner to the Heralds,” the older Watchman said. “A Herald is on his way.”
Everything was taking too long. She should just leave. Start the search where she’d left off now that Belani was safe.
Years of struggling against authority, being beaten when she’d tried to rebel, was the only thing preventing her from dashing out the door.
Liana bit her lip, wanting to scream her frustration into those complacent faces.
Only they weren’t complacent. Not really. Both men’s faces were lined with concern.
Besides, screaming was another thing that brought on the beatings.
So she stayed quiet, restlessly shifting from one foot to the other, her insides threatening to leap out of her throat.
“You’d best feed that little ’un afore you get yourself gone. It appears our milk supply is greatly diminished.” Danelle called.
Liana ground her teeth until they hurt. The itch to be moving, to be doing something, drove her toward the bathing room just off the kitchen. Once in the bathing room, she laid Belani on a small table near the metal tub, removed the soiled diaper, and gently sponged the babe’s tiny body, no longer feeling as clumsy and inept as she had following the twins’ birth. She wrapped the babe in clean swaddling and stood, putting Belani to her breast. Eager lips went to suckling as Liana headed into the kitchen.
She found Danelle mopping up what looked like a pond of spilled milk, a boy barely out of diapers standing next to an overturned milk can, guilt plastered on his young face. The aroma of simmering stew started Liana’s stomach roiling. If she stayed here smelling that stew, she’d be sick. She didn’t need to eat; she needed to find her son.
“Finding the Herald I am when done this one is.” Liana’s broken Valdemaran was made worse by the panic threatening to sweep her into despair.
She turned away before Danelle could protest.
Bolan and his Herald had promised help if she should ever need it.
All she had to do was find them.
Liana didn’t know whether or not to feel relieved when a Herald showed up at the door just as Belani finished nursing. She studied him from her perch in the doorway between the main room and the kitchen.
The Herald wasn’t Reneth, but all Heralds were supposed to help, weren’t they?
The Watchmen waved him in, and the three began conversing in low tones. She straightened her shoulders and stepped into the room, fighting the urge to run.
Conversation stopped, filling the room with awkward silence. Liana swallowed, trying to moisten her suddenly dry mouth. Then she raised her chin and took a deep breath. Beating or not, she had to find her boy.
“My son you are finding?” she demanded.
The Herald gave her a nod, his short blond hair glistening in the firelight. “You are the mother of the missing boy?” he asked in almost flawless Karsite.
He must have noted her bewilderment. “Our Weaponsmaster is from Karse. He taught me your language, all the while threatening to beat me to a pulp if I didn’t learn it perfectly.” The Herald’s blue eyes twinkled, then grew serious. “I am Herald Nikko.”
“We have ta go find him,” Liana said to Nikko. “Now.”
A vacant look crossed Herald Nikko’s face, then he nodded. “Rufina, my Companion, agrees.”
“A’course she agrees!” Liana said with a scowl. “Companions be smart where babes is concerned.”
Danelle stalked into the room and held out bundle of dry diapers. “Just in case.”
Liana handed Belani to the woman, nodded her thanks, and awkwardly tucked the diapers into her waistband. “An eye on the little one, will ye keep?”
“Of course.” Danelle glared at the Herald, then the Watchmen. “Take care of her. Take care of them all.”
Liana pressed a hand against the reassuring presence of the knife at her waist and headed out the door.
Once outside, she led the way back toward the meadow. There had to be something there, a clue of some sort she had missed. She would not miss it this time.
A shadow moved into the street behind them. Liana’s heart leaped into her throat, then settled back where it belonged when she recognized Jedren.
“I’m comin’,” Jedren, the oldest of six Tedrel orphans who’d been placed with Danelle, said. The boy looked like he’d been stuck on the rack and stretched until the top of his head almost reached Liana’s shoulder. Skinny as a stork, he moved like a smaller bird, darting here and dashing there. His carrot-red hair was as stubborn as Liana’s, refusing to be tamed, and the number of freckles on his face matched his curiosity—that boy was curious about everything.
The smaller Watchman shook his head. “We don’t need—”
Jedren held up his hand. “Heard from Luka, who heard from Cliffer, who heard from someone so high up the ranks no one down here knows ’is name, that more’n one babe’s gone missin’.”
More’n one?
Looks like Haven ain’t as grand as folks claim. Liana felt a wave of guilt at the thought.
Herald Nikko’s face grew dark. He drew the Watchmen to one side and spoke to them in a low voice.
Why weren’t they moving? Why were they staying so calm? Wasn’t anyone worried about the babes? This news should make them move faster, not stop and chat.
Liana bit her thumbnail for a moment, then turned and walked away. She kept her steps quiet so she didn’t attract the men’s attention, not because she didn’t want their help but because she was afraid they might try to stop her.
And no one was going to stop her.
Panic had turned to determination, a feeling she could handle. In the Tedrel camp she had been determined to survive.
Now she was just as determined to find her son.
Jedren stalked beside her, his freckled face wrinkled in a dark scowl.
“Why?” she asked him, keeping her voice low and their conversation in Karse.
“Why what?”
“Why are you coming with me? He is not your child.”
“They’re not just taking your babe. Whoever is doing this is taking others. Why wouldn’t I want to help put a stop to something like that?” He looked away, seeming uncomfortable. “’Sides, I like baby Reneth. He deserves to be safe. All the babes deserve to be safe.”
He didn’t need to add, “Just as the rest of us are now safe.”
Safe.
Jedren had been rescued by the Heralds just as she had been. Did he actually feel safe?
Liana picked up her pace. She thought she’d felt safe, but today showed her just how shallow that feeling had been. Constant beatings while enslaved by the Tedrel mercenaries and other . . . abuses . . . had drained her of the ability to believe in anything, leaving behind only the husk of a girl who had once dared to dream.
Then a raven had led her to a Companion and his Herald. They had saved her life and those of her twins.
But what did she really know of these people?
A thought seized her mind in vicious jaws, refusing to let go. She stared at Jedren in horror. “What if this Midsummer Eve festivaling is jes’ like our Feast ’o the Children?” she whispered. “What if they took little Reneth ’cause ’e got some kind ’o magic?”
Do they burn the magic ones here?
Liana squeezed her eyes tight against the vision of babes lying alone in a shed, waiting for someone to light them up.
“Cain’t be the magic,” Jedren whispered back. “They’d’ve taken Celia that were so. She been healing since we got ’ere. Danelle said they’d send Celia to Healers’ Collegium once she’s old ’nuf. ’Sides, Luka said the babes was taken from folks down here. ‘Spawn ’o the rabble,’ he called ’em, even though he lives right next door.”
Liana’s panic gave way to growing anger and she picked up the pace again. Spawn ’o the rabble, indeed! “Babes’re babes, no matter the loins they spring from.” Her voice sounded more like a low growl than a whisper, but she kept her voice down. “That’s what Bolan says, and Herald Reneth agrees.”
She hadn’t agreed with them, not at first.
Her twins had been sired by a man so violent, so monstrous, she had been certain the babe growing in her womb would be born a two-headed monster.
But Bolan had shown her otherwise, allowing her to feel the babe’s innocent spark.
And the other spark—just as innocent—growing alongside the first.
Jedren’s scowl deepened, wrinkling his nose so the freckles sat side by side, forming a solid mask beneath his eyes. “I been wondering—why’d only the boy get taken?”
He studied her curiously as another nightmare vision plunged her into darkness—the Tedrel mercenaries had forced young boys into “Boy’s Bands” to train them up “proper.” She’d witnessed firsthand the misery those boys were put through—near starvation, beatings, forced to steal, and punished if they were caught.
Some died from wounds suffered during training with real blades; others died from broken spirits.
Those who made it through training became monsters.
Just like Grunt.
“Do ye know if the folks what lives in Haven take boys fer . . .” She had to force the next words out. “Fer trainin’?”
Jedren’s face went so pale she was afraid he’d keel over. “Never thought on that one,” he said with a gulp. “Some of us orphans got took fer trainin’ soon as we got ’ere—”
“The training here in Haven is nothing like the so-called training in the Tedrel camps.”
Liana’s heart jumped back into her throat. She spun on her heel, hand going to the knife in her waistband. Jedren spun with her, his face as startled as hers.
Herald Nikko stopped, hands in the air as if trying to convince them he was harmless. “My apologies. I did not intend to startle you.”
At least the Herald remembered to speak in Karsite. Liana dropped her hands and resumed walking, picking up the pace. “Took you long enough.”
The Herald nodded. “I needed to confirm the boy’s statement. There are, indeed, other babes that have gone missing. Some last evening, some—like your babe—only this morning. The two Watchmen say the entire Watch is befuddled. The Heralds have been notified and—”
The sound of feathers slicing through the air halted Liana midstep. She held up a hand to quiet the Herald and scanned the skyline as a raven croaked close by.
Afternoon sun glinted off tiles as she scanned the nearby rooftops and doorways, finally spotting the feathered culprit perched atop a stone lintel.
“What be ye after?” she asked the raven, unable to keep the frustration from her voice. Not frustration at the raven—at the delay.
For as long as she could remember, animals had been Liana’s true friends. She held a memory of her younger self, laughing and playing with only the forest animals as her friends. She never got lost. Never was scared.
A raven had led her to Bolan and helped her escape the Tedrels—
She almost choked at the sight of something dangling from the raven’s beak. Afraid to breathe lest the object turn out to be something other than what she suspected, Liana held out her arm.
The raven dropped from the lintel, swooping onto her arm.
Then it dropped a blue bootie into her other hand.
Liana turned the bootie—Reneth’s bootie—over in her hand.
“What is that?” Herald Nikko asked.
“Is that—” Jedren started.
The raven launched into the air with a cry that sounded more like someone dragging a sword over rough stone than something uttered by a bird. Liana hurried after the bird, forsaking all thoughts except one.
The raven had found her son.
Black wings took to the sky, and Liana took off at a run, not looking back to see if either Jedren or the Herald followed. The raven led her past houses and down twisting roads, around corners and through streets that stank of piss and rotting food, the streets shrinking in on themselves until she found herself in a dark alley.
Liana tried to calm her racing heart and catch her breath. The Herald stopped close behind her, Jedren not far behind.
“What is it?” Herald Nikko asked. Liana took absurd pleasure in hearing the Herald was slightly out of breath.
She held up the blue bootie. “Reneth’s.”
“You believe the raven’s found the babe, then?”
The answer died on her lips. Had Reneth been found? Or was the bootie simply a clue?
A shush of wings and the raven landed on her right arm. Liana’s belly clenched as a sense of danger flooded through her. She froze at the sound of boots on stone.
Not the steps of a drunkard stumbling home or—
Herald Nikko’s hand fell on her shoulder and gently guided her back several steps into a shadowed doorway.
She didn’t want to hide in a doorway. She wanted—no, needed—to follow that clue. Find where the bootie had come from.
Get her son back.
“We need to see who comes and where they go,” the Herald whispered. “Then we can form a plan.”
He was right. She knew he was right. But little Reneth was out there somewhere . . . The yearning to hold her son grew so strong, Liana’s legs threatened to dump her on the ground. She sank to her heels, raven shifting restlessly on her arm, and blinked hard against the tears threatening to spill from her eyes.
The sound of footsteps resolved into two distinct sounds—one much heavier than the other.
Liana almost leaped out of her skin as two men entered the alley. One of the men wore an ugly, scarred face all too familiar to her.
Grunt.
Talons tightened on her arm as Liana willed herself not to move. She bit her lip, choking back the scream demanding to be released. The coppery taste of blood added to the roiling mess of fear, loathing, and despair churning in her belly. She drew in a shaky breath.
It’s only a nightmare. Not real. Can’t be real—
Liana didn’t recognize the man following the Tedrel mercenary. The man put a hand on Grunt’s arm and mumbled something she couldn’t hear.
Grunt seized the other man by the tunic and slammed him against the wall.
“What d’ya mean ya only got one?”
“I were feared she’d see me, see. And the babes were fussing somethin’ fierce.”
Grunt spat in disgust and stomped to the end of the alley, stopping in front of a battered door. She leaned forward in time to see light spread across the alley as a door opened—
And the sharp cries of babies echoed off the walls.
The color drained from Liana’s face as the door closed, leaving the alley empty. She sprang to her feet, overcome by the need to rush in and snatch her son from Grunt’s monstrous grip, a grip she knew all too well.
The raven launched itself awkwardly from her arm, scolding her softly as it rose to the rooftop across the alley. Before she could take a step, Herald Nikko took hold of her arm.
“It’s the ogre—the monster what kept me a slave,” she hissed, baring her teeth as if to bite the hand that kept her from going to her son.
“The mercenary?” The Herald’s face went dark. “One of the Tedrels?”
Liana glared at him. “The very same.”
The cries she’d heard when the door opened echoed in her mind. With Grunt in charge—if the monster . . . the ogre . . . was in charge—the babes would have been fed only enough to keep them alive. No one in Grunt’s company would care if the babes were changed or soothed.
Anger burned deep in her belly. She tried to tug her arm free of the Herald’s grip, but Nikko refused to let her go. His face had the distant look that meant he was communicating with his Companion.
They needed to do something, though Liana didn’t know whether to charge in or toss up what little remained in her stomach from breakfast.
“Hold tight a moment,” the Herald said. “Rufina?”
The back of the alley filled with a graceful white figure that glowed in the sunlight. Liana caught her breath.
“Is that a—” Jedren started.
“My Companion.” The Herald nodded. “I’ll introduce you later.”
His face went distant again, then he blinked. “Rufina says there’s a door that opens on the next alley over. She set someone to watch both that alley and door and summoned more help.”
Liana started toward the door, but the Herald shook his head.
“You two stay here. Give a shout if anyone slips out.”
He strode down the alley to the door, his step light though purposeful. He rapped twice, waited a moment, and rapped again.
The door opened a crack.
The Herald lashed out with his foot, smashing the door back on its hinge. Someone shouted. A hand showed where the door had been. Herald Nikko blocked the hand with his arm and disappeared inside. Voices raised in angry protest as something crashed to the floor.
Liana raced down the alley, Jedren close on her heels. She slipped through the splinters of jagged wood that used to be a door. The room inside was lit with lanterns on every wall.
There was no one in sight. The Herald had disappeared through another door and the sounds of fighting came from a room deeper within the building.
Liana tore through the room, peering into alcoves and cupboards, frantically searching for her son.
She almost missed him.
He’d been tucked into a pile of blankets in one of the alcoves. She pulled him free, careful to protect his head and neck.
“Reneth sweet,” Liana cooed. “It’s all right now. Mum’s here.”
Her son didn’t move.
She shook the babe, gently at first, growing more and more frantic when he didn’t respond. “Reneth?”
Forcing herself not to panic, she laid her cheek to his and almost sobbed in relief at the warmth against her skin—
A rough hand grabbed the back of her neck in an all-too familiar grip.
“There ya are, ya little whore!”
Liana released her grip on Reneth before she was lifted off the floor. Agony lit the muscles of her neck and shoulders on fire . . .
And suddenly she was back in the Tedrel camp . . .
Fear struck her so forcefully, she momentarily lost control of her body. Her legs and arms dangled as uselessly as a puppet without strings. Any moment, she might wet herself as thoroughly as her babes—
“Let her be!” Jedren’s young voice—laced with anger and fear—ripped through the air.
There was a sound of a scuffle and the grip on Liana’s neck was gone. She caught herself on one knee as she tumbled to the ground, bruising her elbow when she stopped her momentum just short of rolling into Reneth.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw Jedren fly through the air, slam against the far wall, and crumple to the floor.
Grunt loomed over her, his pig-eyes gleaming. A scar glistened on his forehead and his leering grin exposed a gap in his teeth that hadn’t been there before. “Ya think it was bad before? Now yer gonna find out just what runnin’ away gets ya.”
There was a time when those words would have turned her into a puddle of wet mush, unable to protest, unable to move. If he had stopped there. If he had let those words be his only threat, she would have been his again. Not from any desire to please him. Because she had known no other way.
“Then,” Grunt continued, “I’m takin’ my son and teachin’ him what it means ta be a real man.” His cracked lips widened into the evil grimace that still haunted her nightmares. “And I’m findin’ my daughter and teachin’ her what it means—”
“No!” Liana screamed and launched herself at his face, fingers curled like claws. Despite the difference in heights, she managed to leap high enough to sink the nails of her left hand into his cheek.
Grunt roared and grabbed her by the throat, a move Liana had expected. He liked to choke her nearly unconscious, then claimed he’d “given her back her life” before having his way with her.
He would never have his way with her again.
He would NEVER have his way with her children.
She fumbled her knife clear from her waistband. Stars twinkled at the edges of her vision and she sucked air into her lungs through the crushing grip on her throat. She had to delay the darkness she knew would come next. She squirmed as if trying to wriggle out of his grip.
The monster liked it when she struggled. Liked to gloat over his so-called superior strength.
Grunt pulled her closer, eyes glinting at her pain—
Lightning flashed behind her eyes as Liana swung the knife up—and plunged the blade through the monster’s eye.
Somewhere in the far distance Liana thought she heard a horse scream, then she felt herself falling . . . falling . . . into a bottomless pit of darkness.
A baby’s cry penetrated the darkness, yanking her back into a world filled with confusion. She coughed, the searing pain racking her throat echoed in her left arm and hip. She blinked—
And found herself lying on her side, staring into Grunt’s unblinking eye.
It took a moment before she recognized the knife protruding from his other eye.
Liana rolled to her knees, scuttling away like a frightened bug.
And backed into a pair of legs.
Stifling a scream, she lunged forward and yanked the blade from Grunt’s eye. Growling, she whipped around, blade dripping, and faced her new opponent.
Herald Nikko slowly lifted his hands. “No need for that, m’lady. The evildoers have all been—” He glanced at Grunt’s still form, “disposed of. Your son is safe.”
Liana stared at the Herald, struggling to remember just who he was. Where she was.
Memory swept over her, driving her back to her knees. She dropped the knife and scanned the room until she located a pile of blankets. A sob stuck in her throat as she crawled to the blankets and lifted Reneth’s limp body in her arms. Swallowing a scream, she rocked back and forth on her knees, stroking the tiny cheek, willing his eyes to open.
“He should be fine.” The Herald kept his voice low and quiet, the tone one might use to calm a frantic horse. “Rufina says the babes have been drugged, but only enough to help them sleep.”
Drugged. Not hurt.
Liana drew in a deep breath, battling the urge to cough. She gently laid her son back on the blankets and pulled the bundle of diapers from her waistband. Her nose confirmed her suspicions—he hadn’t been changed.
“I’ll check the others,” Jedren said.
“Rufina’s called for assistance,” Herald Nikko said. “A wise idea, considering you just saved twenty infants.”
“Twenty?” Liana stared at the Herald. “How—”
Herald Nikko raised his hands. “Seems the Tedrels’ goal was to ‘collect’ enough babes to pay for the children ‘stolen’ by Valdemar.”
Liana shuddered. How long had Grunt been in Haven watching her, plotting how to snatch the twins?
“He ain’t gonna bother ye nor the twins again,” Jedren said. “Ye done made certain ’o that.”
Liana nodded.
Then she threw up, turning her head just in time to avoid splattering the babe.
:Good,: a voice said in her head. :I was hoping you’d react that way.:
The only other time she’d had a voice in her head had been in the Waystation with Bolan.
But Bolan wasn’t here—
:Rufina?:
Why was the Companion speaking to her?
:Not Rufina. A friend. Perhaps we’ll meet some day. Just remember—your ogre was indeed a monster. Taking a life should never be easy or pleasurable. Sometimes it is necessary, but it should always make you feel just the way you feel right now. Sick.:
:Who are—?:
:I told you. A friend. Now take care of your son. He needs you.:
And the voice was gone. She could feel the emptiness left behind, a sudden loss that felt as though something had been torn from her.
Reneth started to cry, chasing away the sense of loss and emptiness. Liana gathered her son close, relieved to hear him take a deep breath and bellow his protest at being held so tightly.
“Ye be safe now,” she assured him. “Yer sister’s safe. We all be safe.”
Around her she became aware of other babes waking, some sniffling, some sobbing, some erupting in loud screams.
“Hush now. You’re going home,” someone said to one of the babes.
“Going home,” Liana whispered. She thought of Danelle and the other children. Of Belani—waiting to be fed.
And for the first time since escaping the Tedrel camp, she knew those words were true.