“I’m bringing in a prisoner—”
“We don’t take prisoners.” Dad tenses.
“He’s the courier Rowansmark is searching for. The elders need to decide—”
“Kill him.” Dad barks the command without looking at me and rolls to the balls of his feet as if ready to do the job himself if I hesitate.
I don’t hesitate. Lunging toward my father, I slam my elbow into his temple. He staggers and drops to his knees. His eyes roll to the back of his head, and he falls unconscious to the ground. It’s a temporary reprieve, and I don’t waste it. Snatching Jared’s arm, I propel him away from Dad, though my knees feel suddenly shaky.
I hit my father. The fact that I did so to protect someone else does little to calm the buzz of fear racing through me.
He’ll never forgive me. He’ll punish me, or if he can’t get to me, he’ll punish Willow. My plan has to work. If it doesn’t, the echoes of what I’ve just done will haunt me for the rest of my life.
It isn’t until I’m forcing Jared to climb up to the walkway that will lead us into the village that I realize I’ve left the book of poems lying in the cradle of the cypress.
Chapter Eight
We reach the council building just as the sun begins to fall behind the western edge of the forest. Already, we’ve attracted a crowd. Jared walks in front of me. I keep my knife aimed at his back while my mind races. The elders will hear about the stranger in our midst any moment now and will converge upon the building.
Dad won’t be far behind them once he wakes up, and he’ll be furious.
“Stop here.” I point toward the council door with its tiny windows and smooth planes of blueberry-stained maple planks. Two large barrels, as tall as my waist, stand sentry on either side of the door. In spring, summer, and fall, the barrels are overflowing with flowers, but now there’s nothing but dried-up husks wilting against the dirt inside the planters.
“Keep your back to the door. You’ll want to be able to see anyone who’s coming for you.”
Jared raises a brow. “Like the man who tried to stop us on the way into the village?”
“Yes.” I study Jared for a second. He stands loose and ready with the confidence of a man who’s spent years training himself for a fight.
It won’t be enough to save him from my father, but I’ll be here. I won’t let anything happen to Jared, the man who chose to trust me. The echoes I leave behind with him won’t come back to haunt me in my nightmares.
“Quinn Runningbrook, what is this?” Elder Toilspun arrives first, his lined face folded in on itself like a piece of crumpled paper. His dark eyes are shrewd as he looks from me to Jared. Behind him, I see three more elders hurrying toward us. The crowd of village dwellers parts to let them through.
Four elders out of seven. Enough to make a decision on Jared’s fate. Enough to make a decision about Dad, too.
My palms are suddenly slick with sweat as the weight of what I’m doing hits me. If the elders don’t help me, then my entire plan will crumble, and I’ll be left trapped in a life that I can no longer stand to lead.
I wait in respectful silence for the other three elders to reach us, and then I say, “I was scouting to the south when I encountered this man. His name is Jared Adams, he’s a courier from Baalboden, and he was unintentionally trespassing too close to our village.”
The elders exchange confused glances. In all the years that our family has been in charge of the village’s protection, they’ve never once had to deal with a trespasser. At least not while that trespasser was still alive.
“But why did you bring him here?” Elder Toilspun asks.
“Because it has come to my attention that this man has been accused of stealing something from Rowansmark. My father and Willow cleared out a group of bounty hunters who were looking for him. Jared tells me he’s been wrongly accused, but that’s something for the elders to decide. If you feel he is innocent, he will need an escort out of the forest to stay safe from the bounty hunters. If he is found guilty, we can take him back to Rowansmark and claim the reward for our village.”
Beside me, Jared stiffens, and I wonder if he’s questioning his decision not to fight me for his freedom.
All I can do is pray that my plan works. That Dad, furious at my disobedience and eager to benefit from what Jared Adams took from Rowansmark, will forget to fake respect for the council’s wishes. That the council, faced with the truth of Dad’s violent rage toward a prisoner, in direct violation of the council’s wishes, will be forced to put him in the jail cell instead of Jared.
That Willow and I will finally be free.
“This is a very unusual situation,” Elder Saintcrow says. Her white hair flows freely, and the red beads she ties throughout her locks clatter together in the wind.
“We need to meet as a full council to discuss our options, and of course we’ll need to interview the man to hear his side of the story,” Elder Toilspun says.
I take a deep breath and force myself to sound like the answer doesn’t mean anything to me as I ask, “What should I do with the prisoner?”
“We’ll have to put him in the cell—”
“Give him to me.” Dad’s voice rings out, and my knees weaken even as my body tenses, ready for a fight.
We turn to see my father—muscled and scarred—push through the crowd toward us. Villagers scramble to get out of his way. His dark eyes are locked on mine, and the rage inside of me shivers at the expression on his face.
I’ve done it. I’ve defied his direct orders. I’ve attacked him. I’ve pushed him past his breaking point. Now Willow and I just have to survive the consequences.
Elder Saintcrow sounds wary. “This is an unusual circumstance—”
“Anyone who trespasses near the village border is my responsibility.” Dad’s gaze never leaves mine. A red lump rises from his temple. “The council doesn’t need to discuss it any further. Give him to me, and I’ll do what my sad excuse for a son should’ve done in the first place.”
Jared draws in a small breath as if surprised to learn that the man who ordered me to kill him is my father.
“You mean you’ll kill him,” I say quietly. Instantly a hush falls across the crowd as people wait for Dad’s response.
Dad’s shoulders bunch as he steps closer to me. “We don’t take prisoners.”
“That isn’t a council rule,” Elder Toilspun says. Of the four assembled elders, he’s the only one who hasn’t edged away from Dad.
“It’s my rule. A rule my son understands, don’t you, boy?” Dad crosses the remaining yards between us, his leather boots making quiet shush-shush sounds against the walkway.
“Jared Adams doesn’t deserve to die.” I keep my voice expressionless out of habit, but I look Dad in the face, daring him to argue.
His voice is lethal. “You think you’re in charge now? You think you’ve got a better method of running things than I do?”
“Samuel.” Elder Toilspun puts a withered hand on Dad’s arm.
Dad shakes him off without once looking away from me.
“Quinn said the trespassing was unintentional,” Elder Toilspun says. “And this man is wanted by Rowansmark. The council must meet to decide what should be done.”
“I decide what is to be done with trespassers—”
“Are you above the council?” There’s flint in Elder Toilspun’s voice now, and it seems to get through to my father. “Let’s take the prisoner inside and get to the bottom of this.”
“Do you need help?” Jared asks me quietly as the elders motion for Matthias and Sorra, two regular scouts, to bring Jared to the jail cell and stand guard. I follow Jared’s gaze to my father’s face and feel an unfamiliar sense of gratitude swamp me. The elders, confronted with Dad’s disregard for their authority, are doing nothing but running away from him. A quick glance around shows that the rest of the villagers are following suit. Only Jared Adams, a man I barely know, is willing to stand beside me to protect me from my
father’s wrath.
“I’ll be okay.” It’s a lie. I needed to push Dad into becoming truly violent in front of the council. Nothing less would force them to act against him. I failed, and now I have no idea how to break my father’s authority over Willow and me.
Dad watches in furious silence while the elders take Jared inside the council house. As soon as the council door closes, Dad lunges forward and drives his fist into my stomach. I double over, and he wraps an arm around my back and leans down until his face is next to mine.
“That’s just a taste of what’s coming for you. You know better than to defy my orders. To lay your hands on me. You’ve made us a laughingstock.”
My stomach aches, and my lungs refuse to drag enough air into my chest, but still I find the strength to wheeze, “He doesn’t deserve to die. Especially at your hands.”
The arm across my back becomes a vise, and I barely have time to blink before Dad’s fist slams into my face. My instinct is to absorb the blow, keep my eyes down, and act as though submitting to his will is my only priority.
But another instinct, a combination of the skill that helps me win every fight and my newfound desperate bid for freedom, begs me to pivot and take him out at the knees. Crush his larynx as he lands so he can no longer spew his hatred. Break his arms so he can no longer hurt another person.
Something hot boils through my chest, and I clench my fists and drive them into him with all the speed and force I possess. I stare in shock as he stumbles briefly and then rights himself, his face flushed with anger.
I can’t believe I’ve hit my father twice in the last hour.
I want to do it again. The need to finish what I’ve started is a physical ache pounding through me, but I hold myself back. Not giving in to the violence inside of me is the thin thread that separates me from becoming just like him.
“Think you can take me, boy?” he asks, a dark promise in his voice.
I meet his gaze. “We both know I can.”
“Let’s see you prove it.”
The walkway is nearly empty now as people, terrified to be so close to my father when he’s this angry, have fled into the surrounding buildings. I wipe blood from a cut on my cheek and realize that maybe I don’t need the council’s help. Maybe all it takes is finding the courage to speak my own truth and stand by it. “I’m done proving things to you.”
“Is that a fact?” His voice grows ugly with the kind of viciousness he only aims at those he plans to kill.
I straighten my shoulders and look him in the eye. “Yes. I’m finished doing the wrong thing because I’m too afraid of you to say no. Jared Adams is a good man. He doesn’t deserve to die, and I’m going to make sure he lives. If you want to kill him, you’re going to have to go through me to do it.”
Dad smiles, long and slow. “You’re going to be begging to take back those words before this night is over, boy.” He glances at the council house, where Elder Saintcrow watches us from a window and then turns on his heel and walks away.
I stay at the council building, just outside the door, for hours. Waiting. Someone brings food for the elders. Someone else brings water. Voices drift out of the building, but I can’t make out the words. The sky is a deep, dark blue lit by the scattered stars and the moon that shines directly overhead.
I haven’t seen Willow. I hope she isn’t paying for my choices. I haven’t seen Dad, either, but I will. He’ll be coming for Jared, and for me.
I’m going to stop him.
Pulling my jacket close to ward off the frigid night air, I consider my options. I can incapacitate him briefly and give me time to get Willow and Jared out of the village, but I don’t know if Willow wants to leave, and if the council isn’t finished with Jared, that won’t work. I can get the elders’ attention and hope they make the decision to put Dad in jail instead of Jared.
Or I can kill him.
He deserves it. I know he does. But so do I. I’ve done terrible things in the name of obeying my father. I told myself it was my duty. That I had no choice.
Now I realize that I’ve had a choice for a while. Ever since I was strong enough to overcome Dad in a fight. I can’t change the past, but I can take control of my future.
I won’t kill him, but I will stop him.
I tense as I hear a faint slide of boot against wood. He’s here. He’s come to make me pay for my disobedience. To kill Jared Adams once he’s finished making an example out of me.
I draw in a breath and roll to the balls of my feet, my limbs loose and ready for the confrontation, and then I stare in shock as Willow steps in front of me, her knife in her hands.
Chapter Nine
“Willow! You got away from Dad.” I uncurl my fists and step forward.
“Stay where you are.” Her voice is cold and clear.
I frown. “Or what, you’ll use that knife on me?”
“Just stay where you are, Quinn.” She moves toward the front door. “I have to do this.”
“Do what?” I move to block her, and she whirls to face me, her eyes flashing.
“What I came here to do.” Her eyes are fierce, and suddenly I know—Dad didn’t come to kill Jared. He sent Willow instead. What better way to punish me than to force the sister I’m trying to save to ruin the innocent man I’ve promised to protect?
“You aren’t going in there,” I say quietly.
“Yes, I am.” Her eyes are desperate.
I grab her arm before she can go past me. “Willow, stop. Jared is innocent—”
“I don’t care about Jared. I care about you.” She lifts her chin. “You made a choice between obeying Dad or sparing a man’s life. Now I get to make a choice between torturing that man to death or watching Dad take yours.” Her lips tremble in the moonlight before she thins them into a stubborn line.
“There are other choices.”
“Not when it means I could lose you.” She tries to shake my grip, but I move with her, keeping myself between her and the door.
“What if we both decided not to obey Dad anymore? What if we both just walked away from all of this?”
For a long moment, she stares at me, and I think I’ve got her, but then she whispers, “He has my bow and arrows. On the western walkway. If I don’t kill the prisoner and make it truly awful, Dad will, and then he’ll put an arrow in your gut and let you bleed out slowly while he tears your body apart. The life of a stranger isn’t worth that, Quinn. Nothing you say will convince me otherwise.”
Before I can answer her, the council door opens. Elder Toilspun leads Jared onto the walkway. For a second, Jared’s body is silhouetted by the lamplight from inside the building. I hear the faint twang of an arrow leaving its bow.
Jared is about to die.
I dive in front of him before the thought can finish forming and brace myself for the pain of an arrow tip ripping into my body. If I sacrifice myself to save another, will that erase all the harm I’ve done?
“No!” Willow leaps forward, grunts, and crumples to the walkway, an arrow sticking out of her side.
“Willow!” I drop to my knees beside her. Jared throws himself down next to me as another arrow buries itself in the door frame of the council building. Quickly, I grab one of the flower barrels beside the door and shove it in front of us to spoil Dad’s aim.
“Gently.” Jared looks at Willow, and then snaps at Elder Toilspun, “Get me clean rags, a bucket of hot water, and whatever plant you use to disinfect a wound.”
Panic races through me, and my hands shake too much to pull out the arrow without widening the wound.
“Let me,” Jared says.
“You should get inside. He might try to shoot you again,” I say.
“Focus on the girl.” Jared nods toward Willow. She’s bleeding; a puddle is forming on the walkway beneath her. My heart is pounding, and my throat is tight.
Willow is all I have. I was supposed to save her, but instead, she saved me. I have to keep her alive. Losing my sister would do the one thin
g Dad hasn’t yet managed to do—destroy me.
Several elders hurry out of the building, thrusting rags our way. Matthias has been sent for disinfectant and hot water, but we don’t wait. I press the rags around the arrow’s tip while Jared gently pulls it out. Willow screams once, and then clamps her jaw shut and moans in pain. Blood bubbles up, and I push the rags against the wound while I pray that the arrow didn’t hit anything vital, didn’t go too deep.
“Get out of my way!” Dad’s voice booms through the night.
I don’t turn around, but Jared lunges to his feet.
“Did you do this?” Jared doesn’t raise his voice, but there’s power inside of it. Power and anger. “Did you shoot this girl?”
“I shot at you, you worthless piece of trash. My children were stupid enough to try to save you.”
The shaking in my fingers creeps up my arms and settles in my chest.
“You shot at me while your children were in danger of being hit?” Jared’s voice rises.
“Raised them better than to risk their lives for a stranger, but the boy is a soft-spined fool, and the girl was stupid enough to protect her brother.” Dad’s voice is filled with contempt.
Something hot and feral unfurls in my stomach as Dad approaches us.
“Get away from her,” Dad says.
Keeping my hands pressed against Willow’s wound, I slowly raise my eyes to meet my father’s. “No.”
“You listen, boy, and you listen good. This is your one chance. You get away from her and you take care of the threat the way I taught you, or the next weapon I use will be on you.”
“Quinn—” Willow whispers, her hand reaching for my wrist.
“You try to use a weapon on your son, and you’ll be dealing with me,” Jared says.
Quicker than water, Dad leaps forward, across Willow, his knives in his hands as he dives for Jared’s knees.
I slam into him and send him sprawling in front of Elder Toilspun.
“Help Willow,” I say to Jared as Dad flips to his feet and turns on me with a snarl.