Rone’s face darkened. “I told you we’d find another way.”
“He’s going to kill us all, body and soul.”
“He’ll be coming for us, with more of his clanmen.” Rone gently lifted Ilyenna’s head and upper body until she was sitting on the ground. “Can you run?”
She surveyed herself. Her ankle throbbed dully. “I think so.”
He stood, then grabbed her under her arms and heaved. Once on her feet, she collapsed against him, her legs as weak as a newborn lamb’s. Her ankle stung when she put weight on it. Already she could feel her boot digging into the swelling skin. But after a few wobbly steps, her muscles seemed to remember what they were for.
Rone watched her until she steadied. “We have to put as much distance between ourselves and Darrien as we can before the dogs catch our scent. It’s one of the only hopes we’ll have of losing them.”
Limping, Ilyenna followed him. “One of the only?”
Rone grunted. “Oh, there’s lots of ways. None a sure thing.”
With that, they started running. They followed the river, neither speaking. Trying to ignore her throbbing ankle, Ilyenna listened for the baying of dogs.
As streaks of morning light strangled the last of the stars, Rone stopped and said between gasps, “That’ll have to do. They’ll have horses. From now on, we’ll have to outsmart them.” He pointed across the river. “It’s rocky and shallow here. Run across. Touch things, leave your scent. Run until you find a barren place—somewhere that would hide tracks. Then double back. Step in your own footprints or on a rock. Don’t leave any backtracks. When you return to the river, wait for me. Understand?”
She nodded. Rone turned and disappeared inside the trees, leaving Ilyenna alone. It was terrifying.
Squaring her shoulders, she forced herself to do as Rone asked. She stepped into the trees and crossed the river, then kept walking. She kept her arms out, touching things and hoping she’d find a rocky place soon. Every moment she spent searching gave time to Darrien and his pursuit. Finally, she found a rocky knoll. But she didn’t relax. She still had to find her way back to the river, and she was no woodsman.
She tried to keep to the rocks or step in her own footprints. It was time consuming and difficult. Day deepened, bringing with it heat and insects. Sweat ran into her eyes, while midges feasted on her blood. Ilyenna nearly cried out in relief when she heard the river.
She stumbled out of the trees and looked about. Rone was nowhere in sight. What if Darrien found him? Other unwelcome thoughts assaulted her. Determinedly pushing them away, she examined her ankle. It was worse from all the running, swollen tight inside her boot. She ate some wild rhubarb, swallowing the sour stuff as quickly as she could.
Something white caught her eye. A patch of snow. She suddenly remembered the winter fairies. Were they coming back for her? She stepped toward the snow, but instead of frozen granules, her fingers brushed the soft petals of a small cluster of white flowers. Her breath coming fast, she shook herself.
The winter fairies are gone, she reminded herself.
She looked around for Jablana or the others. There was no sign of them, and still no sign of Rone. Ilyenna sighed. Her skin itched where the midges had bitten her. She listened, but all she could hear was the river.
She smelled of sweat and fear. With nothing better to do, she stripped off her clothing and scrubbed it clean. After laying it out over a bush, she scoured herself with a patch of soapwort and sand.
The water should have been cold, but it felt oddly warm. Not daring to wade any deeper than her knees, she lay down, letting the current take the rest of the sand from her hair. But she’d never liked this much water—more so after last night. She burst up, water running in rivulets down her skin, and froze.
Rone stood at the edge of the river, his eyes burning bright and his chest rising and falling hard. He took a long, ragged breath. “We have to hurry,” he said.
Feeling shy under his penetrating gaze, she kept her head down as she walked past him. Just before she drew even with him, he reached out, the backs of his fingers moving down the curve of her hip. He pinched his eyes shut as if in pain. “You’re beautiful.” He said it with a regret and finality that sent an inexplicable sadness through her veins. He gently pushed her away. “Hurry.”
She shivered as a feeling of loneliness overtook her. Quickly, she tugged her damp clothes over her head. Rone led her downstream. “We’re downwind of the trail I created,” he said. “I’m hoping the dogs will get confused and lose our spoor. We need to put some distance between our false trail and our real one to ensure they don’t find it.”
Then they were running again.
Rone glanced up and down the road before he and Ilyenna cautiously moved out of the forest. Her arm was around his shoulders for support. They’d been traveling through forest thick as winter wool all day and long into the night.
She had gone beyond exhaustion and hunger into a kind of numb acceptance. Her ankle could barely take any weight now. “We shouldn’t be out in the open like this. Morning is coming.”
“We can’t stay in the forest. We have to find food and a horse or we won’t make it another day.” Rone looked around. “I’ve been on this road before. We’re somewhere between Tyranholm and Kebholm. If we haven’t already crossed the border between the two, we will soon.”
He pointed to a lone house and barn alongside the road. “See? Food and a horse. Come on.” His grip firm on her waist, he pulled her forward.
From the house, a dog started barking. They slipped in the barn and stood in the darkness, waiting for their eyes to adjust. The barn was like any other, smelling of damp animal hair, manure, urine, and moldering hay. Ilyenna heard the heavy breathing of a cow or a horse, and the sounds of numerous small hooves and warm bodies. Goats. Her mouth watered at the thought of fresh milk.
Rone ducked out from under her arm and started down the center of the animal pens. “You watch the house,” Rone said. “I’ll get the horse.”
Ilyenna’s heart sank when she hobbled past the stall. The animal might’ve been a sturdy plow horse a few years ago, but he was old now, his skin hanging from sharp hips. A still-full winter coat hinted of belly worms, which she would have treated with wormwood. She limped to the barn door and peered out. The dog was still barking, but the house was quiet.
Behind her, Rone searched the barn. “There isn’t a saddle.”
Ilyenna hadn’t really expected one for a draft horse. She glanced back to see Rone ease a bit into the horse’s mouth. The animal tiredly started chewing the cold metal.
“He won’t carry us far or fast,” she said worriedly.
Rone led the horse out. “We’ll find something better at a roadside inn.”
Ilyenna cringed. Darrien wouldn’t need hounds. All he’d have to do was follow their thievery.
Movement caught her eye—someone was outside. Moonlight glinted off an axe blade. With a sharp intake of breath, Ilyenna backed away from the door. “Someone’s coming.”
In two steps, Rone reached her and threw her belly-first over the horse. Grabbing a handful of mane, she pulled her leg over to straddle his broad back. Rone pulled the door open wide. A young man stood defensively in front of the house, his shield like a barrier between them and the front door. Rone and the man sized each other up, but Rone didn’t have a weapon.
Ilyenna thought she saw a flutter of movement at the window. The man’s wife? His children? Ilyenna didn’t want to do this. “Our need is great,” she called, hoping to calm the man.
He shifted behind his shield. “You could’ve asked.”
“You wouldn’t have given us the horse,” she replied.
The man’s eyes widened. “You’re the tiams.”
Ilyenna and Rone exchanged tight glances. So Darrien had already spread the word.
Rone called out, “I’ll do what I can to get the horse back to you.”
The man’s gaze shifted between them. “Most Kebs don’
t agree with what the Tyrans have done, but our clan chief has ordered us to hand you over anyway.”
Rone backed toward Ilyenna. “Is that a warning or a threat?”
The man dropped his axe and shield to his side. “They’ve set traps on all the roads. If you go that way, you’ll be captured.”
Ilyenna looked at Rone. What could they do now? she wondered.
The man looked back at the house. “If you go back to the forest, you could skirt him.”
Rone slowly shook his head. “She’s hurt. She can’t go much farther on foot.”
She opened her mouth to argue then shut it again. He was right. Without a horse to carry her, she wouldn’t make it another mile. And a horse was too big to move through tangled forest. Plus they had no food and nothing to hunt with, let alone protect themselves.
The Keb looked back at Ilyenna. “How bad is it?”
“A turned ankle,” she said.
“We need food,” Rone added.
The man looked at his house and back at them. “You can spend the day here. Just the day. Then you have to be off.”
“How do I know you won’t run to the Tyrans?” Rone asked tensely.
The Keb glanced pointedly at Ilyenna. “Seems to me, you don’t have a choice. But if nothing else, know that living on the Tyran border hasn’t made me their friend.” The Keb slowly moved forward and handed his axe to Rone. “And if I was going to run to the Tyrans, I wouldn’t give you this. I am Zezrom of the Kebs.”
Rone’s fingers closed around the axe hilt. “I’ll never be parted with an axe again.”
Ilyenna’s breath caught in her throat. Rone’s words could only mean one thing. He wouldn’t be taken prisoner ever again—he’d die first. Well, she wouldn’t be taken either. She’d learned there were things worse than death. Much worse.
Zezrom nodded as if he understood all too well. “Go back into the barn and don’t come out again.” He glanced up at Ilyenna. “You can sleep in the hay pen.”
Rone backed toward her and helped her off the horse. She stood, her knee cocked so her foot was off the ground. “Can we really trust him?”
Rone put the horse back in his stall. “We don’t have a choice.”
Bracing herself against the corrals, Ilyenna hopped toward a pen, which held a scattering of hay left over from winter. She opened the gate and hobbled inside then eased herself down with a groan of exhaustion. The hay smelled like dry mold and it poked her through her clothing, but it cushioned her from the hard ground. For that she was grateful.
Moments later, a woman came from the house, her hair wrapped in a cloth. In her hands, she had a bucket of cold water. “I’m Zezrom’s wife, Mally. Drink as much as you need, and then put your foot inside.”
Ilyenna obeyed. Mally gave them some cheese, plus bread spread thickly with butter and topped with meat that tasted of damp cellar. Ilyenna and Rone wolfed down the food. After the woman left, Ilyenna lay back, her foot propped in the bucket.
“What do we do next?”
Rone looked at her for a few moments. “We’ll be harder to track and move faster if we find a couple of horses.”
“Move faster to where?”
“To Gen of the Riesen.”
Ilyenna had to admit the plan made sense. Their own clans were in no position to help them, but Gen could offer shelter and hiding until the spring feast. “If Darrien guesses we’re headed to Riesenholm,” she said, “he’ll have more traps waiting for us.”
Rone nodded slowly. “After he spreads word through Keb about two escaped tiams, yes.”
“Even if we do reach the Council, will they allow us an audience?” Ilyenna asked, but he didn’t answer. She knew the Council didn’t lean towards mercy when it came to escaped tiams. They didn’t like to appear weak. “They don’t know why Undon faked an attack on his clan.”
“Oh, they were attacked all right.”
She cringed. “But not by you?”
“Of course not.”
Ashamed for even thinking such a thing, she looked away. “Who then?”
“My guess” —Rone paused and took a deep breath— “my guess is they did it themselves.”
Her hand flew to her mouth. “They killed their own clanmen?” Ilyenna whispered between her fingers.
“And women and children.”
A wave of nausea washed over her. “By the Balance! Why?”
“Follow the events. Undon staged an attack on his clan, which gave him an excuse to attack the Argons. He knew the Shyle would come to our aid. So he must have planned on attacking them as well. Then foreigners appear at his clan house in the middle of the night. Where does that lead you?”
“He’s in league with the foreigners.”
“And what foreigners have been our enemies since before our grandparents’ grandparents’ time?”
“The Raiders.”
Rone closed his eyes for a moment, then said, “The Raiders.”
“But I don’t understand why he attacked our clans and not someone else’s.”
“The Raiders have attacked the clans by sea many times. They’ve failed in every attempt. But what if they circled around the mountains and came down Shyle Pass? And what if the Shyle and the Argons were in no shape to hold the passes or spread the alarm?”
Ilyenna swallowed hard. “They’d cut the clan lands nearly in half and have a firm foothold from the highly defensible mountains.”
“And if they attacked from the mountains and the seas, it would be like putting the clan lands between a hammer and anvil.” Rone stroked his jaw. “But all this is just a guess, and there are flaws in my theory. An alliance with the Raiders doesn’t mesh with Darrien’s pursuit of you. A marriage would give him claim to the Shyle. But if he’s in league with the Raiders, why bother? Nor do I understand his cruelty. It’s like he both desires and detests you.”
“I know why he hates me.” She looked away, unable to meet Rone’s gaze. “I killed Hammoth.”
Rone’s mouth fell open. “You what?”
She couldn’t repeat it.
He sank down next to Ilyenna. “Then why didn’t Darrien kill you?”
He did, she thought. She kept her face averted so Rone wouldn’t see the truth.
After a moment, he lay down beside her and pulled her head onto his shoulder. “It’s all right. We’ll figure this out together.”
Feeling safe for the first time in ages, she fell asleep quickly. She vaguely remembered the woman switching out the bucket of lukewarm water with cold river water throughout the day. Eventually, Ilyenna woke to a steaming bowl of thick stew beside her. She picked it up and ate it so quickly she burned her tongue.
When she finished, she lifted her foot out of the bucket. The skin on her ankle was dark purple and stretched tight. It would take days, perhaps even weeks, to fully heal.
Rone must have heard her stirring. He came in with a leather bag. “We have a few hours until full dark. Do you want to go back to sleep until it’s time to leave?”
“No. I don’t think I could sleep.” She tried to smile.
He sat next to her and handed her strips of rags, and a bunch of slightly wilted mountain daisies. “Mally said these help with swelling.”
Ilyenna shredded the daisies, then used the rags to wrap her ankle, with the daisies between her skin and the bindings. “Where are they?”
One by one, Rone showed her the supplies—flint and striker, a dagger, a wheel of cheese, dried strips of meat, travel bread, blankets, potatoes. Zezrom and Mally had given them enough to last a week if they were careful. “Zezrom went to scout ahead. Mally took the children and left. She doesn’t want them here if the Tyrans show up.”
Ilyenna shivered. “That’s wise of her.”
She inspected her wrapping. Satisfied, she rubbed her sore, stiff muscles. “You’d be better off without me. I’m slowing you down.”
Rone took her hand. “We’re together on this, Ilyenna. I won’t leave you.”
Together? Ilyenn
a looked into his eyes. Did she really hear tenderness in his voice? Her blood surged hot through her. Then she remembered Darrien, his roving hands and wet mouth. Why couldn’t it have been Rone? Tears sprang to her eyes.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
Shaking her head, she glanced away. He squeezed her hand. “Tell me?”
She sighed. Chances were she and Rone would be dead in a few hours. If not, a worse fate awaited her. If she didn’t tell him now, she might never have the chance. “The first kiss I ever had to give was taken from me . . . by Darrien. I—I can’t bear to think he’ll take more.” She saw Rone stiffen and forced herself to meet his furious gaze. Softly, she said, “I wish it had been you.”
His eyes widened, and Ilyenna wanted to suck the words back into her mouth. Humiliated, she pushed herself to her knees. Rone shot up and locked his arms around her but said nothing.
“I know you’ve always thought of me as your little sister, but I’m not, Rone, I—”
At the look on his face, the words died in her throat. She was suddenly aware that he held her in his arms. Both of them were on their knees, their bodies only a few inches apart. He’d made no effort to move away. “Ilyenna, I haven’t thought of you as a little sister for a long time. I–I love you.”
She gasped. Unable to help herself, she pressed her fingertips to Rone’s lips as if to feel the words he’d just spoken. Her love for him swelled within her.
He leaned toward her. Trapped in his arms with no desire to escape, Ilyenna felt her lips pound in the rhythm of her heart. She felt his breath against her mouth—she could almost taste him. She leaned into him, and he cradled her head in his hand. His mouth met hers, his lips gentle at first. Then the kiss grew deeper.
Rone pulled back, kissing her eyelids, her cheeks, her nose. He traced her jaw with his lips, then brushed them against her neck and her exposed shoulder. It surprised her that such gentleness could light a fire within her. They kissed again. Ilyenna gripped his shirt in her fists and opened her mouth. Rone responded, pulling her to him until she could feel his heart beating through their clothes. She splayed her fingers over his broad back, exploring his sinewy muscles.