straddled upright, Froi failed, and toppled off the branch, his hand shooting out to grip the branch, leaving his body hanging from just one arm.
‘Froi!’ Gargarin’s voice sounded far away.
‘Stay in the shelter!’ Froi shouted, beads of perspiration on his skin as he tried with all his might to reach the tree with his other hand. That was all he needed. Two firm handholds. He dared not look down, knowing his fall would not be broken, but his body would be. With his arm so weak, Froi couldn’t hold on for much longer. He heard the whistles of arrows as he hung like a well-marked target on a practice range, his body a beacon.
‘Take the horse. Head north!’ he called out, his voice straining.
He could hear shouting in return but he was too high up to understand their response. Had Lirah and Gargarin already been taken? He felt his hand slipping and knew he didn’t want to die this way. Not from a fall. He closed his eyes and summoned the strength to hold on, but Froi was too weak. His body had not yet recovered and he couldn’t save himself. And he prayed, realising while he hung from this tree in the kingdom of his birth, that Sagrami wasn’t just a curse to him, she was his guide as well. Not Trist or any of the gods of Charyn, but Lumatere’s mighty Goddess. He prayed to her with all his might.
A hand suddenly gripped his wrist.
He wondered if the hold came from the realms of the gods. But he didn’t care. All he knew was what the Goddess was whispering to him,
‘I’ve got you, Froi.’
‘Finn?’
Chapter 13
Lucian issued the order more than once as he travelled down the mountain. It was firm and spoken in a tone that was not open to discussion.
‘Go. Home.’
His cousins Constance and Sandrine followed, all the same. Their brothers and fathers had refused to allow them horses, so the girls had resorted to riding on donkeys. Lucian’s peace and quiet on the mountain was all but over.
‘If Tesadora has returned to her work with them, why can’t we?’ Constance shouted back.
‘Because it’s not your work,’ he said. ‘It’s not our duty or our work to take care of them. It’s Charyn’s.’
‘But the valley dwellers are running from Charyn,’ Sandrine argued. ‘So why would we expect that the very kingdom they’re running from will feed them?’
Lucian didn’t have a response for that. He had a response for very little these days, despite the questions that plagued him. And the guilt. He had held a knife to his wife’s throat. His wife who had betrayed him.
What he did know for certain was that there was talk of starvation in the valley and it was his duty, not as a Lumateran but as a man, to see how the valley dwellers were faring. He watched them for a while across the stream. They looked frail, older than the last time he had seen them. Harker was working with Kasabian on the vegetable patch that was yielding very little. Harker’s movements were furious as he hacked at the earth. After all they had done to get to this valley, he had lost a wife and daughter to plague. But had he? If Phaedra was alive, it could mean the others lived, as well. Cora, too. And the other girl whose name he could not remember. He crossed the stream and within moments Constance and Sandrine were hurrying ahead towards Tesadora, who was on the rock face of one of the higher caves. He was about to follow, but stopped at the sight of Rafuel sitting outside one of the lower caves with Donashe and his men.
Weeks before the supposed death of Phaedra and the women, Rafuel had been a prisoner of Lumatere. Circumstances had changed Lucian’s mind about the Charynite and a trust had built between them. Lucian and the Queen’s Guard had agreed to send Rafuel down to the valley as a spy for both Lumatere and for the Charynite Priests Rafuel answered to. Men who were desperate for peace in their kingdom. Within days, Rafuel, taking the name Matteo, had established a place alongside Donashe, the leader of a group of cutthroats who had slaughtered seven unarmed supposed Charynite traitors. Donashe answered to those who had taken control of Charyn’s army, and Lucian knew that the people of the valley feared for their lives. But they had nowhere else to go, and Lucian had no way of getting rid of Donashe and his men without involving Lumatere in a war.
Since Phaedra’s ‘death’ Lucian had no idea who Rafuel was aligned with. All he knew was that Rafuel had been the one to remove the five women from the caves and had lied about Phaedra’s death. What else had he lied about?
Lucian wanted answers. He made his way towards the group, his eyes meeting Rafuel’s the moment the Charynite looked up. Rafuel stood, and as soon as he was close, Lucian’s fist connected with Rafuel’s face. He watched the Charynite’s head snap back as he stumbled to the ground. Suddenly the murderer Donashe was up on his feet, furious.
‘It’s nothing,’ Rafuel said, fighting to regain his breath, wiping blood from his mouth. ‘Leave it, Donashe. These Monts cannot control their emotions.’
‘You are a lying traitor –’
‘Lucian!’ Tesadora shouted and Lucian heard the warning in her voice as she scrambled down the rock steps followed by his cousins and Japhra. ‘This is my fight,’ she said, pulling him away. ‘Japhra is one of my girls.’ Tesadora gripped Lucian’s arm, her fingernails deep in his flesh. She was protecting Rafuel, making it seem as if Lucian’s fury was about Rafuel sharing a bed with a Lumateran girl.
‘Is this about one of their women?’ Donashe asked, laughing. He held a hand out to Rafuel, lifting him to his feet, patting him on the back.
Lucian pointed a finger at Rafuel.
‘I want a word in private.’
‘Perhaps our Matteo is a man much like yourself, friend,’ Donashe said to Lucian. ‘Perhaps he enjoys pounding into women of foreign blood.’
Lucian flew at Donashe and it took Rafuel, Tesadora and Japhra to hold him back. Kasabian rushed towards them, standing between Lucian and the camp leader.
‘We don’t pound into our women like you Charynite rapists!’ Lucian shouted.
‘What are you doing, lad?’ Kasabian asked, trying to push him back. ‘Ignore him, Lucian. Come now.’
Lucian’s blood boiled, and his gaze fixed on Donashe, who had the smarts to look afraid.
‘Call me friend again and I’ll cut out your tongue,’ Lucian threatened before he looked at Rafuel. ‘I said I want a word.’
‘Go with him,’ Donashe said to Rafuel, relishing the control he believed he had in the valley. Lucian gripped Rafuel and pushed him forward as they walked back towards the stream. Rafuel stumbled.
When they were at a distance, Lucian flew at the Charynite again.
‘Lucian!’ Tesadora shouted. ‘What’s got into you?’
‘What’s got into me, Tesadora?’ he seethed. ‘What’s got into you? Choosing that mad-bitch daughter of our enemy over our queen?’
Rafuel closed his eyes, shaking his head. ‘You’ve seen her?’
Lucian’s fist connected again and when Rafuel was down, he pushed the Charynite’s face into the ground. Tesadora and Japhra pulled him away.
‘Colluding with this traitor, Tesadora?’ Lucian asked, staring down at Rafuel.
‘Traitor to whom?’ Rafuel hissed, pushing him. ‘I’m not working for you, Mont. I’m not working for him,’ he added, pointing back to Donashe who was watching. ‘I’m here for my people. I’m a traitor to no one.’
‘Talk,’ Lucian ordered. ‘We don’t have time; so if you have something to hide from your friends, talk to me now, Rafuel. Or that princess you have hidden may not be hiding too much longer.’
Rafuel’s eyes met Tesadora’s with regret.
