“Oh, yes,” said Dualayn. “I asked them to catch up. Sent them on an errand. As you can see, I have four guards to protect me. All skilled men who’ve fought bandits and protected me during the Troubles. So there’s no need to waste the time of your two knights.”
The knight-captain studied the three guards. Fingers rubbed at his sweaty forehead, his knuckles swollen, Bran had an excited smile on his face as he almost bounced in his saddle, while Dajouth grinned as his eyes fell on Avena.
She groaned beneath her breath.
“Very well,” the knight-captain said. “I will entrust you to your servants. I hope you are not stained by the darkness in the Heart of the Forest.”
“My thanks for your concern, Captain. Next time I am in Kash, I shall recommend you for an award for your diligence, um...”
“Knight-Captain Dovayn,” he said, fighting a smile then inclined his head. “My thanks.” He heeled his destrier and clattered down the road, his three knights falling in behind him. They cantered towards the column to catch up, leaving a drifting pall of dust behind them.
“What are you doing here?” demanded Ōbhin once the knight was out of earshot. “I told you three to stay and protect everyone.”
“You told us not to leave with you,” Fingers said then shrugged. “Besides, I don’t work for Dualayn no more. I’m a free agent. Decided I’d ride this way. Check out the red forest.”
“Yes, yes!” Bran said, bouncing in his saddle. His horse snorted and looked back at him. Bran didn’t seem to notice. “We have supplies and food and our armor and binders. We can be a big help.”
“No Smiles?” Avena asked, a yawning pit opening in her stomach. “I thought he would come if you four did.”
“I asked him,” Fingers said, “but he’s got his wife to worry about. They got a child on the way.”
“Indeed,” said Dajouth. “Jilly is a flower that any man would stay behind to protect, though she dims before your radiance, Avena.”
Ōbhin shifted. “You spoke with him, Dajouth?”
“I did,” said Dajouth. “Right before I finished packin’. He asked me to take care of you all. He and Cerdyn will watch over the women. But the three of us were worried about Avena and wished to see her made whole.”
“And to see the ruins and fight darklings and crystalmen and bogarts!” said Bran, his face bursting with delight.
“Crystalmen fought darklings,” Avena muttered, a chill running through her. She glanced at Ōbhin.
His eyes met her. She could see the truth in her lover’s eyes. Smiles had taken on a new form. Either Fingers, Bran, or Dajouth lay dead in a ditch or thrown in Lake Ophavin. The shapeshifter’s mission was to protect Dualayn, so, of course, it wouldn’t be that easy to keep him away.
We should have let Smiles come. She looked away to battle her grief and guilt. If they hadn’t rushed their leaving, they would have realized what the thing would do.
Which one is it? Which two can we trust?
“Get us down the road, Miguil,” Ōbhin said, his voice tight. “As they said, they’re free to ride where they want. We can’t stop them.”
Bran whooped his excitement.
Chapter Sixteen
Worry itched at Ōbhin as he studied the three riders following the wagon. Bran cast his gaze around with boyish enthusiasm. He ogled the passing farms, the oxen pulling carts, the fields of withered crops while grunting men hauled buckets of water from shrinking ponds or from deep wells. Dajouth waved his hand before his face, batting away flies, his brow glistening with sweat. Fingers rode slouched, hand resting on the pommel of his horse, face flushed.
One of them was a threat. Which one would the thing masquerading as Smiles have chosen to be? Which had the monster killed and replaced? No way to answer the question without revealing Ōbhin’s suspicions. No good way to send them back, either.
They wouldn’t go.
Need to be on my guard on how I treat Dualayn. Ōbhin stiffened at that thought. Unless that’s a way to reveal the impostor.
“Fingers, look alive,” Ōbhin said, moving to the back of the wagon.
The older man lifted his head. He blinked like he was coming out of a nap. His horse snorted at his shifting weight. It tossed its mane of black hair as Fingers mopped at his sweaty brow. The sound of cicadas buzzing grew louder as they passed a small stand of willow trees around a muddy pond.
“What?” Fingers asked, blinking.
“If I’m not around, you’re in charge of watching Dualayn,” Ōbhin said. He hated suspecting one of his men, one of his friends, of being a monster. It horrified him no matter which one had been replaced. “If he tries to get us captured, break his neck.”
“With pleasure,” Fingers said, a vicious grin spilling across his face. It made him look ugly and monstrous, his brows knitting. “I’ll strangle him with my bare hands.”
“I’ll crack him so hard with my binder across the head, I’ll split his head right open!” declared Bran.
Dajouth spat to the side. “You hear that, old man? We all want to gut you for what you did to the fair flower. You don’t get to pluck her petals and stick ‘em on another plant. You’re lucky you didn’t destroy her radiance.”
Sour disappointment churned through Ōbhin. All three wholeheartedly wanted to eviscerate Dualayn. The thing was good. Too good. How to detect a perfect mimic? It could heal wounds. Fast. If he could get any of
