The first rider to round the bend in the road is a man I don’t recognize, sitting atop a black horse so tired, it’s stumbling on the road, its eyes rolling and its mouth frothing.
And for a moment, I’m relieved.
It might not be Timo’s men. Maybe Wren and I aren’t the reason these humans are following us. Perhaps they’re common bandits who saw the slow-moving caravan laden with goods and thought they could have an easy payday.
Then I focus on the horse again and feel only anger. Whatever drove the man to ride hard after us, he could have done it without nearly killing his animal. Compared to the orcs’ well-groomed horses, this poor beast has been brought to the very edge of its existence.
More riders follow, flogging their horses hard to keep up the pace, shouting at them to run, run, run. Four men in total, and those three that appear now, I know. They’ve been a constant, terrible part of our lives for years.
Timo rides in second place, his face scrunched up in a grimace. Following him are Damen and Snitch, whose real name I’d never learned. I wonder who the fourth man is, the one leading this mad hunt.
“Halt,” Timo calls.
The riders pull on their reins hard. The horses buck and neigh, their hooves digging into the gravel. I want to run forward and knock each of the riders off their poor mounts, but I don’t dare move. Not until I know what they want—and I’m not letting go of Wren.
The orcs are quiet as Timo dismounts with a wince. I wonder if his stab wound still hurts, and I find that I can’t bring myself to care. He deserved it, and right now, I wish more than ever that I’d gone back to kill him. He saunters forward. He’s sweating under his winter cloak, his forehead shiny. Damen stays atop his horse, but Snitch jumps to the ground, as does the stranger, who fingers the wicked dagger at his waist menacingly.
I’d be terrified if I didn’t have a wall of orc protectors behind me. I’d try to run and hide, and gods know what these men would do to me. What they would do with Wren.
Given what she told me, Timo meant to take her from me and sell her once she was old enough. The thought kindles a rage inside my chest that erases some of my fear. My stomach is in knots, but I’m simmering with fury, so I force myself to take a deep breath and calm my racing mind. I need this to go smoothly, and if I start screaming obscenities at Timo, things might escalate needlessly.
“We’ve been following you for days,” Timo says, his voice pleasant, as if we’d only walked out to the market and been late for supper. “You know I don’t like leaving the city. Especially after I’ve been stabbed in the back.”
I almost apologize. If my long stint in his crew has taught me anything, it’s that Timo is to be avoided at all costs if he’s being pleasant like this. Nothing good ever happens when his normally curt, sharp tone changes.
“You didn’t have to follow us.” I remain in my place. “We left for good.”
He takes two steps forward, and Vark tenses beside me. I don’t look at him, but he’s ready to spring at any moment.
“That’s a pity,” Timo muses. “I don’t have anyone with your particular skill set in my crew. I’ll have to train someone, and that’s always a nuisance.”
I open my mouth to say that this doesn’t concern me, but he continues on as if talking to himself.
“Of course, that’ll mean a loss of income, which will go on your tab.” He runs his hand through his short brown hair, slicking it to the side. “But I wouldn’t have followed you all the way here for a handful of silver coins.”
Dread pools inside my gut, cold and unpleasant. I know what he’s about to say, and I hate him for it.
“That girlie over there wasn’t yours to take,” he announces, his eyes flashing with anger even though his voice is still calm. “You know that. So if you’ve decided to whore yourself out to these monsters, you can do that. But we’ll be taking Wren back to the city with us.”
Wren doesn’t say anything to this, only buries her face in my neck and clasps my shoulders, her small body trembling with fear.
Behind me, someone growls, a low, menacing sound that I would have missed if I wasn’t so close to the group of orcs. Timo certainly doesn’t seem concerned—he merely crosses his arms over his chest and sends me an impatient look, like I’m inconveniencing him.
“She’s not yours,” I spit out. “She’s a child, and she’s staying with me.”
Wren’s soft exhale against my skin just about kills me, and I wind my arms around her back to underscore my words.
“Come now,” Timo says. “Let’s not make this any more unpleasant than it needs to be.”
“You’re not getting her,” I force through gritted teeth, taking a step back, closer to the orcs. “Now leave.”
Timo’s handsome face twists with fury. “I paid hundreds of marks for her. Do you really think I’m going to let you steal her? You’re like a penny slut, Hazel, bringing in just enough to justify your existence. But your friend knew where her real worth lay, didn’t she?”
I still, his words punching into me. “What are you saying?”
Timo laughs, and his henchmen echo the sound, jarring in the quiet forest.
“She didn’t tell you? Oh, that’s rich. All this time, you’ve been raising the product of your best friend’s greed, and you didn’t even know about it?” He steps forward, crossing the empty space between his group and ours. “I paid Aline two hundred gold marks to travel to the fae lands and get herself knocked up by some fae prick. We agreed that she’d raise the child, and I would keep it once it was old enough to be sold. There’s a market for rare creatures like herself, you know? Even half-breeds. I’ve been playing a long game, dear, and it’s all about to pay off.”
His grin is grotesque, his cheeks ruddy from the cold, a sheen of sweat covering his face. He looks like a madman, and his hungry gaze is trained on my daughter.
Very slowly, I detach Wren from my chest. She makes a mewling sound, a half-sob that wrenches at my heart. But I peer into her wide blue eyes, trying to tell her without words that she has nothing to worry about. I lean in and press a quick kiss to her button nose, and she finally releases me, unwinding her legs from my waist.
I glance over at Timo. His eyes flash with triumph, and he takes another step forward, thinking I’m about to hand Wren over.
I would not give her to him if he held a knife to my throat. I would fight until my dying breath to keep her out of his clutches.
But I’m hoping it won’t come to that.
Moving fast, I turn my back on Timo and hand Wren to Ozork. She goes to him easily, and the older orc accepts her in his arms, smiling down at her. Neekar, Korr, and Ritta step closer to them, protecting Wren from Timo’s view, while Vark and the rest of the orcs, including Sarrai, crowd around me.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Timo barks. “These animals are not taking her.”
“They’re not animals,” I counter. “And they’re not taking her. I am. I’m her mother.”
“The fuck you are.” He sneers, then lifts his right hand in a gesture I’ve never seen before.
The orcs beside me explode into movement. A bowstring twangs, and the unknown human rider jerks back, an arrow sticking from his throat. Snitch cries out, cradling his hand to his chest, and I realize one of Vark’s throwing knives is stuck in the back of his palm, sunk to the hilt.
I swivel to stare at Vark, and he’s lowering his arm from where he had thrown the knife.
Timo turns on his heels, staring at the fallen man in shock. Only Damen sits still on top of his horse, his arms crossed over his chest, a faint smile playing on his lips.
“Fuck!” Timo confronts us again, his face pale. “You— They killed Petey!”
“He shouldn’t have tried to attack us,” Uram, one of the warriors, calls out.
I didn’t even see this Petey move for his weapon, but now that I study him more closely, he has a throwing knife not unlike Vark’s still clasped in his loosening fist.
Snitch removes the blade from his hand with a hiss, then glares at us all. He doesn’t move, though, and seems smart enough to remain at his horse’s side, well away from the orc warriors.
Timo springs forward, drawing a dagger from his belt. He’s heading straight for me, his face contorted with fury, and I brace myself for his attack, palming Vark’s knives. But before he can as much as take a swing at me, Vark puts himself in his path, his movements smooth.
He grabs Timo by the throat and knocks his dagger from his hand with a lazy strike. Then he lifts my former boss off the ground with one hand, holding him up as Timo kicks and flails helplessly.
A second passes in silence, then Vark turns to Korr. “How much do you think this filth is worth?”
The other orc warrior shrugs, as if they’re discussing buying a bag of potatoes at the farmers’ market. “No idea. Does he still have all his teeth?”
Vark cocks his head to the side, peering at Timo’s purpling face. “Good question. From the way he stinks, I’d say he’s well past his prime.”
I let out a startled laugh, fear mixing with relief that I don’t have to deal with this alone. I glance over at Damen and Snitch, but neither one of them is doing anything to help their leader. No honor among thieves, then.
“He’s definitely not worth…” Vark turns to me. “What was it again? Two hundred marks?”
Timo’s eyelids are fluttering now, and he’s about to pass out.
“Yes,” I squeak. “That’s what he said.”
“Get out of here,” Vark growls at Timo.
He unclenches his fist, and Timo crumples to the ground, coughing and retching. He scrabbles back from Vark like the cockroach that he is, but already, his face twists with anger.
Timo doesn’t like being humiliated. Not in front of his men—and not by enemies he deems less than human.
He twists his arm behind his back, and my senses go on high alert. I learned the trick of hiding my knife in my sleeve from him. And he’s had more time than I to practice the craft of being a sneak. Without thinking, I drop Vark’s knife in my palm, the hilt cold in my grasp. I exhale, centering myself, and let the blade fly.
But I’m too late. Timo’s knife sails through the air toward Vark, and I turn with it, following its trajectory to its inevitable end. My mind can’t comprehend what’s happening, but my body twists with horror.
“No!” I shout, leaping forward, but the blade sails past me, right at Vark’s chest.
Vark moves lightning-fast and plucks the blade from the air with three fingers. It stops, hanging from his grip, and a small trickle of crimson blood oozes down his wrist.
“Fuck,” he mutters, drops the knife, and shakes the droplets of blood from his hand.
Neekar chuckles from behind us. “See, you don’t need both eyes to be a warrior.”
Vark and I both swivel to glare at the younger orc, but he shrugs, his grin unrepentant.
“We miss Vark in the ranks,” he says.
I ignore him and run my palms up Vark’s chest to reassure myself he really didn’t get hurt. I want him to wrap me in a hug and disappear, but he clears his throat and takes my shoulders. For a moment, I think he might kiss me, but he gently turns me around to face away from him.
I blink. The scene in front of me is strange, because two men are now lying on the cold ground, one dead with an arrow still sticking out of his neck, the other twitching weakly on his back, a bloodied knife grasped in his hand.
It’s Timo, and the knife he’s holding is mine.
I hit him in the right side of his chest, and he must have pulled the knife out. The wound is barely visible beneath his clothing, but the wet stain around it spreads quickly, turning the blue fabric of his coat black. Red blood bubbles on his lips, indicating that I’d pierced his lung. My stomach roils violently. I swallow down the bile and force myself to breathe through my nose, but that’s no better because the metallic scent of blood permeates the air, a chill breeze wafting it straight toward us.
“I missed,” I whisper.
“Were you aiming for his heart?” Vark asks, his voice calm.
I can only nod. I wanted to kill Timo, a nice, clean hit that would prevent him from ever throwing that knife. But I was too slow, and now Vark is hurt and Timo is dying on the gravel road, all because of me.
“You did good,” Vark says, putting himself in my line of sight. “You protected yourself. And Wren. And me. He wanted to kill me, and if he could have, he would have killed you, too. Do you understand?”
My hands are trembling, so I clench them behind my back. “Yes.”
Vark brushes his hand—the uninjured one—over my cheek. “All right, then.” He gazes over my head and says, “Close your eyes, little mouse.”
I turn swiftly to see Wren burying her face in Ozork’s tunic. He palms the back of her head, holding her there, and gives Vark a grim nod.
My warrior addresses me. “You, too, Hazel. You don’t have to watch.”
But I do. I stare at him resolutely, my jaw clenched, and he lets out a sigh that steams between us in the cold air. Then he faces the human riders and stalks toward them, unhooking his battle-ax from his belt. Damen and Snitch wait quietly, one still on his horse, the other with his arms crossed, his expression grim.
Vark stops next to Timo and stares down at him. Timo’s frantic eyes focus on him for a moment, and he draws one last, wet breath. Then Vark lifts his ax and brings it down on his neck, severing it almost completely. He stops just shy of the ax hitting the stones beneath Timo’s body, his swing perfectly controlled.
Timo’s form twitches once, then lies still, the last of his life bleeding out of him. The silence stretches for a long moment. Then Vark crouches by the body and wipes the blade of his ax on Timo’s cloak. He stands and walks back to me.
“It is over,” he murmurs and presses a kiss to my forehead. “He cannot hurt you or Wren anymore.”
A dry sob forces its way from my throat, and I grasp the front of Vark’s cloak and hang on to him for support. Tears won’t come, and I’m not sure if it’s because even in my shocked state, my body knows I don’t want to cry over Timo, or if I’ll bawl later, after I calm down enough to process all of this.
I raise my gaze again to find that Wren is being escorted back to Vark’s wagon by three orcs, all still armed to the teeth. On the other side of me, Snitch is kneeling by Timo’s body, going through his dead boss’s pockets. He has already wrapped a handkerchief around his bleeding palm and doesn’t seem too bothered by it. He finds the money pouch and slips it into his own pocket, then moves on to Petey, the hired thug who’d died so needlessly today.
But it’s Damen who holds my attention. He finally dismounts and walks over to us with measured steps, his hands lifted as if to suggest he’s unarmed. He’s not—I can clearly see the dagger on his belt—so the gesture is symbolic at best.
“That’s close enough,” Vark growls when he’s five paces away.
Damen gives him a crooked smile. “All right, I’m not searching for trouble.”
“What do you want?” Vark demands.
Instead of answering him, Damen looks at me. “She wasn’t going to give her away.”
I blink, not comprehending. “Who?”
“Aline,” he says quietly. “She wasn’t going to let Timo take Wren from her.”
I think of my best friend, who kept such a monumental secret from me. “Why did she do it in the first place?”
I cannot understand why she’d go through with such a scheme. On some twisted level, I’m glad, because it means I have Wren now, but to have agreed with Timo’s plan, she must have been desperate.
“If she was that hard up for money, she could have come to me,” I add.
Damen’s lips twist to the side. “She wanted out of the life. It was the only way for her to get her hands on that much money.” He pauses, then adds, “We were going to take the baby and run, somewhere even Timo couldn’t find us.”
“You knew all along?”
His gaze goes dull, as if he’s reliving old memories. “I didn’t like it, if that’s what you mean. But you know how Aline was once she got an idea in her head.”
“Nothing could stop her,” I say, my voice weak. Then something else he said registers. “Wait, did you come to take Wren away?”
Damen blinks, his gaze focusing back on me. “No. You’re good to her, Hazel, and I was never a father to her.” He points his thumb over his shoulder at Snitch. “And when we get back, I’ll have to inform the crew there’s been a change in leadership. That’s no place for a kid. Aline would have wanted you to keep her.”
The relief that courses through me rocks me to my core. I close my eyes briefly, then open them again.
Damen offers me a reluctant smile. “Well, I’d say I’ll see you soon, but I don’t think I will.”
He turns his back on us, which must take some courage considering how Vark is glowering at him, and starts walking away. But something else nags me until I realize one part of his story has gone unexplained.
“Wait,” I call. “Timo said he paid Aline two hundred gold marks. Where did that money go?”
Damen shrugs. “Consider it the price for my continued ignorance.”
I glower at him and take a step forward. If Aline got that money and meant to run away with Wren and Damen, she must have stashed it somewhere. By all rights, it belongs to Wren now, and if I can set up my daughter with that kind of fortune, her entire life could be so different from mine.
A warm hand closes around my wrist before I can start on Damen. I glance up to find Vark looking down at me. He shakes his head subtly, as if trying to tell me to let it go. I frown at him, but he gives my hand a squeeze, his gaze calm.
Frustrated, I scrunch my nose for a moment, then turn back to Damen.
“Fine,” I snap. “But we’re taking the horses. You’ve nearly killed them.”
“Hey,” Snitch pipes up from behind Damen. “You can’t—”
“Deal.” Damen’s answer punches through Snitch’s protests. “Come on,” he tells his friend. “Let’s go.”
The orcs and I watch in silence as the two take saddlebags from their horses and amble down the road at an easy pace, as if they were only out for a walk in the woods. I wonder what will happen to the old crew when they learn that Timo is dead. Will Damen succeed in his takeover? But I shake away the thoughts, dismissing them. Luckily, the fate of the people who wanted to hurt me and Wren is no longer any of my concern.
“We’ll make sure they don’t get lost on their way to the human lands,” Uram says in his rumbling voice. “We’ll follow them all the way to the border.”
Vark nods in agreement, and Uram and Shanir melt back into the forest, disappearing as quickly as they’d appeared earlier.
Neekar walks up to us, eyeing the two corpses with distaste. “I suppose we should bury those so the beasts don’t get to them.”
Vark raises his eyebrows at me. My first impulse is to say that being eaten as carrion is exactly what Timo deserves, but I don’t want any animal choking on his rotten flesh.
“I’ll help,” I say instead.
