Sedge’s fingers tightened around my throat, his eyes boring into my breasts as though he couldn’t look away. When he finally looked at me, his words were thick.
“I knew there was something about you,” he said. “Something … wrong.”
I swallowed with difficulty. “Nothing’s wrong.”
His shocked stare formed itself into a leer. “You’ve kept these under wraps all this time? But it wasn’t much effort, was it? They’re no more than a handful.”
“Stop.” My voice was ragged beneath the pressure of Sedge’s hand. “I only wanted to give the bindings to Jasper.”
“Is that so?” He moved his face closer; I could smell the greasy opossum on his breath. “And you think that makes everything better, midget? You’re a woman. Not even that—you’re a girl. You deserve the first dagger that pierces your heart.”
I was shivering violently, from the cold and from the horror of being so utterly exposed. One word to Jasper would condemn me. Unless Sedge decided to take justice into his own hands.
“Aren’t you going to beg me to keep your secret?” he purred.
“No.”
He loosened his hold on my neck—not completely, but enough that I could breathe. Enough that I thought I might have a chance to fight him off. It wouldn’t keep my secret, but at least I would have the dignity of confessing to Jasper myself.
He dropped the small torch he’d fashioned from a stick and some animal fat, crushing it to darkness beneath his boot. Then he stepped forward, pressing into me, his rough hand cupping my breast, kneading it like dough. “My silence is easy to buy. Give me what I want—whenever I want it—and I keep your secret, s’da?”
Revulsion washed through me, and I wanted to claw and kick myself free from his lascivious touch. But I stayed frozen, waiting for the right moment.
“Well, midget?”
He pressed closer, wedging me between the tree and his unyielding body. His other hand found my other breast; I pushed my back into the tree as hard as I could in an effort to move away from his grasp, the rough stroke of his thumbs. He moved in for a kiss, his mouth open. I turned my face.
“You don’t like the unshaven face, little bitch? We don’t have to k—” He stopped as though someone had plugged his throat with tar. Then, suddenly, he grabbed my face in his hand, squeezing my cheeks together and forcing my chin to tilt up, toward his face. “Little bitch,” he whispered.
And I remembered when he’d called me that once before.
“It was you,” he said, his grasp tightening. “In the shop. It was you.”
I couldn’t respond; he was squeezing my face too tightly. He released me, shoving my head into the tree.
“Talking to dragons, dressing like a man—what were you buying that day?”
“I could ask you the same.”
He backhanded my cheek so hard that I saw stars. “You’ll ask me nothing. You disgraced me in front of that old hag.”
I tasted blood. My pulse raged in my ears, making me feel almost dizzy. But by releasing me, Sedge had given me the chance I’d waited for. He came at me again, reaching for my neck. In one swift motion, I moved from second to third stance and kicked him in the chest. He staggered back just enough to lose his bearings, and I leaped forward and kicked him in the throat, giving a Great Cry so long and loud that it shredded my voice.
He fell, gasping and gagging, and I assumed the second stance again, knife arm ready. Flickering torchlight reached through the trees, and the heavy crunch of boots moved rapidly closer.
“What happened?” someone shouted.
I looked up, breathing rapidly. Forest’s face was the first one I saw, his expression confused and fearful.
“Sedge attacked me.” My voice was ragged.
“Why?” River asked, coming up swiftly behind Forest, sword in his hand.
I looked at Sedge, who was on all fours, still coughing. Then I scanned the faces in the flickering torchlight—River, Dalen, Briar. Forest.
I opened my mouth and closed it again.
Sedge made a sound like he was trying to talk. I brought my foot down hard on his shoulder, causing him to fall flat.
I would not allow him to steal my moment.
“Because he discovered my secret.” My pulse rammed against my temples, and a fierce trembling seized me.
They all waited, staring. Uncertain. Forest was stone-still, an unbreathing statue.
“I’m a girl.”
Someone snorted. Forest remained frozen.
“Is this a joke?” River’s words were strained.
I closed my eyes, unable to bear Forest’s reaction. In one swift motion, I grabbed the hem of my shirt and lifted it high, exposing my breasts—my girlhood, my secret—to everyone standing there. When I was sure they had all seen clearly, I let the fabric fall, my face hot.
Utter silence fell around me.
Sedge grabbed my arm. “The bitch attacked me when I threatened to tell everyone.”
“He’s lying! He tried to make me buy his silence by—”
Sedge twisted my arm behind my back, the pain stealing my words. “Your accusations mean nothing. You’re a walking lie.”
Everyone else was staring at me with different degrees of horror. Everyone except Forest, whose expression bore more pain than I wanted to see.
I looked away.
Sedge tightened his grasp. “Jasper has lost his pet.” He pulled me along through the trees, the others following quietly. My shirt hung loose and flapping in the cold wind, and I shivered so violently that I began to ache. Sedge didn’t release me until we reached Jasper, who lay on his back near the fire. He tossed me forward so roughly that I stumbled to my knees before hastening back to my feet, hugging myself against the cold.
Jasper rose slowly … so slowly. I saw the effort it took, the grim lines of pain on his face. The others circled us, silent, watchful. Forest stood closest, his jaw tight.
“You want to know what I found hiding in the woods, Jasper?” Sedge moved to my side. “This.”
He tried to yank my shirt up, but I knocked him away. “I’ll tell him myself.” I raised my chin and met Jasper’s eyes. “I lied to you, Commander. I’m sorry.”
It was ten thousand times harder to stand in the light of the fire and expose myself to him. If I hesitated, Sedge would lunge for me again. So I lifted my shirt quickly and let it fall.
Jasper stared, his face so taut I swore I saw it twitching in the firelight. No one moved; no one spoke. Finally, he rubbed the palm of his hand across his mouth, pressing it there for a few moments before letting it drop. When he spoke, his words were ice.
“Who are you?”
I forced myself to look him in the eye. “Rain L’nahn.”
“Rain.”
“It all makes sense, doesn’t it?” Sedge’s words were ugly with anger. “The way she never took her shirt off—her secret ways—”
“Hold your tongue, soldier.” Never had I heard such barely contained rage in Jasper’s voice. His eyes still piercing mine, he took a step toward me. “Explain yourself.”
It was more than I had hoped for, but his unyielding expression told me that my words would not sway his heart, no matter what I said. “Storm is my twin brother. I took his place because he’s a simpleton and would never have survived.” I swallowed hard. “My father was ready to take his place. I couldn’t let him die and leave our family destitute.”
“Did it not occur to you, Rain, that, by disobeying the high king’s law and impersonating a man, you would bring them only dishonor?”
My teeth chattered in the cold. “I … f-figured I would die on the battlefield. My father would only have known that I f-fought for the high king and brought my family honor.”
Jasper’s steps toward me were painful to watch. His effort to portray strength he didn’t have made him look wildly determined. He stopped inches from me, so that I had to tilt my head back to maintain eye contact. Perhaps he expected me to lower my eyes, but I didn’t. I’d met his gaze for weeks as a soldier—I would continue to meet it now.
“I believed in you,” he said in a thin voice meant only for my ears. “I gave you opportunities to excel. I let you drag me onto the back of a dragon. And I’ve told my men to lead you safely to meet a dragon for a mission I still don’t understand.” Several tight breaths escaped his lips, as though he were reining in a torrent of emotion. “I trusted you.”
Everything I had admired about Jasper faded like mist. Had he truly devalued everything I’d done simply because I wasn’t a man? “You can still trust me.”
“No,” he said. “I can’t.” He turned and walked toward the fire. When he reached it, he faced me again and raised his voice. “What you’ve done is punishable by death.”
The cold that had already set my body to shivering turned to ice in my veins. I hugged myself against the wind, aware of the shuffling around me, the stares of my fellow soldiers, who surely felt as betrayed as Jasper.
A more pronounced movement caught my eye, and I looked to see Forest stepping forward. Panic ripped through me, and as soon as he glanced at me, I shook my head—a tight, subtle movement that begged him not to speak.
Begged him not to implicate himself in my guilt.
“Sir,” he said. “We have no army. No tribunal. And our only hope is for Storm to—”
“Rain.” Jasper’s voice was a growl. “And we’re not placing our hope in a girl.”
Forest looked like he was going to say more, but a flick of his eyes toward me gave me another opportunity to beg him silently not to speak. He compressed his lips and lowered his gaze.
The injustice of Jasper’s words raked my insides, and I didn’t try to hide the anger from my voice. “I’m the same person I was five minutes ago. The same soldier who trained with the others and found her strength and saved your life by dragging you onto a dragon’s back. Am I suddenly nothing?”
My sharp, quick breaths were the only sound aside from the snapping of the fire. Jasper was stone-still, his face unreadable.
He looked at no one in particular. “Bind her.” Then he turned his back toward me and lowered himself to the ground in front of the campfire.
At first, nobody moved. Then Sedge said, “I’ll do it,” and disappeared into the trees.
No one else seemed quite sure what to do. Flint and Briar simply walked to the fire and sat down to warm themselves. River and Dalen stood awkwardly together, not speaking, not really looking at me. Dalen’s face, especially, reflected deep dismay. Nobody reacted further.
Except Forest, who walked purposefully toward me, removing my cloak from his shoulders as he walked. He draped the cloak over me and fastened it.
“I’m sorry,” he said, forming his words so softly that the wind nearly carried them away.
“Say nothing,” I whispered.
He gestured vaguely to my chest. “Why…?”
“So Jasper could have the bindings for his ribs.”
He gazed at me with tenderness and pain and feelings I had no words for. Then he gave the slightest nod and turned away. I pulled the cloak tightly around myself, burrowing into its warmth. When I looked up, River and Dalen were both watching me. I lifted my chin, determined not to feel shame. To my surprise, each of them offered a slight bow before turning to face the fire.
A flicker of hope warmed my heart. Perhaps Forest wasn’t the only one who didn’t see me as something less.
Sedge returned moments later, my dirty strips of cloth piled in his hands. He removed my sword and grabbed my arm more roughly than he needed to. I responded instinctively by assuming a defensive stance and raising my knife arm to knock loose his grasp. I stopped myself as quickly as I’d started, but he tightened his grip and pulled me to him.
“Not this time, bitch. Your game is over.”
He yanked my arm behind my back, and I willingly offered the other one, to avoid more conflict. He knotted my wrists together with a length of the cloth, ripping it off and tossing the remainder of the fabric beside me. Then he walked to the edge of the fire and started a low conversation with Flint.
I lowered myself to the ground and bowed my head. The cloak was warm, but I would have liked to be near the fire, to connect with this group that I’d worked so hard to be a valuable part of.
Exposed, my value was lost.
Without a word, Forest retrieved the remaining strips of cloth from my side and approached Jasper, who still sat silently staring at the flames. Forest laid the strips beside him.
“She took them off so you could have them,” he said. “I’ll bind you, if you’d like.”
Jasper looked at the crumpled pile, then returned his gaze to the fire. “No.”
Forest stood for a few moments more, waiting, perhaps, for Jasper to say something else. But he didn’t, and Forest walked away. I drew my knees up and rested my forehead on them, despair wrapping itself around me like a snake.
Nuaga. I am found out.
I closed my eyes and crawled inside the memory of her voice, listening with an intensity that made my heart patter.
Rain.
It was a mere whisper. Hardly a breath.
Relief rushed through me—the dragon powder hadn’t worn off yet.
Sleep.
I didn’t know how I could possibly sleep, cast off from the group and away from the fire’s warmth. And I didn’t know how much longer the remaining magic would be active inside me.
My sigh, long and tremulous, was captured by the wind. “I’ll try.”
But I had never felt so wide awake.
