Chapter XXX - Rescue

It’s time.

Zoe felt cold as she silently rose from her bedroll and stood up within the confines of her tiny cupboard-like room. Her fingers were likewise stiff and unyielding as she reached down and picked up her cloak, her only remaining garment from her original clothes that she had worn when she left to rescue Grace and had instead been taken to the Elangsian palace three weeks earlier.

Has it really only been three weeks? she marveled as she threw the dove-gray cloak around her shoulders. Feels more like a lifetime.

Silently she cracked the door of the closet-room and laid her cheek flat against the wood to peer into Brysa’s large bower with one eye. Everything seemed silent and peaceful. There was no light except from the mostly dead embers of the fire in the hearth, so Zoe knew without even glancing toward a window that the night was black and moonless.

She eased the door open all the way and slipped out. Wishing she were wearing trousers instead of her swishing skirt, she snuck across the room to where Rebekka lay. Quietly she laid her hand on the other woman’s shoulders. Rebekka’s lashes opened and she sat up without a sound. Her eyes met Zoe’s, filled with nervous excitement. After grabbing a small packed bag from beneath her pillow, Rebekka stood up. She too was already clad in a thick gown and shoes.

“Have you a cloak?” breathed Zoe, scanning Rebekka’s figure. “It’s cold.”

Rebekka barely nodded, breathing quickly with anxiety. “Yes, it’s hanging by the...” she motioned toward the door but suddenly broke of her words, her eyes wide with horror.

Wary, Zoe whirled. And froze.

Brysa, ethereal and pale like a wraith, stood watching them with her cool blue eyes. Clad in white nighttime attire, strongly contrasted by her thick raven hair that tumbled loosely down to her waist, the princess seemed ghostly and unsubstantial. Her hands rose to her slim hips. “What is going on?” she demanded in a low voice, surveying their attire with obvious suspicion.

Slowly, Zoe stepped forward. “I think you know,” she said, careful to keep her tone unthreatening.

“Of course I do. You’re trying to escape; to thwart and outsmart me.” Brysa sneered. “Just like everyone else. From you, this does not surprise me.” The princess’s gaze moved past Zoe and her angry expression crumbled slightly, revealing strong, deeply entrenched sorrow. “But from you, Rebekka.... Your betrayal feels like a knife twisting in my gut.”

Rebekka inhaled a ragged breath and Zoe knew without looking that she was fighting tears. “Please, my lady,” the gentle young woman pleaded in a trembling voice. “I did not mean...”

“You’re in league with Alstair.” Brysa’s statement was flat.

Zoe nodded, not trusting Rebekka to speak without emotionally falling apart. “Yes, Brysa.”

The princess seemed startled to hear her first name come from Zoe’s lips and her gaze swerved back to Zoe’s face. Her next words were labored as she struggled to get them out. “You...lied to me all along?”

“No. I have told always you the truth.”

“You honestly think I’ll let you get away with this...this treason?”

Zoe hesitated for a second before answering. “Yes, I do.”

The princess drew herself up as though Zoe had slapped her. Her face hardened and she replied hotly, “You’re a fool, then. I refuse to bow to the whims of more people! Especially when they are the whims of a couple foreign slave girls, neither of whom hold any power!”

Thinking furiously, Zoe shook her head. “You don’t understand,” she said calmly. “You’ll help us, but not because you’re controlled by us. Instead it will be because deep down, you know that is the right thing to do.”

Brysa stared at her. “You pretend to know what I have dictated to be right and wrong in my own heart?”

“I know you are better than your father and mother before you,” said Zoe earnestly. “Think about that. What would they do in this situation?”

“Throw you in the dungeons, something I’m beginning to think both of you deserve,” Brysa replied, though she lacked conviction.

Deus, help me, Zoe prayed. Give me the right words. She looked at Brysa for a long, silent moment...and then she knew what she must say. Thank you, Father.

“Remember when I walked with you in the courtyard earlier tonight?” Brysa nodded slowly, her features pinched with strain. Zoe continued, “I asked you a question. You did not give me an answer then, nor did I require one of you. But now I want that answer.” Zoe desperately prayed she was reaching the princess’s heart, that she was saying the right thing. “I asked you if you were given the chance to use your strength and power without suppression, would you use it for good or evil. Now is your chance to choose your course, the path that you believe is right, not the one ordained to you by others. You’re passionate and resolute, Brysa. I know you want to do good things. You must make this choice, however. I cannot do it for you.”

Brysa just stared at her, a tortured look on her face. Zoe took a deep breath and quietly posed her final question: “Now will you lie down and accept the ideals your parents expect you to embrace...or will you choose to fight back and follow your own heart?”

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Brysa was torn. Two voices shrieked in her head, wrenching her in opposing directions and shredding her soul to bits. She could not go both ways, but neither could she decide which path was the right to take.

A slave was manipulating her. Brysa couldn’t listen to her; it would ruin her.

But no...Zoe spoke the truth! If Brysa wanted to get back at her parents...to be different and make decisions by herself, she ought to let Zoe and Rebekka go. I cannot hold them back from their freedom, she thought, tormented.

Ah, but was she being weak if she released them? A frail, mindless, controlled puppet? As I’ve always been, she thought bitterly. How could she even consider letting more people dictate her life?

But Zoe had said she would be strong, not weak, if she let them go. A flash of insight sped through her, reminding her that it took more strength to do the right thing than it took to do wrong. But if I kept them here, is it right or is it wrong? Her whole life she had been told that keeping slaves was a part of life. There were the strong and the wealthy who naturally ruled over the smaller, impoverished people. It was normal; expected. There was nothing wrong about that. But something about this situation was different. Brysa did not know what to do and it was tearing her apart.

Keep them here!

Let them go!

Brysa wanted to scream. Deus—Zoe’s god! Help me! she cried involuntarily, clenching her eyes shut and forming her hands into tight fists.

Peace, Little One.

She stopped as a strange stillness washed over her. A stillness that relaxed her tense muscles and soothed her strained nerves—a stillness that should not be there. Her whole life was a war zone; a place of conflict, hate, and betrayal. Peace had no place...or did it?

My peace is your peace. It is always here, always available for you. Turn to Me. For I will give you a mission that is not of this world. I have called you to greater things, Little Brysa. Will you come? Will you answer my call?

Brysa did not move, stunned by the feelings that assaulted her. Longing for the peace offered her was the most dominant sentiment. Could she do it? She agonized over the choice before her. Opening her eyes, she looked up to see Zoe and Rebekka waiting still for her reply. Zoe looked wary but strangely serene. Rebekka exuded the same sort of aura.

Peace...peace...peace. The word echoed in her head, mocking her.

My peace is your peace.

Keep them here.

Let them go.

Too many choices, too many decisions. Her head spun. Brysa exhaled and lifted her chin, her hair brushing against her cheeks and neck. Choose, Brysa. Choose.

She could not keep fighting. Whether her choice was right or would ultimately destroy her, she could not delay any longer. She opened her mouth and uttered a single word that sounded as if it had been ripped from somewhere deep within her.

“Go.”

The stark relief that flashed across Rebekka’s expression caused Brysa’s heart to clench. I’m losing her now. No matter what she had said a few minutes before to Rebekka about her betrayal, Brysa knew in her heart that the Aerilyan woman had been the truest friend she had ever had.

“Thank you...” Rebekka’s voice broke a little as she came slowly forward. “Thank you so much, Brysa.”

Brysa’s face softened a little as Rebekka wrapped her arms around her. Distraught but unable to show it, the princess returned the embrace, loathe to release Rebekka. “I will miss you,” she choked out in a whisper meant only for the other woman’s ears.

Rebekka smiled tremulously as she pulled away. Brysa glanced past her to Zoe. The two faced each other in silence. I’m doing the right thing, Brysa reminded herself, desperately. I must be; I have to be....

Despite her inner argument, faint twinges of resentment made their presence known within her as she said to Zoe, “So this is the end, I presume. You will go your way, and I will go mine.”

“Perhaps,” Zoe replied quietly. “Unless Deus sees fit to bring us together once more.”

“Deus,” the princess breathed, blinking once. Her eyes refocused on Zoe’s face and she said in a husky, forced voice, “I wish you safe travels.”

“I wish the very best to you, too, princess.”

Brysa’s lip curled slightly and she turned away. Striding quickly toward the hearth she stared down into the embers so they could not see her tears. Without turning her head toward them she murmured, “Please...just go.”

Shuffling came and they stealthily moved toward the door. A moment later the latch was lifted and the door to Brysa’s chambers opened. Just as quickly, the two foreign women slipped around it and closed it with a muted sound. They were gone.

The princess’s knees buckled and she slumped unto the stones around the hearth, her chest heaving with emotion. Unable to stand it any longer, she released her barriers and let her tumultuous feelings spew forth in a tangible way.

Brysa cried.

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Zoe, Rebekka, and Tryna crept through the castle, their feet making small noises on the stone floor that ricocheted of the walls and seemed to echo loudly throughout the rest of the castle. It was so quiet, Zoe winced each time an abnormally loud breath escaped from Rebekka’s mouth or Tryna’s muttered prayers reached a crescendo. Everything was dark for there were neither torches nor guards along the halls Zoe led them down.

They passed a grim-looking but familiar door and Zoe paused. “Wait here,” she murmured to her two companions, quickly opening the door and slipping into the pitch black interior of the weapons room. She felt her way forward, and then paused as she reached the first stack of armaments. She carefully fingered the weapons, knowing that while some of the swords were enclosed in leather scabbards, others were not. Her fingers delicately skimmed over some of the swords razor-sharp edges until she encountered a leather-wrapped hilt. Grasping it firmly she pulled the weapon out of the pile. She inspected it with her fingers and was satisfied to find that it was equipped not only with a sheath but also a thick leather baldric strap. She nimbly strapped it on beneath her cloak, her fingers fastening and tightening automatically.

That done, she felt around again and selected two small daggers, also equipped with sheaths and belts. Feeling much more prepared now that she was armed, she turned and exited the room, rejoining Rebekka and Tryna. She handed them each one of the daggers.

“Strap them on,” she told them under her breath.

Tryna, pale but resolute, immediately obeyed. Rebekka followed her example more slowly, seeming fearful of the weapon she held. “Zoe—”

“Not now. Let’s go,” Zoe interrupted. Rebekka bit her lip and the three of them hurried on.

True to her word, Tryna had been waiting for Zoe and Rebekka at the door to the Hall of Kings, as Rebekka had arranged two days earlier. When the other woman had been certain it was Zoe and Rebekka, she had flung herself forward with a tiny cry of joy. A quick embrace between Rebekka and Tryna had ensued. Zoe stepped forward next and was immediately engulfed in Tryna’s arms. The woman was strong and sturdy of build, and the strength of her embrace had taken Zoe’s breath away.

“How did you get around Brysa?” Tryna had inquired as they moved down a quiet hallway on their way to the lower levels. “Was she sleeping?”

“She woke up,” Rebekka whispered, her tone subdued.

Zoe knew the golden-haired woman had been very affected by the confrontation with the princess and finished explaining for her. “She let us go. She knew it was the right thing to do.”

“Elangsians don’t care about doing the right thing,” Tryna spat out, her antipathy obvious.

“Be quiet, Tryna,” Zoe said, feeling a little annoyed at the other woman’s disgust. She certainly understood Tryna’s point of view but oddly enough felt twinges of sorrow at the thought of Princess Brysa’s anguish as Zoe and Rebekka left. Zoe was not willing to listen to Tryna’s arguments and complaints right then. Perhaps she never would be willing.

Finally they hurried down some steps that curved to the right and ended at a small arched wooden gate that appeared to have not been used for a long time. When Brysa had sent Zoe to complete a task earlier that week, Zoe had taken some time to “explore” the castle, taking special note of the quickest, least-noticeable exit routes of the place. This door had seemed the best option that she had found.

Cobwebs surrounded and thickly coated the door, which was reinforced with heavy metal deeply embedded in the worn wood. Zoe moved down two steps and reached a tentative hand through the cobwebs to the old metal latch on the door. Her skin twitched where cobwebs brushed it but she forced herself to ignore it and shoved the door open with her shoulder. She winced as it creaked loudly and waited, muscles tense, for some guard to run over and catch them.

A minute passed in complete silence. The three women hardly dared breath, much less move as they waited, straining their ears. Finally Zoe moved cautiously forward, her midsection twisting and loosening methodically, and passed through the clinging cobwebs into the cold, crisp air of the palace courtyard.

The other two followed her quickly. “Where now?” asked Tryna under her breath after they closed the door they had just exited through.

“The postern gate,” whispered Zoe, taking charge again. “It’s this way.”

They crept across the courtyard, the only noise coming from their cloaks that billowed in the breeze. They reached the wall without being stopped or seeing any guards and for a moment they leaned against it to gain their bearings.

“Which direction is the gate?” Rebekka’s voice was laced with nervous anxiety. “I have no sense of direction in this darkness.”

Turning to them, Zoe inhaled deeply and then blew out the lungful of air, simultaneously ridding herself of the tension that sat in the pit of her stomach. “Over there,” she told her companions in a calm voice, motioning to her left. Belatedly she realized they probably could not see her hand motion in the darkness. “Follow me closely. It’s so dark we could easily lose track of each other even in the confines of the courtyard. Come on.”

Two minutes later they had reached the postern gate. Zoe ran her hands along the rough wood door until she encountered the two thick, heavy bars that secured it. She estimated their weight after feeling their breadth and thickness. Heavy, but manageable, she told herself.

“We have to lift these bars off before we can open the gate,” she murmured to Tryna, who walked up close beside her. “I’ll get the top one; you and Rebekka get the lower one.”

A moment later the bars were removed. Nerves humming with the tension, Zoe reached to open it...when without warning, Rebekka sneezed.

Zoe froze in mid-motion as the small but unbearably loud sound pierced the night air. Had anyone heard? Was anyone close enough to investigate? Deus, calm me. Let me rest in Your peace. Please protect us—

She bit off her prayer with a feeling of horror as she heard male voices coming from her right, toward the direction of the main gate. Dropping her hand from the small wooden gate, she grabbed Tryna’s arm and dragged the other woman backward toward the wall. She also snagged Rebekka in the hasty retreat and the three of them again pressed their frames against the wall. Zoe slowly dropped into a crouch, trying to make herself as small as possible, and peered out into the darkness, searching for the origins of the voices.

Not a dozen yards from where they stood were the silhouettes of two soldiers. The only way she knew they were soldiers was by way of their weapons. Even in the blackness of night she could make out the distinctive shape of the halberd weapon that the gate guards carried. Their voices carried toward her and she strained to catch all the words.

“You hear that?” the first voice was husky and tinged with suspicion.

“Aw, shut up, Jenkyns. I’m so tired I can’t see straight, much less hear anythin’. Ye’re imaginin’ things.” The second man sounded tired and irritable.

“I heard it over there.”

Zoe cringed as she saw the first of the shadows—Jenkyns—motion right in their direction. No, no, no, she silently murmured over and over, remaining perfectly still. The first soldier took a step toward them and she felt cold sweat break out over her body. Not now. Deus, we’re so close, so close to freedom! she pleaded silently, struggling to keep her breathing slow and quiet. Please protect us, blind their eyes to us, please Lord!

The second man groaned and took a couple steps away from them and back toward the castle, dragging the butt of his halberd on the ground. “It was prob’ly a bird or somethin’. What’s the big deal?”

The first did not heed him and crept even closer. Zoe waited, knowing that any minute he would make out their three forms in the shadow of the wall. Not without a fight, she thought grimly, remembering the sword she had strapped to her back and the daggers she had given to Tryna and Rebekka. Remembering her instructions to Rebekka the night before—fight, hide, or lie—she sifted through their options. The time for lying was past; they were outside the castle and too obviously out of their rightful place to deceive their way out of anything. They were hiding right now but that option was almost completely exhausted...which left only the fighting alternative.

There were two soldiers. In her prime she might be able to kill one and engage the other before they could do much except blink with surprise. But that had been a long time ago. She had not practiced more than once or twice after coming to Ruma and hardly at all since she had been taken to the Elangsian castle. Give me strength and quickness of limb, she prayed, determination falling over her like a heavy mantle. Her fingers twitched as she readied herself to pull out the sword and fight....

“Hey! Who’re you?” the first man exclaimed, dropping his halberd with a sharp clang and groping around for his sword.

He had seen them.

Instantly Zoe exploded out of her crouch and wrenched her sword out of its sheath. “Rebekka, Tryna, get out through the gate!” she yelled over her shoulder as her sword arched down at the head of the soldier in front of her.

At the last second his blade swung up and blocked hers. He grunted with the strain and in obvious surprise, though she couldn’t see his expression at all in the darkness. “Brent!” he called to his companion. “We’ve got a couple spies here!”

Zoe whipped her sword off Jenkyns’s and slashed down at his midsection. With a cry of alarm, he jumped back out of range and her sword whistled right past him.

The second man leaped forward and suddenly Zoe had two men to contend with. Her panic was gone, replaced by cold resolve. Still, she gritted her teeth as Jenkyns, the first man, started shouting at the top of his lungs, “Intruders by the small gate! Send backup!”

“Shut...up!” she growled angrily, thrusting her sword right at him. Her blade snaked just past his and she felt the tip connect with something firm yet pliable. An instant later warm, sticky blood spurted out of the darkness, coating her hand. She must have severed his jugular. Zoe wrenched the sword back and the man slowly collapsed, emitting choking sounds as he slumped down. Tying to ignore the gurgling sounds of Jenkyns’s death, she turned her attention to the other man, Brent.

“Yah!” yelled Brent, leaping toward her. All she could see was his dark shadow; she had no idea where his sword was. With a rush of adrenaline, Zoe dropped like a stone and rolled to the left, past Jenkyns’s body and toward the gate, which Rebekka and Tryna had left ajar. As she stumbled to her feet, she was astonished to hear the sound of metal clashing against metal. Whirling, she saw that a second figure was fighting Brent, though she could not tell who it was. Before she had a chance to analyze the situation, the sound of running feet came to her ears and she saw two more soldiers running up from the other side of the courtyard, their leather-shod feet making a distinctive clap-clapping noise against the ground.

Without hesitation she rushed forward, dropped to one knee and readied her arms and blade for impact. Darkness was her ally, and the first man ran right into her sword without even seeing her. He died almost instantaneously, effectively disemboweled by her blade. Sickened but unable to give into the feeling, Zoe jumped up to engage the second newcomer, who had pulled to a stop and reeled around after his companion fell.

He raised his blade and she hurriedly tried to prepare himself for a heavy downward slash—

—which never came. A dagger flew through the darkness and embedded itself in the soldier’s neck. The soldier fell without another sound, his sword dropping from his hands at Zoe’s feet. Surprised, Zoe just jumped back and stood still, trying to catch her breath. Who threw that? she inwardly demanded, warily looking around. Rebekka or Tryna? She doubted they had that good of aim but it was possible....

Zoe’s heart, which was previously ready to stampede its way right out of her ribcage, began slowing. A breeze blew stray brittle leaves across the cobblestones and whistled as it blew against the castle walls. Her eyes darted back and forth, searching for the origin of the thrown dagger. The darkness was too great; she couldn’t see a thing. She tried listening through the wind’s noise for the sound of additional human voices or footsteps but could discern nothing.

Then, without warning or sound, a dark figure appeared at her right. Startled, Zoe whipped her blade up into a defensive position and she plunged it toward the dark figure, guided by pure instinct and fear.

Unfortunately he was prepared, and her blade connected jarringly with another. She pressed against the other sword with all her strength but was stopped by a voice, familiar and touched with faint amusement.

“Well, I know you wanted to kill me a few months ago but I thought we’d passed that part of our relationship.”

It was Tancred.

Of course. She felt stupid for not having thought of that sooner. She must have been more panicked than she originally thought if she could not have even pieced that basic bit of information together. Inhaling deeply and trying to calm her hammering heart, they disengaged their blades and she lowered her sword.

“Harsh welcome, Alstair,” she muttered, using his pseudonym for safety reasons.

“I wasn’t exactly expecting your sword,” he shot back, but she could hear a lazy grin in his words. “Lucky for you I was ready or you might be standing over my dead body right now. You were going to skewer me before I even had a chance to explain my true identity.”

Zoe could feel his gaze on her though in the darkness she could see nothing of his features. Her cheeks flamed, a reaction that both startled and unnerved her. “True identity?” she sarcastically replied to cover her confusion. “That’s almost funny coming from you.”

He chuckled as he gripped her elbow and guided her toward the gate. “I can see you haven’t changed much. Still as fiery as ever.”

“I just killed a couple men rushing at me in pitch darkness, excuse me if I’m a little jumpy,” she whispered harshly.

She could almost feel his amusement evaporate at her words. “That was definitely too close for comfort. No one else has come to investigate yet, so I think we’re safe for a little while at least, but that just shortened our escape time by a great deal.”

Zoe nodded and sheathed her blade as they exited the courtyard and closed the gate. “Zoe!” Rebekka’s gasp came from the right. “You’re all right?”

“Shh, I’m fine,” Zoe said, forcing calmness into her voice, though inwardly she was anything but calm. She was not afraid to fight, especially when it gained her freedom, but killing even her enemies was not something she ever enjoyed.

“Who were those men?” asked Tryna in a shaken voice.

“The gatemen just switched off with their replacements,” Tancred explained. “You likely met the ones leaving. Now come on, we have very little time to leave. Our window of opportunity grew noticeably smaller when swords and death got involved.”

It took almost an hour to get back to Tancred’s house. Zoe was tense, but meeting up with Tancred again had helped her more than she thought possible. She was finally not the only one in charge. He could share the heavy weight of responsibility now. Thank Deus, she fervently thought to herself.

Tancred walked around the left side of the house. He opened the gate and let them all through into his enclosed back lawn. “The horses are already prepared,” he told them. “As are our supplies. I bought enough food to last us back to Mairbrac.”

Tryna and Rebekka hurried toward the lean-to stable. Zoe trailed them, but stopped as Tancred paused to latch the gate and waited for him. He turned toward him and she felt his expectant glance level on her face. “What is it?” he inquired in a low tone.

“Rebekka told me that someone was trying to kill you when she met you two days ago,” she whispered. “Who? Has your identity been discovered?”

He exhaled, and she detected underlying weariness in the sound. “Later,” he promised her. “When we have time, I’ll explain.”

Reluctantly she nodded her assent and they walked together into the stable. A lamp hung from the ceiling, projecting a faint flickering light. It was enough for Zoe to see Brac however, and she hurried forward with a small exclamation of joy.

Brac nickered eagerly and bumped his nose against her as she stroked his neck. “Hey, boy!” she murmured excitedly. “You look great. Look, you’re already getting your winter coat. Are you ready to get out of this place and back to freedom?”

The stallion bobbed his head and she hugged him tightly, inhaling his warm, familiar scent. His coat had thickened considerably even in the few weeks since she had last seen him. She rubbed her hand down his fuzzy neck, feeling his warm muscle beneath it and drawing strength from him.

At last she turned and surveyed her friends. Tryna and Rebekka stood in front of Tancred, firing whispered questions at him that he answered in a calm voice that served to soothe their strained nerves. Tancred’s face was partially illuminated in the fitful light and Zoe found herself studying him closely. He seemed to have aged in the last three weeks. Lines around his eyes had deepened, and exhaustion had etched a seeming permanent mark on his features.

She sighed. It felt so good to be around him again, it disconcerted her. And it would make it so much harder to part ways with him again, she realized with a sinking feeling. No matter, she reminded herself firmly. I must do it. It is what I came here for. Mentally shaking herself, Zoe forced herself to focus on what the topic of conversation was.

“We have to leave before dawn, and that is in but a few hours,” Tryna was saying, but she sounded unenthusiastic. Zoe scrutinized her and realized the woman was exhausted from the tense trek across Ruma. “So what is the plan?”

“We’ll leave the city immediately. There are four of us and only two horses, so we’ll have to switch off on who rides and who walks.”

Taking a deep breath, Zoe stepped forward. “There will only be three of you to worry about, Tancred, not four.”

She was stunned by the powerful force of his ice blue gaze as his eyes flicked to hers and held them in a connection she was unable to break. Her stomach clenched as his face hardened. “What do you mean?”

“I’m not coming.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m not coming,” she repeated a little louder, struggling to appear as self-assured as she could.

He stepped around Rebekka—Zoe vaguely noticed that he dwarfed the small woman—and stalked toward her, his mouth set in a tight line. She swallowed but held her ground when he stopped not three feet in front of her. “And why not?” he asked, his voice cool.

She raised her chin. “I came here for one reason: to liberate Grace. She’s not free and I cannot leave. No, I will not leave,” she amended firmly. “I don’t care what you say to try to deter me,” she said as his arms crossed over his chest and he stared down at her, one eyebrow raised. “I will fight you every inch of the way if that’s what it takes. You know I will.”

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She really had not changed.

It was almost funny, Tancred mused to himself as he stared down into her determined face. She really would fight him to stay in Ruma. Not for the first time he thought that she was the most willful young woman he had ever met, even more so than his sister. And that is saying a lot, he thought with a flicker of amusement.

“Battle me if you wish, but it will be futile,” he told her in an even tone.

Her eyes narrowed, simultaneously darkening until they were black. “You cannot dictate my actions. I have to stay.”

Tancred regarded her calmly. “No, you don’t.”

She crossed her arms and stared at him stubbornly. “Why don’t you just tell me why not, then,” she challenged, flicking her braid over her shoulder with a deft jerk of her head.

“You haven’t asked me where Jaedon is. I’m surprised.”

His keep appraisal was rewarded when he glimpsed confusion flicker across her face, almost too quick for him to distinguish. Aha, he thought with satisfaction. He had struck a nerve there. As he had guessed, she had already picked up on the older warrior’s absence and knew something was not right, but had not yet inquired into the matter. They both knew Jaedon would never have left Tancred alone in the city until sorely provoked. Her eyes momentarily dropped, then moved back to meet his.

“All right, I’ll play your game,” she replied, her tone wary. “Where is Jaedon?”

“I expect he is back in Mairbrac by now.”

“And why is he there?”

“He’s returning Grace to her sister in Bristol.”

Zoe’s breath caught and her arms dropped loosely back to her sides. “She’s free?” she whispered, shocked.

“As of a week and a half ago, yes.”

“Thank Deus,” she murmured, a grin lighting up her features. Her gaze focused on Tancred again and she licked her lips, her smile fading and leaving her looking suddenly awkward. “And, um...thank you, too.”

“The glory goes to Deus,” he replied calmly. “Your first reaction was fitting. Now, do you still want to stay here and force me to carry you out bound and gagged or are you going to work with me?”

She pressed her lips together but he spotted hints of a smile that was being expertly concealed. “You wouldn’t be able to gag me if your life depended on it,” she told him with a streak of defiance. “So you’d better be glad I’m coming willingly.”

He smirked and surprised her by reaching forward and touching her cheek. Her eyes locked with his, and he read their questioning green depths with an ease that she would certainly resent if she comprehended what he could do. “Don’t so quickly underestimate me, firebrand,” he murmured under his breath, amused.

She blinked and raw shock registered across her face. Her hoarse voice was less than a whisper as she inquired, “What did you call me?”

He dropped his hand, analyzing her expression. “Firebrand,” he repeated slowly.

Abruptly she turned away, but not before he glimpsed old pain streak through her eyes. “Don’t ever call me that again,” she murmured, her voice uneven. “Please.”

What? What had just happened? Who has hurt you, Zoe? he wondered with a touch of anger as he straightened his shoulders. Anger directed at the person who had inflicted such lasting damage to the girl standing in front of him. He had no idea how the word firebrand tied into her past, but something about it had struck a chord of sorrow within her and he intended to find out why. Preferably as quickly as possible.

“All right,” he said in a low voice. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m fine.” She inhaled quickly and turned around, blinking quickly and pointedly avoiding his gaze. “Let’s just get out of this city. I’m sick of it.”

She brushed past him and motioned to Rebekka and Tryna, who had watched the exchange silently, neither of them quite understanding everything that had passed between Tancred and Zoe.

All right, Deus, I guess I’ll deal with that later, Tancred though tiredly. Show me when it’s right.

He cleared his throat and began issuing commands. “The packs are stacked by the door,” he said. “There are four total, and it looks like you all brought something along too, so we’ll distribute the weight as evenly as we can. Since there are four of us and only two horses, we’re going to have to take turns riding.”

They each grabbed up a pack and swung it unto their back. The woman named Tryna, who Tancred estimated to be about thirty years old, turning her sharp gaze on him. “How long do you think it will take to get to Mairbrac?” she asked bluntly.

“Seven or eight days,” he replied, “taking into account the fact that we have to skirt the Elangsian troops stationed outside these walls and will have to evade any more we might meet on the road as we travel.”

Rebekka spoke next as she fastened one of the smaller bags on. “How many men are in the Elangsian army, do you think? Is there a large chance of getting caught?”

“I estimate there are close to six thousand,” he told her grimly. He knew Aerilya’s army registered at hardly more than three thousand, which would be less than half the number of the force assembled against them—especially after the Wild Men’s forces merged with Elangsia’s. “I don’t anticipate any trouble from them since we are leaving from the south gate and they are all gathering at the northwest end of Ruma. There are thousands of them already assembled, but they’re far enough away that we won’t be very close to them.”

Zoe walked past him, her head low, and led Brac out of his stall. The stallion snorted and playfully butted his forehead against her chest, but she did not respond like she usually did. Her tone flat, she inquired, “Have you any plans on how to get past the guardsmen at the city gates?”

“Already taken care of. I’ve discovered these particular guards have a weakness for ale, in large quantities.” He smiled slightly. “Earlier tonight I sent them a complimentary gift: a cask of the finest ale around. They’re dead to everything around them by now.”

Zoe nodded in acknowledgement as she and Brac left the interior of the stable.

Tryna laughed shortly. “So we get past the drunken guards and head south,” she affirmed.

“Yes.”

“Sounds simple enough,” Rebekka murmured.

“We’ll certainly try to keep it that way,” Tancred replied, turning and leading Chale out of his stall. “Come with me.”

The two women exited in front of him. Tancred blew out the small candlewick lamp on his way out and closed the stable door securely. “Who wants to ride first?” he asked quietly, inhaling of the night air and looked expectantly at the women’s dark figures.

“Tryna and Rebekka, you’re first,” Zoe’s voice brooked no argument. “I will be fine and Tancred won’t consent to ride before either one of you anyway.”

Tancred bit back a smile at the truth in her words. “She’s right,” he agreed.

A minute later Tryna and Rebekka were astride Brac and Chale and Tancred and Zoe took their positions at their horse’s heads, leading them by the knotted leather reins through Ruma’s shadowy streets. Tancred set the pace: brisk but not too fast. He struggled to keep his mind from straying to unimportant things and instead focused on Deus. Keep us in the palm of Your hand, Almighty Father, he prayed. In You we place our trust.

As if she could hear his thoughts, Zoe softly murmured, “Deus be with us.”

He glanced over at her, surprised, and managed to make out her profile, even in the darkness. “He is,” he told her quietly. “He always is.”