Page 15 of Lies Within the Darkest Tower

“I doubt that’s the case and even if it is, there isn’t anything we can do about it.” I finished cutting the first strip then cut another, shortening my dress to my knees.

Once I’d cut the second strips, I made Sawyer turn his back, grabbed the rucksack with Sawyer’s clothes and hid behind some bushes. I quickly shrugged out of the dress and, for a moment, just stared at the massive red bruise blossoming across my torso from my left ribs up to the middle of my chest.

Edred could have seriously hurt me, and it was either his skill at knowing just how much force he needed to hurt but not break bone or dumb luck that I hadn’t cracked any ribs. Then my gaze slid to my pendant and the small emerald captured in gold filigree.

It was possible a man might have a fine piece of jewelry, a token of affection from a lover he had to leave behind, but it would draw attention. And while I could probably keep it hiddenbeneath my shirt, there was always a chance something would happen, and it would slip out.

That, and as much as it was now the only thing I had left of our mother, it would be better to give it to Sawyer to sell. I’d have food and lodging at the Black Tower. I couldn’t go anywhere and had no need for money. Sawyer, however, had nothing but the clothes he currently wore.

If he was going to travel out of the Five Great Kingdoms, he’d need money. And while he could sell the horse — and should definitely sell his red jerkin so he wouldn’t stand out anymore than he already did with his red hair — selling the necklace would be best.

My heart hurt and tears of frustration — that I was grateful Sawyer couldn’t see — stung my eyes.

Everything would have been fine if mother hadn’t married Edred. Except she hadn’t had a choice. Women weren’t allowed to hold land. She wouldn’t have been able to keep Herstind March for Sawyer if she hadn’t remarried after our father had died.

She could have fostered us with other nobles and become a temple maiden for the Great Father, but that would have meant renouncing her title and the king would have given the March to someone else. And if my greatest fear was true that the king was involved in Sawyer’s name being drawn in the lottery, then the March would have still ended up in Edred’s control.

And I’d be damned to the darkest shadows if I was going to let Edred remain the Marquis of Herstind March. I didn’t know how I’d unseat him, especially trapped at the Black Tower — or worse in prison for taking Sawyer’s place among the Guard — but I would make it happen.

And that meant not standing around — naked! — feeling sorry for myself.

I hurriedly wrapped the strips around my breasts as tight as I could bare with my aching chest. I was going to have to experiment with how I wrapped them so I could still move properly and breathe while not looking like a girl, but for now, I just needed to get through the rest of the day and not draw suspicion the moment I stepped through the ring into the Gray.

For once my unfemininely small breasts were in my favor and could barely be seen once I’d pulled on Sawyer’s shirt. And with his old, worn jerkin, they were completely hidden, along with most of the curve of my hips.

Now changed, I shoved the ruined dress into the rucksack so I could finish cutting it up later and stepped out from behind the bush.

“You still look like a girl,” he said, giving my long hair a pointed look as I took off my soft leather shoes and shoved them in the rucksack then pulled on Sawyer’s old boots.

“Of course I do.” I rolled my eyes at him, knelt, and held out his dagger. “Now help me cut it. It needs to look like yours and I don’t have a mirror.”

He took the dagger and selected a lock. “There’s no going back from this.”

“There wasn’t from the moment I took the binding spell,” I replied.

“I’ll find a way to break it.” He cut the lock and dropped the long strands into the stream.

“And don’t you dare try to figure out how high Edred’s influence goes,” I said, as he cut another handful of hair. “You run as far away as you can. Sell that red jerkin. The fabric is too fine and the color too distinctive. But keep the horse.”

“Yes, Mother,” he replied, but without any of the exasperation he usually had when I told him what to do.

“And take this.” I drew the string holding my pendant over my head and held it out to him.

“I’m not taking your pendant.” He cut off another chunk of hair.

“You’ll need money.”

“No.” He dropped more hair into the stream.

“She’d understand. She’d want us to survive. She’d want you to take your rightful title and take care of the people of Herstind.” I shook my head at him, the movement strange and light. I’d never cut my hair before, and it was disconcerting to feel the air against the back of my neck. “You can’t do that if you’re starving or if you die from the sweating sickness because you didn’t have enough money for shelter during the winter.”

His eyes grew glassy and for a moment I was reminded of how young he was. He wasn’t even a man, not yet sixteen. He’d lost so much already, our parents, our brother, and now his home.

I pressed the pendant into his hand. “You can do this.”

He swallowed and slipped the string over his head and hid the pendant beneath his shirt and jerkin. Then he cut away some final tufts of hair and handed me the dagger.

I sheathed it and secured his sword belt around my waist. We returned to the road and headed back to the ring in silence.

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