Page 60 of Her Cruel Redemption

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Icouldn’t believe I’d already been forced back onto a horse. I rubbed my sore backside absently as I stood in the doorway of the tent, dreading the thought of getting back in a saddle and sustaining further bruising. I hadn’t slept a wink, which was unusual for me. I could sleep through anything, a skill I learned first surviving in the streets and then living in a suvoir. I could sleep through discomfort, noise, cold, hunger. Even fear. If I hadn’t been able to do that, I’d never have slept at all. But it wasn’t fear that kept me up all night. Fear would have meant I was dreading the morning, wanting to put off the moment it arrived. But I stared hungrily for that first brush of dawn, anticipation raising the hair on my arms as the glow of pink spilled over the crests of the hills beyond. As the light spread, clarity returned. I realised how I’d been scanning the dark, hoping to see something I wouldn’t admit to, even though we were still a good hour’s ride away from the meeting point.

The sounds of Mae stirring were followed by her voice, husky with sleep. ‘You’re up early.’

‘Couldn’t sleep.’ I tore my eyes away from those pink hills to let the door to the tent flap shut. I returned to my bed and sat cross-legged as Mae stretched her arms high above her head, yawning widely. Then she squinted at me like I was something that had crawled into the tent during the night and she was trying to make out what I was.

‘What kept you up?’ she asked.

‘I thought that might be obvious,’ I muttered.

‘Not really.’

‘Well, clearly I’m not looking forward to these negotiations.’

‘Sure. Clearly.’

I narrowed my gaze at her. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘Nothing. Do you think they’ll be serving breakfast this early?’ She wriggled out of her bed and busied herself with unbinding her hair as she avoided my question. I decided to ignore the comment, turning my attention to getting myself dressed. I had enough to worry about today without wondering at things Mae wasn’t going to say outright.

I‘d been surprised when it was decided that she would be the one who would reveal her true nature and join the negotiation. She’d dropped the illusions that had shadowed her pointed ears, rounded her features and obscured the peculiar violet colour of her eyes, and it hadn’t done much to help those we were travelling with in warming to her. Though, it wasn’t like they were any less wary of me, so perhaps her inhuman features weren’t the problem. In any case, the other Yoxvese were with the army lumbering along behind us at a much slower pace. Gwinellyn had slotted them in among the other Brimordian refugees serving as soldiers and healers and servers, still pretending to be human while Mae tested to see if she would be left alone or snatched up by Dovegni or Lidello to replenish their dwindling supplies of magic. Perhaps her knife-throwing abilities made her the best choice for the role, giving her some ability to defend herself while being less conspicuous and abrasive than Goras. I had the sense Elias had protested. Vocally, if Gwinellyn’s pinched expression had been anything to go by.

In any case, I was glad Mae was with us. We’d all be grateful for her abilities with reading, recognising and defending against magic when we were trapped in a room with a man who had, among other crimes, managed to compel Gwinellyn to jump from a roof. Her skills were something no druthi could replicate, which made her and her friends as valuable an asset in this war as my lightning did, a fact Ocetold’s king seemed to be beginning to understand.

Digging through the small trunk I’d been assigned for my belongings, I found the jar of face cream Vic had given me and quickly smeared some on. If Mae had noticed I was using druthi magic to soften my scars, she hadn’t said anything, and it made my stomach squirm with guilt to wonder what she must think of me for it. But now that I’d started using it, I had to keep going. Like every other iteration of magic I’d ever known, there were consequences for using beauty products laced with enchantment. The only way to avoid the corrosive effects was to keep applying it. I buried the little jar back at the bottom of the trunk and picked out a set of soft leather pants. I’d swiped them from the soldier supplies the day before, and I held them before me with my head cocked. Mae’s brows shot up her forehead when she turned around to find me pulling them on.

‘Doesn’t human culture have rules around the way women dress?’ she asked as I stretched my legs to see how they fit. They were snug around my hips but looser around the ankles, and a little long. I snorted at her comment as I rolled up the cuffs.

‘The rules can kiss my ass. These will be so much more convenient for all the riding we’ve been doing. And besides, I’ll be fighting alongside the army when we reach Port Howl, so I should be granted the same practicalities as the men are.’

‘I thought the point of these negotiations was to avoid a battle.’

‘I don’t for one second believe Draven is going to negotiate any kind of peace,’ I replied, slipping my nightdress off and tossing it to the floor before donning the tunic I’d stolen at the same time as the pants. It was a little loose, and the thin fabric left my breasts more pronounced than I was used to, but I could wear a vest or perhaps a soft set of stays beneath it to prevent anyone gawking at them. And the overlong sleeves didn’t bother me, since they obscured the colourful bruises on my wrists from the annulment ceremony. ‘We’ll be marching on Port Howl, don’t you worry.’

When I was dressed, I finally turned my full focus on her long enough to notice that she’d sat back down on her bedroll. She was tensely drawn, fingers absently picking at the hilt of one of her throwing knives as she sat cross-legged, staring into the distance.

‘Areyoualright?’ I asked, and her gaze cleared as she turned it on me.

‘No,’ she said, surprising me with the honesty.

‘What’s wrong?’

‘I’m worried about who I might see in that farmhouse today too.’

‘Who do you think you’ll see?’

‘Someone important.’ She dropped her gaze to the floor. ‘Someone I love very much.’

Twisting my mouth, I sank back onto my bedroll, feeling strangely uneasy in the face of what was clearly intense affection in her voice. If I was to take a guess, I would have said she was speaking of a lover.

‘Her name’s Orym. She left the Living Valley a year ago to join the renegades, though she snuck back a few times to see me,’ Mae continued, a bitter smile playing on her mouth as she stared at a spot just beyond her lap. ‘Told me that Koschei had done everything he’d said he would. I suppose he has.’

I leaned forward, elbows on my knees. ‘And now she's fighting for him?’

Mae's laugh was low and humorless, her fingers still tapping rhythmically against the hilt of her knife. ‘Fighting for him. Believing in him. If Orym is in Port Howl, then maybe she’s willing to die for him or kill for him too.’

To kill for him. I could only guess at how such an admission weighed on her. I couldn’t pretend to understand the Yoxvese abhorrence of violence and commitment to sacrificing themselves to their principles, but I knew the fact that this Orym would turn against something so central to their way of life must be difficult for Mae to process. ‘Why?’

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