Page 7 of Between Wrath and Mercy

“That still doesn’t tell me what you are going to do.”

The truth was, I’d barely begun to think about it.

Chapter 4

FivedaysafterEloraand Faxon left, I took a ride southeast to check on Junie and her arm. With me, I brought a few shirts and pants for Thomas, though the knees were in dire need of darning, and a skein of green and pink floral-patterned fabric I’d found stashed away in a closet. I’d intended to use it in the spring for something but thought Lillian could use it to fashion Junie some more clothing. When I handed Lillian the small container of salve, she flushed bright red and rolled her sleeves down over the flaking skin. I assured her I’d brought it only to help, knowing it had to bother her, and told her Mairin in town could always get her more if she needed it. The flush left her face, but I still wondered if maybe I’d overstepped. But she reacted so positively to the rest of the items I brought that I thought if I did hurt her feelings, she’d forgive me sooner rather than later. Junie’s arm was healing well, and I headed home with a full belly, Lillian insisting on feeding me for my efforts. I didn’t want to risk the potential of offending her further, so I ate graciously. It was midday as I approached the creek near home. Just on the other side of it, the babbling water between us and the house, Bree tensed.

“Come on, almost there,” Coaxing the stubborn beast, I pushed her forward. Bree refused to take one more step. Climbing down, I walked in front of her, thinking maybe she’d seen a stick she thought was a snake or something else on the path. I didn’t see anything that would stop her from proceeding. But then I heard something. I froze, my hand resting on my dagger the second I heard a voice.

“How much longer are we supposed to wait? I wanna go back to that tavern. You saw how that maid was eyeing me, Charlie?”

I tiptoed back to Bree, quiet as I could, and slipped off my cloak. My bow and quiver were strapped to my pack, and I quickly retrieved them. The voice I’d heard speaking belonged to a tall, lanky man who stood in the clearing in front of my house. The sun was bright, so I was able to get a clear view of him as he turned, and I noticed a dark red port-wine stain taking up a good portion of his face. I wasn’t sure who he was, but he was clearly waiting for me. I certainly didn’t want to be found unarmed. He made his way up the steps on my front porch, kneeling on the bench in front of the window as he peered inside.

A laugh barked somewhere to my left, and I heard someone relieving themselves in the trees, though I couldn’t see anyone. “She was just wondering if you could afford her!” My uninvited guest pulled himself away from my window, making his way down my porch steps.

“Hey, fuck you, Charlie. But you’re right, aye, why pay the maid in Brambleton when we can just wait a little longer here?”

That statement was what sealed his fate. These men had plans for me, and they were not of the friendly sort. Maybe I should have waited for Charlie to approach as well, so I knew where both of them were, but the threat I’d just heard terrified me, causing me to act without thinking. I grabbed an arrow, notched it, pulled back, and released. He turned to the side, and my arrow went straight past his ear.

Shit.

“AY!” He dropped down, crouched, looking into the trees for the source of the arrow. I frantically reached for a second one.

When I shot this one, it didn’t miss. It hit him in the chest, and he fell to the ground without a sound. I knew Charlie would come looking for me soon, so I pulled another arrow out, my bow ready. I slowly walked up the path, scanning the clearing for the other man.

To my left, I heard a twig snap, and I whipped my head around. I didn’t have more than a second to react before Charlie rushed me. I’d stupidly expected him to go to the clearing to check on his friend after hearing his cry, and I’d spent so much time controlling my divinity, only using it when I called upon it, that I hadn’t been listening for his heart. He must have realized what was happening and crept through the trees. He smacked the bow from my hand and grabbed me by the neck, pushing me to the ground. I was pinned, arms folded under me. I needed to get a hand free. I would not let this man kill me or do whatever else he planned. Hot, sour breath washed over me as he pushed my shoulder down to the ground, torquing it painfully. I cried out in pain, the pressure of his body on mine hurt, and I couldn’t move. His face was sallow, with dark circles under his eyes, lank hair hanging down into his face—into my face. He weighed more than me and was holding me down by the throat, and I could hardly breathe.

“Got you, bitch,” he spat at me. “Dom had that coming. Too bad he’ll miss out on the show.” He sneered down at me, shifting his weight and pressing his arm down across my chest as he began to pull at his breeches with his free hand. The second he let go of my throat, I started pulling in gasping breaths, not as deep as I needed since he was still pushing down on me.

My vision began to suffer from the lack of air, and I felt my panic rising. I tried to pull my knees up to knock off his balance, kick him, knee him, anything. His legs were over mine, and I was thoroughly pinned. But he did pull back just enough so I was able to free my left arm. I reached for his face, dragging my nails down the side of it, ripping through flesh.

A flash of light and pain burst through my skull at the temple. He’d reared back and punched me in the head, hard.

I laid still for a second, blind. He sat back a bit, grappling with the buttons on his breeches. As he struggled, he lifted some of his weight off my chest, and I rallied, bringing my other arm out from under me. I was free to reach for my dagger, strapped to my thigh. I strained, stretching for it, pulling my leg back toward me. My fingertips barely brushed the hilt, just out of reach. I began to panic. This man was going to rape me and kill me when he was finished.

My brain was racing for some way out, my breaths gasping, as I reached for his face again, but he’d sat back out of reach trying to pull my pants down, not bothering with the buttons. Without him pushing me down, I was able to start trying to wiggle away from him, kicking and pulling at the ground behind me. And then I felt the tip of one of my arrows. My quiver had spilled out when he threw me to the ground. This particular arrow was broken, the head and shaft only about the length of my hand.

I palmed the arrow just as he successfully pulled my pants down past my hips, exposing me to the cool autumn air. I felt my flesh crawl as he surveyed the length of my body, eyes landing on my face. He grinned as he reached for himself. I couldn’t hesitate.

Drawing my arm up, arrow in my fist, I slammed it into his throat as hard as I could. He had a look of shock as he watched his blood pour onto my chest, and then he collapsed.

Grunting, I pushed the man off me as best I could while covered in his blood. It was hot and sticky, and I’d never felt more disgusting. I jumped up, pulling up my undergarments and breeches as I did. Hearing Bree nicker from behind, I strode over to her, absentmindedly patting her muzzle as I caught my breath. I stood there, looking at the body on the ground. The body of a person who had just tried to rape me. A part of me wanted to run to the stable and bring a hatchet back to chop off the appendage he’d been trying to use. I shuddered at the thought of what I’d just narrowly avoided and turned, burying my head into Bree’s neck.

Who were these men, and what did they want from me? Did someone know I’d be alone, and Faxon would be gone? Finally, I pulled myself out of my thoughts and moved, leading Bree toward the stream. Picking my way across the stream, I spotted two horses tied at the front of the stable. With Bree safely settled inside, happy with the fresh oats I’d given her, I went to search the other horses, but found nothing of import. I got them settled in the stable, unsure of what to do with them. Moving back into the clearing, I kicked at the man from the porch—Dom, as his friend had called him—his body spread on the ground before me. He was dressed in all black, his young face marked with acne. That youth and clear inexperience explained why he died so quickly; he hadn’t even tried to take cover after I shot my first arrow. I searched him, finding nothing, and did the same to Charlie’s body. Nothing.

Walking past him, I went to the stream, doing the best I could to clean the blood off me. I untied and took off my bodice, thankfully free of blood save for one single drop, and then took my shirt off, fully submerging it in the water. I wasn’t sure I’d ever get all the blood out, but at least I could use it for rags.

I walked back to the house, throwing the shirt on the porch railing. I was exhausted physically and wasn’t up to laundering it. I didn’t pay attention to anything else as I trudged up the stairs, my mind racing. How long had they been waiting? Who were they? Did they know about the stipend? Charlie hadn’t seemed to care about money when he was on top of me.

I went into the bedroom, tugging off the rest of my clothing before finding myself in front of the mirror. I’d gotten most of the blood off at the stream, but there was still some on my face, some of it my own. I poured water out of the ewer into the basin and grabbed a washcloth. I touched the wound, wincing, before I started to scrub, erasing his existence from my body. What if I hadn’t gotten him off me? What if he’d—I stopped myself. He didn’t. I hadn’t been able to stop him from exposing me, and I felt violated. Moving down, I scrubbed my body with the cloth, not satisfied until every part of my skin he’d touched was pink and smarting, but it still wasn’t enough. I slid down to the ground with a sob.

After I calmed down a bit, I realized I’d have to tell someone about what happened. Should I go to Mira? Did these men see Faxon and Elora on the road? Maybe one of them had mentioned something about me being alone, not realizing someone could do something terrible with the information. I didn’t know what to do.

I had left the bodies where they fell, but I guessed the best course of action would be to go to Brambleton and let someone from the guard know what happened. But that meant drawing attention to my home. And to me and what was almost done to me. I crawled into my bed, still naked, and let my thoughts run wild. My body was exhausted. Even though my mind was racing, I couldn’t stop my eyelids from closing, pushing me to unconsciousness.

I couldn’t have slept for long because it was still light outside when I heard it. A groan. Someone was in pain nearby. Jumping out of bed, I fumbled around for my robe, pulling it closed around me and tying it tight. There was another sound, and it was louder this time. It sounded like someone was right under the bedroom window. Opening it and throwing my head out to look down, all I could see was a black lump on the ground, but it was moving. I raced down the stairs, grabbed my dagger off the table where I’d left it, and slammed out the door. Rounding the corner behind the house, the black lump on the ground turned into what was clearly a person. They had a cloak on their head. I pulled it off and jumped back, immediately regretting my decision. He’d clearly been beaten, a mass of purple, swollen skin and likely broken cheekbones explained the moaning. The man groaned again and blinked at the light of the sun behind me.

“They took her. On the road.”

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