Page 2 of A Court of Truth and Thorns
I cut Trace to bloody pieces with my glare.
He cocks a brow.Told you so.
“I guess when you have experience leaving others to die, it’s easier to swallow,” I hiss at him, knowing I’ve hit my mark as his face settles into cold stone.
“This way,” Trace says, motioning the group out the back end of our refuge. “The more distance we can put between us and the palace right now, the better.”
We hike through the green silence for six hours, our quick pace hindered only slightly by Calvin, Alexa, and Jasmine. The sweet scents of sap and earth, once so comforting to my scout-trained nerves, now grate on my lungs. Every time I blink, I can see my sister, each image more noxious than the last. Leaf screaming while a guard drags her down the corridor, her crippled foot banging on furniture. Leaf dead, the blood from her slashed body soaking the palace’s marble floor. Leaf chained and herded to Bahir. I vomit twice and make three attempts to flee, until Trace grabs ahold of my bound hands and force-marches me ahead of him. The rage blazing through my blood threatens to torch the world.
But the world could not care less.
Finally, Luca points out that with the setting sun and Calvin and the girls’ growing fatigue, half our party won’t be able to keep upright much longer. “I’m not sure we can call the escape successful if we kill them in the process,” he tells Trace, who growls in reluctant agreement.
“We’ll stop for the night. No fires.” Trace tugs on my wrists. “Give me your word that you’ll stay put, and I’ll cut the binds.”
“Cut the binds, and I promise to leave without slitting your throat.”
“As you wish,” Trace says, tying me to a tree. He pulls the binds tighter than strictly necessary over my chafed wrists. Luca surveys us with a weary glance and disappears into the woods to sweep the perimeter.
Sitting on the cold ground, I survey our motley crew. The campsite Luca chose is as good as can be found here, with a small stream for drinking water twenty paces off, a bit of rock-free ground to sleep on, and plenty of wide-branched trees to provide some shelter and concealment. Not enough to keep us dry should rain come, but better than nothing. Except for Trace, who is checking our scarce supplies, the others sit together in an exhausted huddle. The girls clutch their small bundles to their chests. Calvin spreads his coat over their shoulders, then leans down to massage his feet.
Wil stares into nothingness. I call his name softly, shifting into a more comfortable position. He turns to me, his wide eyes and pale face making him more ghost than boy. His blond curls are matted to his head with sweat.
“Are you all right?” I ask Wil.
“No,” says Wil. “I imagine none of us are.” He picks up a stick and begins to whittle the bark with the small knife he keeps in his boot. “Who did you leave behind?”
I lean my head back against the trunk.Leave behindsounds too final, too complete an action. With six hours between us and the assault, the truth of it hits deep. “My sister.”
“I didn’t know you had one.” Wil’s eyes stay on the curled pieces of bark beneath his knife, the blade continuing to move with a steadyswish, swish, swish.“I left mine too. Though I don’t think she would have come, even if she could have. In fact... I’m certain of it.” His throat bobs, but he masters himself without shedding tears.
“I’m sorry,” I say, which is stupid and inadequate, but all I have. “I’m sorry about your father too.”
Swish. Swish. Swish.Wil’s knife continues its whittling. “Do you want me to untie you?”
My jaw tightens. “I want the bastard who bound me to untie me.”
Two paces away, Trace turns his head toward us. “Keep your voices down. We’ve enough trouble as it is.”
The next hour passes in silence, broken only when Luca reappears with a report of a clear perimeter and a pair of cooked rabbits. The smell of crisped meat makes my mouth water—until the illogic of the meat’s existence registers.
“Was there a merchant peddling rabbits in the woods?” Trace demands.
“There was.” Luca grins, setting the rabbits on a stone. Taking out a knife, he hacks the meat into juicy pieces and holds the first morsel out to the girls. “She was pretty too.”
Trace pierces Luca with a glare. “You caught and roasted a pair of rabbits without worrying that a fire would signal our whereabouts to anyone with eyes?”
“The rabbits were cooked when I caught them,” Luca calls over his shoulder as he cuts the next small piece and holds it out to Wil. “Plus, didyousee a fire?” The prince—I can’t think of him as the king, not yet—looks at the meat blankly and shakes his head. “You should eat,” says Luca. “No point in all this effort to keep you alive otherwise.”
“No point in wasting dinner on someone who is likely to lose it,” Wil’s flaccid voice replies. Filtering out both the conversation and the overbearing aroma of rabbit meat, I tune my ears to the sounds of the forest. A cold shiver runs through me. Warranted caution or reflexive paranoia, I don’t know. But Trace is already doing the same thing, his eyes surveying the dark trees.
A movement in the periphery steals my breath.
Before I can utter a word, Trace snaps to one knee besideme and slices his knife through my binds. He holds a hand out to help me up, his other extending a sword’s hilt to me, the polished steel reflecting speckles of moonlight. I take the weapon but ignore the hand.
“It’s a buck,” says Luca warily, following the direction of our gaze. “I saw him wandering around. Look.” Picking up a rock, Luca hurls it into the foliage. Something rustles and runs.
I nod, though my heart fails to slow. Luca hands me my ration of rabbit, which I swallow without tasting. The buck’s rustling sounds over and over in my head, my pulse jumping each time. I’ve missed Viva Sylthia’s approach once. I can’t risk it again. A hand reaches for my shoulder and I spin, my sword in my palm, before I see that it’s just Calvin.
