Page 227 of When Sisters Collide
Lecne exhaled, muttering a quiet word of thanks. Leywani’s fingers unclenched, her grip on the boat loosening as a shiver of relief ran through her.
The far bank appeared, lined with tall reeds, willows, and old, gnarled trees with roots sunk in the water, their branches swaying over the surface. Once ashore, they pulled the boat into the reeds, concealing it as best they could. The Western Lands stretched ahead, a vast sprawl of grasslands dotted with bushes.
“We’ll continue on foot,” Lecne said, slinging a bag over his shoulder and retrieving a map. “The Falcons Tribe’s hillfort is only a three-day walk from here. We’ll need to keep hidden and move fast.”
Leywani nodded and fell into step beside him. They’d barely begun their trek when the underbrush stirred ahead of them.
Then—shouts.
Figures emerged from the trees, swift and silent as shadows. Warriors with long, braided hair and scraggly beards, armed with swords and bows, appeared. They moved with the ease of hunters, surrounding them in an instant.
Lecne lifted his hands, stance open, voice steady as he spoke to them in the Western tongue. All Leywani understood was the nameVolcos.
Laughter cut him off.
A couple of Westerners shoved him back, and he barely caught his footing before a fist slammed into his gut. He doubled over with a gasp.
“Lecne!” Before Leywani could move, someone seized her arm.
Another blow, this time to Lecne’s ribs. He hit the dirt with a grunt, blood at the corner of his mouth. Still, he tried speaking to them again, his tone appeasing.
A sharp kick silenced him.
The beating continued, each brutal strike echoing in Leywani’s ears. Her throat tightened, tongue sticking to the roof of her mouth. A hollow numbness crept through her limbs—the same frozen helplessness she’d known under her husband’s fists, when defiance only sharpened his cruelty. If the Westerners wouldn’t listen to Lecne, what chance did she have of stopping them?
Lecne coughed, blood flecking his lips. His eyes found hers, sharp despite the pain. He forced out a single word, raw and urgent: “Run.”
The command jolted her like a spark.
Run.
Her body moved before her mind caught up, twisting out of her captor’s grip and sprinting towards the trees. Shouts erupted behind her, lost beneath the roar of her heartbeat. The earth blurred beneath her feet, twigs snapping and leaves tearing underfoot.
Branches whipped at her arms, roots threatened to trip her, but she didn’t stop.
Not until she slammed into something solid, the force knocking the breath from her lungs. A wall of muscle and cold metal. The jarring collision sent her stumbling back, pain bursting through her skull.
An arm shot forward, catching her before she could fall.
Leywani gasped, pressing a shaking hand to her forehead where she’d struck the armoured chest. Panic clawed up her throat, but she forced the words out in Rhaetic between ragged breaths, her voice cracking.
“Please.” Her fingers curled into the icy links of the chainmail vest, the metal biting against her skin. She didn’t know who she was begging and didn’t care. Desperation poured out of her. “Please. We need Volcos.”
She met the warrior’s gaze and repeated the names she prayed he would understand. “Achaean rebels. Alena.”
A flicker of recognition flashed in his striking hazel eyes. The stern mask of his bearded face cracked, confusion softening the hard lines. “Alena?” he echoed, then spoke to her in a language she couldn’t grasp.
Hope unfurled in her chest. He knew Alena. She was certain of it.
Drawing a steadying breath, she let her hands fall from his chainmail and looked him over. Taller than most, broad-shouldered, his frame carried the weight of strength and battle. The hilt of a sword rose over one shoulder, a silent reminder of what he was capable of.
She tried to make sense of his words, but when he repeated the same phrase three times, she finally shook her head, signalling she didn’t understand.
The man frowned, then glanced over her head and whistled. The men who’d captured Lecne emerged from the undergrowth, dragging his bloodied form with them.
They exchanged more words, and it became clear to Leywani that the man holding her was in charge. The others all deferred to him.
Without warning, one of the men yanked Lecne’s hair, forcing his head up and muttering something to him.
