Page 90 of Storm to Victory
Jayna sat on Pip’s other side near her wounded arm. After rolling up Pip’s sleeve out of the way, she set to work cleaning the gash.
Pip clamped her teeth around a whimper and squeezed her eyes shut. That hurt. A lot. And Jayna hadn’t even started on the stitching yet.
Prince Edmund wrapped an arm around her shoulders. It would have seemed entirely for comfort, but he rested his hand on her elbow below her wound, holding her arm in place so that she didn’t move.
A tear trickled down Pip’s face, and she didn’t reach up with her free hand to swipe it away. It wouldn’t matter. She’d probably cry lots more before this was over.
She just wanted Fieran. She wantedhimto hold her close while her gash was stitched up. She wanted to cry into his shirt and feel safe again. She just had to know he was all right.
And if he wasn’t and the Mongavarians had done to him what they’d been doing to the ogres? She wasn’t sure how she would survive it.
Chapter
Twenty-Six
Fieran tensed, his hands clenched at his sides. Should he reach for his sword? Bolt out the door? She was just one old woman, yet she could cause a lot of trouble if she called the Mongavarian authorities.
Yet she was currently hiding them from the rioting crowd. Surely that counted for something.
Dacha stepped forward, placing himself between the old woman and Fieran. He didn’t unleash his magic. Yet.
The old woman swept another glance over them before she shook her head and gestured to the table. “I can see it is a long story. Why don’t we get comfortable? We’re going to be here a while if you wish to wait out the riot.”
As long as they kept this woman in sight, she wouldn’t be able to call the authorities or otherwise betray them. If anything, they were more a danger to her than she was to them.
Fieran stepped around Dacha and slid into a seat at the small table that dominated the center of the kitchen. Aaruk followed his example, taking the seat to Fieran’s right. After giving Dacha a long look, the old woman sat across from Fieran, leaving the final seat with its back to the door for Dacha, if he should decide to sit.
With another glance at Dacha, who had taken a spot next to the door where he could both watch them and guard the door, Fieran faced the old woman. It seemed explaining would be up to him. “We were on a mission to rescue ogres who were being held at and experimented on at a facility in southern Mongavaria.”
The old woman’s gaze shot from Fieran to Aaruk.
Aaruk crossed his arms, his smile disappearing into a hardened look. “It’s true. My cousin was killed. His magic was ripped out of his chest.”
Fieran swallowed, his chest aching in the memory of that sensation. This was the first time Aaruk had talked about what he’d experienced.
“I’m sorry.” The old woman ducked her head, releasing a heavy sigh. “Not everyone supports the empress’s Mongavaria. I’ve lost the kingdom I once knew.”
Aaruk tipped his head, although his hard expression didn’t ease.
Fieran cleared his throat. “We rescued the ogres and Alliance prisoners-of-war. They made a dash for the border. However, two of our friends were captured and brought to Landri. We’re on our way there to rescue them.”
He wasn’t going to explain that they were hoping to end the war or that there were more detailed plans. She might sound sincere, but he wouldn’t trust her that much.
The old woman gave a nod. “I see. If you’ll trust me, you’re welcome to spend the night here. I will see that you are slipped out of the village in the morning.”
Fieran glanced from the old woman to Dacha. While he was inclined to take the woman up on her offer, he’d trust Dacha’s instincts more than his own.
After a moment, Dacha gave a slight nod.
“Thank you for your hospitality.” Fieran held the woman’s gaze. “We’ll gladly stay the night.”
Fieran climbeddown from the back of the cart, his legs and rear end aching from the miles of jolting and bouncing over the rough road. Due to the crush on the main road, she’d taken them down winding back roads, little more than two ruts through the rolling fields, until they were now in a deserted stretch with nothing but fields of rustling, drying corn on either side of them.
Dacha and Aaruk climbed down after him with Aaruk rubbing his rear end. Dacha’s expression twisted just briefly, his only acknowledgment of the discomfort.
The old woman turned her borrowed horse and cart around, the cart covered with a canvas that no longer hid anything but the cart’s emptiness. She halted the cart next to the three of them, her gaze sweeping over them. “Please end the war. For the sake of the true Mongavaria.”
All Fieran could do was nod in return. None of them had mentioned that goal, but perhaps she had sensed it.
