Jared briefed Marc on the plan while they rummaged through a pile of stuff in the outer cell, looking fruitlessly for the missing boots. Jared’s mind churned in circles as they searched. Where could he hide the
ghardian
? Could he bring the escape plan forward? Lila was safe in the slave quarters, but he needed the relative quiet of everyone gathered in the banqueting hall, and that wouldn’t happen for at least another hour.
“I’m not happy about the comm-unit going missing.” Marc leaned against the wall, his face pale and dirty, splattered with dried blood and livid bruises. He wiped a trembling hand across his face. “I need some water.” He looked ready to fall over, and Jared had a moment of inspiration.
“You’re going to escort me back to the slave quarters, and then you’ll hide there until dinner. Nobody will think to look for you there.” It sickened him to back off from Lila, to walk away before he’d spent any more time with her, but this man would be her partner.
The ghardian sagged at the knees, but his voice was strong. “You said Lila is safe? Where have you hidden her?”
“She’s there, in the slave quarters.” Jared hesitated. “She’s been taken as a slave, but—”
He didn’t get a chance to finish. The
ghardian
slammed him against the wall. Marc was taller and heavier, and even weakened by his incarceration, he held Jared with ease. “This is your fault. If they’ve harmed so much as a hair on her head, you’ll pay, Grohl. I swear it.”
Jared shoved back, his anger rising. “I didn’t want this for her, or for me!”
“Should have thought about that before you ran away.” Fury blazed in the
ghardian’s
eyes along with something else. Something Jared recognized.
“Showing your emotions,
ghardian
? I thought that was supposed to be conditioned out of you?”
Marc closed his eyes a moment, and then released him. His movements were stiff, fists clenched at his sides. “She is under my protection. Now take me to her.”
They hurried through the corridors, avoiding the Saxons, and made it to the slave quarters without attracting any attention. As they entered the shadowy room, Marc stumbled, but Jared caught him before he collapsed. “Come on, just a little farther.” He scooped up a cup of water from the supply left there and guided him to the darkened end of the long room.
Seeing the reunion between Lila and her partner was going to kill him. He could not stay.
Lost in thought, he didn’t notice at first.
Lila had gone.
Lila
Bran lolled in the bath, his eyes closed, apparently oblivious to the noise around him. The other warriors sang and gossiped, slurping from a never ending supply of wineskins and making me wonder if they’d even make it to dinner. I stared at the pile of discarded weapons. A short sword and a pair of matching daggers lay on top of Bran’s tunic, a short distance from another pile of abandoned clothes. Looking every bit the conscientious slave, I gathered them in my arms and moved them farther back from the water. I weighed one of the knives in my hand. Light and sharp, but I had nowhere to conceal it, unless I wrapped it inside a towel. Even so, he’d notice its absence. I sat down again, pretending to watch as the drunken men clambered out to lie on the wooden benches, for their slaves to rub oil into them. Bran might be sober, and no doubt as sharp as his knives. I might have better luck stealing from one of the others instead.
A cry of fear dragged my attention back, and I stared horrified at the slave. A young woman, no older than me, lay sprawled on the bench, a warrior ripping away at her tunic. The others gathered around him, urging him on. The other slaves melted into the background, but I couldn’t do that. My eyes darted from the crying slave to the gleaming knives, to Bran, seemingly relaxed in the pool, his eyes still closed. Another man joined us, his plain clothes marking him as a servant, and he hurried to Bran as I sidled up to the weapons.
Bran’s voice rang out, lazy, but clearly in charge. “Leave her, Oric. I, for one, have no desire to watch you rut. Take her to your quarters.” His gaze drifted to me. “That’s what I plan to do.”
Held under the spotlight of his stare, I had no chance to steal anything, damn it. I felt the color rise in my face and I sank to the floor again, feeling sick at the missed opportunity.
The other slaves resumed their duties. I kept my eyes downcast. I wanted to avoid seeing him climb naked out of the water. I heard the
slap-slap
of feet on wet tiles and a murmured conversation close by, and then, as I tried to melt into the background, I saw a glint of shiny metal near my foot. A long metal pin, the type used for fastening robes, had lodged itself in a crevice between two unevenly laid tiles. I dared a quick glance left and right. Nobody paid me any attention. I slid my foot to the left, curled my toes over the pin lying abandoned on the tiles and slowly, with the utmost care, dragged it closer until I could close my fingers around it. It was as long as my hand and would make a fine weapon. I pinned it through the bottom edge of my tunic, where I could grab it most quickly, and then waited for Bran. Another look confirmed he was still talking to the servant, their heads close together. He’d dressed in his robe. My spirits rose.
No massage
.
“Mudd.” He sounded jovial, the servant must have given him good news. “I’ve been sleeping alone too long. Time for you to show me if it’s true what I hear about Briton women.” I jerked up my chin and scowled. Despite the cheery tone, his eyes remained cold, and his smile reminded me of a lion playing with its prey. Somebody called to him, and he laughed back. “
Sa
,” he agreed, tugging me to my feet. “If anyone disturbs me before the feast, they will be feeling the point of my sword in their belly.” He ran one arm down my side and squeezed my waist, making me jump. The servant sniggered, and I took a deep, shuddering breath. I’d have one chance at this. I had to make it count.
I trailed down the corridors, Bran loosely holding my arm above the elbow. He chatted to the servant, some idle small talk about horse breeding. I tuned it out, and concentrated instead on how I’d get out of here and back to the courtyard. When I escaped, I’d have to hide until dinner and then find Jared. How would he free Marc? Maybe I could help. Could I distract the guard perhaps?
Bran stopped, leaned on a heavy wooden door, and turned to his servant. “I’d like you to stay here, to make sure I am not disturbed before the feast.” He pushed the door open and led me inside. I scanned the room for anything that would give me an advantage. Larger than the room I’d been allocated with Marc, it held a comfortable-looking bed, a low table, and several stools beside the small window. A bench close to the door looked more promising, and my heart leaped at the sight of the heavy water jug and washing bowl.
Time expanded. Bran released my arm and strolled to the window, his back to me. I clenched and flexed my fingers, feeling a sweat break out across my palms. My heart raced. Could I do this? I’d keep the pin as a last resort.
One step forward. Bran paused. I snatched up the jug, ignoring the slosh of water to the floor. Bran half turned to me. I lunged. Raising the jug high, I smashed it down at his head.
It was heavier than I expected. My aim was off. Bran dodged, avoiding the killer blow, and the jug crashed into his shoulder instead. “
Fuck
.” The curse sounded odd to me, but I’d think about that later. With a speed I should have anticipated, his right arm shot out and blocked me. He grabbed at me. I struggled against him, adrenaline flooding my system.
I would not share his bed
. He caught my left wrist in a punishing grip, but I wasn’t finished yet. I kicked out with my artificial leg, and aimed for his groin.
He was fast. In a blur of movement, he spun away. He still held my wrist. He yanked me against his body, my back to him, while he snatched at my free hand.
“Don’t fight me,” he growled in my ear. “I mean you no harm.”
Not by his standards, maybe. Remembering the self-defense classes I’d taken prior to qualifying for jumping, I dropped my head and then tossed it back with as much force as I could manage. My movement was hindered by the damned thrall ring. The bastard avoided the blow and slammed his arm across my throat, holding my head firm.
“You. Will. Listen to me.”
No, I wouldn’t.
My right hand dropped to my last option. As he panted against my neck, I went limp in his arms, and slipped the pin free. He relaxed his hold. My heart was banging so hard, I thought my ribs would be bruised. I could hardly hold the pin, my palm was so wet.
“Will you yield to me now?”
I mumbled an answer and sucked in a quick breath, waiting for the moment he’d release me. The arm around my throat loosened. The arm across my middle dropped to his side.
Now or never.
An image of Jared filled my mind. I would not suffer the same fate. I tightened my grip on the pin and stabbed it into his thigh.
Jared
Marc insisted on joining the search for Lila, despite Jared’s demand that he stay in hiding.
“For Chrissake.” His temper barely leashed, Jared glared at the other man. “When they find you’ve gone, they’ll rip the hall apart looking for you. You’re the main attraction for the solstice and this is possibly the
only
place they won’t think to look.”
“Forget it, Grohl. I’m not letting you out of my sight. We find Lila. Together.”
They had a couple of hours until dinner, but the banquet preparations were already underway, with slaves darting back and forth to the kitchens. Jared mingled, aware of Marc watching his every move. Had anyone seen the new blonde slave girl, he asked over and over again. The girl who’d been gifted to the visiting chieftain?
One slave eventually spoke up. “The chieftain took her back to his quarters.”
Jared swallowed and took a deep breath. It didn’t help. He’d left her alone, and the chieftain had taken her.
Please God, don’t let me be too late
. He turned back to the
ghardian
, who stood in the shadows. “Follow me.”
They ran to the guest wing, where the helpful slave had told him the visiting warriors had been allocated rooms. At the top of the corridor, they paused. A dozen closed doors lay ahead, with only one person visible: a servant standing to attention half way down.
There was nothing to be gained from charging in blindly, but Marc must have thought differently. “We ask him.” Marc strode to the servant, one hand on his newly acquired short sword, the other holding the disguised stunner behind his back.
The servant frowned as they approached, but he remained in front of the door, arms folded across his chest. He was armed, a dagger hung against the man’s hip and another was strapped to his calf. He looked to be in his mid-twenties, sturdy and well fed, with intelligent brown eyes and straight dark hair. Not a Saxon, but almost certainly allied to one.
“Greetings.” The
ghardian
spoke confidently, a lazy drawl in his voice. “I have a message for the chieftain. I would thank you for telling me where I may find him.” It sounded like a question.
The servant stood a little taller, his chin lifting and the frown deepening.
Behind Marc, Jared watched the
ghardian’s
hand close tighter around the stunner, the muscles in his forearm tensing.
“My master is not to be disturbed. You may leave the message with me.”
“Very well.” Marc moved as though to turn around and leave, but then paused. “Have you seen this?” He swung the stunner in an upward arc, and struck out at the servant.
The scream from inside the room froze Jared in his tracks.
Lila
Bran hissed in pain and stiffened, and then sucked in his breath. “You little savage.”
These might be the vital seconds of distraction I needed. I screeched as loud as I could. My throat ached, and my ears rang, and I twisted and tried to wriggle free.
“Let. Me.
Go
.”
Even with the element of surprise, it was useless. He captured both hands with ease and held them over my head. Blood soaked through his tunic and splattered over me when he yanked the pin from his leg, and he cursed softly and dropped it to the floor, tightening his grip on my hands.
This was bad
. I dragged a breath into lungs that had forgotten how to work, and tried to suppress the panic swelling in my gut. It took a moment before I realized he hadn’t touched me.
“I told you, girl, I mean you no harm.” He bit the words out.
“That depends on your perspective. From where I’m standing, it looks a little different.”
His breathing was heavy in my ear, and he sounded surprised when he spoke. “You’re educated?”
Jared had insisted I lie low and not draw attention to myself, so I just shrugged as best I could with my hands restrained.
“Hmm. I’m going to release you now and I want you to sit on the bed. Got it?” He sounded angry.
Common sense yelled at me to keep calm, follow his orders, wait for another opportunity. “Yes.”
He let go of me at the same time he pushed me to tumble face down onto the bed. I immediately scrambled around to curl my legs beneath me, and scuttled as far away from him as possible. He paid me no attention anyway. Cursing softly, he examined the hole in his thigh—which bled freely—and wadded some cloth against it, and then turned to face me. I wrapped my arms across my chest and lifted my chin. He knew I wasn’t prepared to submit freely to him. I could only hope he might reconsider how he wanted to use me.
“If you’d listened to me, we could have avoided this.” His gaze flicked down to the abandoned bloody pin and back to me. “I need to go out somewhere and I just want you to stay here. That’s all. Can you do that?” I thought about it. What was to stop me leaving the room as soon as he’d gone? He raised one eyebrow. “My servant will remain on the door, should you think about running away. And you can rest assured that, when I return, I will not be demanding the use of your body.”