Ravenous (18 page)

For one flittering, delicious moment, I believe myself to be safe. Then I look up into the angry, surprised eyes of the last person I want to see.

Vincali.

VINCALI YANKS ME OFF MY FEET BEFORE I'VE EVEN STOPPED SPUTTERING
seawater. A chunk of my hair rips free from the scalp and tears burn my eyes. I harden my expression, refusing to let him see me cry. He drops me and two of his men immediately latch onto my arms, while two others manage to close the door in the wall against the onslaught of water.

Vincali's sharp-angled face examines me from head to grimy toe. He grins.

“Just the girl we've been looking for. You've been skulking around for some time. First the inn on the road, then that alley.” His fingers brush the cut on his cheek where I nicked him a few days ago. “And I'd bet anything you were involved in last night's little adventure in the threshing house. I don't like it when nuisances get away. Now how did
you get in that wall?” he asks, narrowing his eyes. His voice has all the sweetness of a rabid kitten. “And more important, why?”

“I got lost,” I say through clenched teeth.

“Lost? Behind an alley wall?” He lifts me off my feet again by the front of my cloak. I can smell his awful, garlicky breath, but I refuse to turn my head away as it pours over my face. Instead I stare him down. “I have no patience for liars.”

He tosses me back, and my head strikes the brick wall, leaving me dazed and aching. One of his henchmen seizes my cloak, and I vaguely hear Vincali bark the words “Search her thoroughly.”

Panic upends my insides. They can't find the cornucopia. Not after all I've been through to get it. I struggle, landing a good kick to the henchman's legs before being caught up by a second man. More men fill the alley by the second. My mouth is too dry even to swallow, and my head still spins from hitting the wall, but I thrash and fight, and I'll keep thrashing and fighting until I lose consciousness or get away.

I pull my cloak close to conceal my satchel, but the men yank it free again. I'd give anything to have a sword in my hand right now, and a flash of silver at the hip of the man next to me catches my eye. I keep flailing. Anything to keep them unbalanced, off guard, and not expecting me to dive for that sword at the first opening.

They search my cloak, hoping for a hidden pocket, but find none. I kept everything—the map, the potions, the
cornucopia—in my satchel. Which is exactly what they set their sights on next.

As the first mercenary—the one with the sword—lunges for the bag, I reel backward, taking the second henchman with me. He grunts as his head connects with the brick wall. I stomp on his foot as hard as I can, and he releases his grip. Then I dive at the first man, rip his sword from the sheath, and hit the muddy road in a roll.

My shoulder throbs where I struck the ground, but I ignore it and leap to my feet, brandishing my newly found weapon. I edge toward the busy street, filled with Belladomans who look to be in a hurry. The two henchmen gape. But Vincali laughs.

“Stay back,” I say. “I don't want a fight, I just want to leave here. That's all.”

“You're a feisty little one,” Vincali says. I like him even less when he's amused. “You're not going anywhere. You're surrounded. Do you even know how to use that thing? I'd hate to see you hurt yourself.”

Rage boils beneath my skin. “I fought in the battle for Bryre. Yes, I do know how to use a sword.”

Vincali doesn't seem impressed, though a few of his lackeys murmur. From somewhere at the other end of the alley, one shouts, “She's a fool and a liar to boot!” which is greeted by a chorus of laughter. My grip on the sword tightens. It's heavy, but I've learned how to use the weight of it, how to swing and swipe at a man's gut, or sever the tendons on the backs of his knees. My parents prepared me well.

All I need is opportunity.

But Vincali's gaze strays from me, his would-be opponent, and he grins down at something in the water by the wall of the alley. Water begins to lick our feet, and I realize why they're all out on the street—they were headed to higher ground when I stupidly burst out of the tunnel like a wild animal. That explains why so many Belladomans are out on the street too. The noise from their carts and chatter is a dull roar behind us.

Vincali picks up the thing that pleased him, and my heart stutters in my chest.

No. No, it can't be.

He holds the small cornucopia in his hands. It must've fallen from my satchel in the struggle. The one thing I need to free Hans is now in the hands of the mercenaries.

“This is why you were sneaking around the alley, isn't it?”

“No, it's nothing. Only a trinket. I don't care about it at all,” I say, hoping he'll think it has little value and toss it back to the alley floor.

“Then you are indeed a true fool. This,” he says, cradling it in his hands, “is a thing of beauty and tremendous value. Do you even know what it is?” He considers me a moment. “Yes, I can see in your eyes that you do. You must have your own designs on it. Unfortunately, this is what I've been hunting for since Ensel's demise.”

“Give it back or I'll cut it out of your thieving hands.”

Vincali laughs. “No, I don't think you will. My men will disarm you quickly enough, and toss you into the dungeon to rot out your youth. How does that sound?”

“Like cruel and unusual treatment of children,” says a voice so familiar it makes me want to weep. King Oliver stands behind us where the alley meets the road, a full contingent of his army spreading out behind him on the street. Ren is at his side, and to my surprise, Dalen is, too. “Let her go, and give her back her property.”

A dark cloud of anger flickers over Vincali's face, and then he's all amiability again. “What? This trinket?” He holds up the cornucopia. “The girl said she didn't care about it at all. Therefore, since I care about it a great deal, it's only fair that I should look after it.”

“What exactly do you intend to do with it?” King Oliver says.

“It's no business of yours, old man,” Vincali says. Ren takes a step forward, fury etched on his face, but the king puts an arm out to stop him. I allow myself a small smile. Ren is loyal to a fault.

“I beg to differ. If you are taking it to feed the Belladomans, then I can't object. But if you intend to take it and leave, I'm afraid I must stop you. It is a treasure of Belladoma, and one we are here to protect.”

“I'll do with it as I see fit. You and your army have overstayed your welcome, I think.”

“No,” King Oliver says. “I believe it is you who have overstayed your welcome.” Though the water rises and the ground shakes, our debate draws attention. Out in the street beyond the forces from Bryre, Belladomans have stopped fleeing and begin to congregate, glaring at the mercenaries like they smell blood in the water. “Moments ago, you
threatened to imprison one of Bryre's citizens for no reason. You are planning to take the Belladomans' hope for food away from them and leave them starving. I cannot let you do that, and”—he gestures behind him to the Belladoman crowd swelling on pace with the tide—“I don't believe they will either.”

The rage in Vincali's face turns his skin a horrid purple shade. “You want a fight? Then that's what you shall get.”

At their leader's words, the mercenaries throw themselves on the Bryrian army, but they're prepared.

Men seethe around us, but Vincali still holds my cornucopia. To my horror he also now holds that strange red amulet in his hands, and he aims it at the fighting Bryrians—specifically at the king.

“Don't you dare,” I yell, throwing myself at him and sending him careening to the far side of the alley. The amulet's fire goes wide, scorching the brick wall instead. As Vincali regains his feet and I try to wrest the cornucopia from him before he can catch hold of me, my sword slips under the chain holding his amulet and breaks it. The amulet slides to the other side of the alley and splashes in the rising mucky water. He kicks me off and I land in a puddle.

I leap to my feet and brandish my weapon at him. “Give the cornucopia back.”

“Get out of my way, little girl, before I decide to make an example of you.”

“I'll run you through with my sword first.”

Vincali rolls his eyes and puts the cornucopia in the pack
at his hip. As he does, I realize he has sores on his wrists too.

“If you insist, I will teach you a lesson.” He draws his own sword, and it hisses as it slithers free. My palms sweat against the sticky, leather-wrapped hilt of my weapon. The water is up to my ankles. When the mercenaries closed the door it slowed the tide, but water still rises from the grate at the bottom of the doorway. I shiver in the breeze, clothes sticking to me like glue.

Vincali lunges and tries to knock the sword from my hands. But he doesn't count on my swiftness, nor my stubborn ability to not let go. I duck and parry, then manage a swipe at the cuff of his sleeve. No matter that I was aiming elsewhere, I still slice it open enough to surprise him.

He comes at me faster, no longer holding back because I'm a mere child. I evade the blow again, this time severing the strings holding his bag to his belt as I roll by.

Vincali doesn't give me a moment to breathe. Our fight spills onto the street as he attacks again, not realizing he's lost his bag. The one holding the cornucopia. I need to get it. I parry blow for blow; every time his frown grows deeper, and his frustration becomes more palpable. The melee around us dies down, and I realize that fewer mercenaries remain on the street, and more Belladomans and Bryrians do instead.

I think we might be winning.

He swings again, and I barely leap out of the way in time. He laughs savagely. “This should teach you some respect, girl.”

Suddenly, strong arms lift my feet off the ground and up into the air. I struggle and kick until I hear a familiar voice
at my ear. “It's all right, Greta, you're safe,” Dalen says, and I relax slightly.

I'm pulled into the middle of the crowd from Bryre, standing shoulder to shoulder in the ever-rising murky water. King Oliver is at the head of the crowd, several guards with swords drawn standing beside him. Vincali is alone. The other mercenaries are either cornered or have fled. Vincali eyes the alley where his amulet fell, but Bryre's guards fill the space in front of it.

“Picking on children?” King Oliver says. “When we first met, you claimed to be an honest man, trying to do his best by Belladoma now that it was without its king. I'm beginning to doubt you are as dedicated as you claim.” The king plucks the bag that once was attached to Vincali's hip from the water as it floats by. He pulls the cornucopia out and holds it up. Vincali is visibly enraged.

“You know,” Dalen whispers, “everyone is making an awful lot of fuss over such a small thing. I thought it would be bigger.”

All the anxiety I've been holding inside suddenly breaks and I can't help laughing. “No such luck. But it does make it very portable.”

Now it's Dalen's turn to laugh.

“That's rightfully mine,” Vincali huffs. “I slaved away for that stupid king for years, waiting for him to trust me with where he hid it. I've got more claim to it than that girl or the people in this town.”

A rumble runs through the gathered Belladomans, and I catch a few words here and there.
He can't take what's ours.
Don't let him hurt the girl.
My stomach twists. So many people claiming this one thing, the only thing that can save my brother. Now that King Oliver is involved, he'll be sure to do the right thing.

He won't just let me have it.

Which means I've lost my only bargaining chip. Will he still help me, even when he realizes I stole the map?

“It was never Ensel's to begin with,” King Oliver says, “and you will not take it as plunder. Not when the cornucopia can do much more good outside of your hands.”

“You'll give that to me, old man, or I'll—”

“No, you will leave this place. We know you have procured ships that are docked in the cove a few miles down the coast. I imagine you planned to take whatever magic you could from this country and flee, leaving the Belladomans to rot. Now, you and your men will go there—without the cornucopia and without stopping at the palace to collect any ill-begotten loot—and you will sail back to the country you came from. You will never return.”

Vincali scoffs. “Why would I do that?”

“Because while your men are trained, and
were
better armed, we have more forces from Bryre in our camp, and combined with the Belladomans we have many more than you. The men you had lying in wait for us in the forest have been dispatched. And we stripped the weapons from those men who were here earlier, but they seem to have fled. You are alone, Vincali, and I think if you stay here, you will not survive the wrath of these people.”

Vincali pales, but his jaw tightens. “I will go for now,”
he says. “But I make no promises about the future.”

“We are allowing you to leave because enough people have died in this city. But if you ever attempt to return, we will be here to stop you,” the king says.