He heard her cry out, snarl a curse—and then a terrible, dull striking sound. She made a pained noise and dread dropped into his stomach, churning there like bad meat. "Cortez?" he asked again. "Cortez, what's going on?"
He tensed when he heard two sets of footsteps approaching him and jumped when hands touched him. He swung out, snarling when someone caught his wrist, and tried to tug free, but to no avail. "Cortez?" he repeated. "Where is Cortez?"
"Do not worry, your highness," the man holding him said. "We have taken care of the Brotherhood refuse. Come, we will take you to safety and then see that you get home."
Culebra waited until the man had stood them up, then shoved him away and backed up. "What is going on? Who are you? Where is Cortez?"
"Your highness, please. I am sorry that we have alarmed you," the man said soothingly. Culebra did not like his voice, his tone. He knew that coddling manner, that simpering attitude. "We saw you and knew you instantly. We are here only to save you."
Drawing himself up and lifting his chin, trying to act as though he were not terrified all over again after finally becoming reasonably comfortable with Cortez, Culebra said, "If you are my defenders, then you will have no problem telling me your names and what you do for a living. Who are you that you found me here in the middle of nowhere?"
"Nowhere? Highness, we are but a couple hours west of the village Blanco."
Culebra almost winced at that, feeling stupid. "Who are you?" he demanded coldly. "You still have not told me that."
"I am Diego, your highness. We are brothers of the Order that supports you and wants to see you again rise to power."
Oh, wonderful. Cultists. Being found by the Order of the White Rose was only moderately better than the Brotherhood. It meant they would not kill on purpose, but they would have no qualms about keeping him and killing him by accident later.
Culebra wondered what it said about his life that if he had to choose between the Order of the White Rose and Cortez, he was more than happy to have Cortez and risk whatever fate awaited him at the end of their journey. "I see," he finally said. "How many of you are there?"
"Uh—four, highness. We were returning to Rosa City, anyway. It is fortuitous, no?"
"Indeed," Culebra said and decided he had best play along until he could figure something out. What, he had no idea. Bitter anger choked at him, but if he wanted to get out of the predicament himself he would have to remove his bandages and that was the one thing he would not do. He would not use a power he could not control. "Did you kill the woman who was with me?"
"No, highness. We can if you prefer—"
"No," Culebra said firmly. "Killing should not be done so lightly. Leave her be. No doubt the defeat will be enough to cow her and send her on her way. I appreciate the rescue and would be immensely grateful if you would take me home."
There was silence a moment, and then Diego said, "Of course, your highness. It would be an honor to help the man we have worshiped our entire lives."
"Then put out the fire and let us be on our way."
He waited, tense and afraid, while he listened to them move around. When one of them wrapped his hand around Culebra's arm, it took everything Culebra had not to tense or jerk away. "Can you ride, highness?"
Why did everyone ask him that? "Not alone," he said curtly. Their assistance was not nearly as smooth as Cortez's had been and definitely nothing like the palace staff. He was not even going to think about the days when Granito and Dario had helped him.
They rode in silence, and Culebra tried to ignore the unwashed smell of the man he rode behind. He knew he did not smell wonderful himself, but he was grateful he could not see what the man looked like. "So you are all of the Order?"
"Yes, your highness," the man he rode with said—not Diego, though he thought Diego was nearby, on the restless horse. "Brother Diego is a full priest and the rest of us are senior acolytes. We will be taking our eternal vows at the end of the year."
"Congratulations," Culebra murmured. "I hope that goes well for you."
Silence fell again until Diego asked, "Your highness, if I may be permitted—how did you come to be all the way out here in the company of that Brotherhood woman? She would not tell us past that she had been instructed to take you somewhere."
"That is more or less the truth. She was paid to steal me from the palace, but I do not know where she was taking me. No doubt my brother will reward you handsomely for saving me."
He was more certain his brother would be happy to blame them for the entire matter, as it was easier and cheaper than an investigation, but there was no point in saying that. There would be other ways to ensure the men did not die of his brother's laziness.
Assuming, of course, that the men were actually going to take him home and not lock him up somewhere else. But if he thought about that, he would succumb to the panic just waiting to break free, and he could not afford to let that happen.
They rode for what seemed like hours, until the day grew increasingly hot and they finally stopped to rest the horses. The men clumsily helped him down off the horse and led him several paces over to sit on what proved to be a mossy log. One of them pressed a waterskin into his hands, and Culebra drank gratefully. Someone else gave him a cold meat pie wrapped in paper, and after thanking him, Culebra wolfed it down in several quick, neat bites.
He sat quietly as they talked, speaking of people and places he did not know, the words barely comprehensible. They took special care to be clear when speaking to him, but otherwise slipped right back into that thick accent that made the words sound so clumsy.
It somehow seemed anticlimactic that he had been saved by strangers and would be back to the palace in a few days. Such an adventure, however good or bad, seemed like it should have been ... more, somehow.
Then again, he was not home quite yet. Hopefully the chance for a generous reward would be enough to see him home, but he had his doubts.
A few minutes later they were traveling again, and Culebra held on for dear life as they urged the horses to move faster than before. He stared to ask why they were in a hurry, but then realized that probably sounded like a really stupid question from somebody who had been rescued.
Why did he keep hoping Cortez would save him?
By the time they stopped, he was exhausted from the ride, which had been made even less pleasant by the uneven road and his foul-smelling companion. He could smell the evening air when they finally stopped, and the cool bite of it made his skin pebble. They plopped him down on the ground and then bustled around setting up the camp. Someone dropped something beside him that, upon careful examination, proved to be a bedroll. It did not feel or smell like anything he wanted to lie on, but Culebra said nothing.
An owl hooted somewhere off in the distance, and he supposed it must have been full dark. Someone pressed a cup of what smelled like burned soup into his hands, and Culebra sipped at it delicately.
He really had to wonder at, and simply be amused by, a life that was suddenly enabling him to compare the quality of his kidnappers. Until he was delivered to the palace, he really could not trust they were rescuers.
Thus far, he definitely had to conclude that Cortez was the better kidnapper.
"Are you all right, your highness?"
"I'm fine, thank you. When do you think we will reach the palace?"
"A few days, your highness. That is, if you did not mind, I thought we might stop briefly at the home of the Order. It will be a place to rest before going all the way back to the palace, and it's such a rare honor ... "
So it began. "Of course, it would be my honor," Culebra said calmly, and he forced himself to finish his soup. An hour or so later, they all finally bedded down. Culebra waited until he could hear them all snoring and then sat up. There was absolutely no way he could sleep, and he was beginning to think of doing something stupid like clambering on top of a horse and taking his chances.
But he was not quite yet that desperate. Close, but not quite.
He sighed softly and wished the fire were a bit closer, a bit warmer.
When a calloused hand covered his mouth, Culebra was not at all surprised—not even by the relief that washed through him. Lips pressed close to his ear, and a rough, smoky voice murmured, "Time to go, highness. Are you going to raise a fuss?"
Culebra shook his head back and forth. He reached up to take the hand that covered his, turned, and just as softly said, "Please."
He felt her freeze, clearly surprised, and then the barest, faintest chuckle brushed along his cheek. She drew back, tugged him up with her, and silently led him several paces away. When they stopped, she took his hands and pressed them against a horse, giving him his bearings. When he nodded, she helped him mount and then swung up behind him.
When they were well away, Culebra started laughing.
Cortez made a soft noise behind him, as if not certain what she should think. "Are you hysterical, highness?"
"No," Culebra said after a moment. "I just—I was thinking earlier that I'm not sure what to make of a life where I am beginning to judge kidnappers. You are so far the best, and I hold all future kidnappers to your standards.
Snorting, Cortez said, "I think you are hysterical, highness, but thank you, I think. At least you have sense not to want to be escorted by the Order."
"They were never going to take me home—" Culebra broke off as the sound of horses and men shouting drowned them out, and he heard the men pounding toward them.
"Eyes slay them!" Cortez snarled, and hearing someone actually use that curse in front of him might have been funny if not for the circumstances.
Cortez abruptly veered off the road, and Culebra felt a branch scrape his cheek. They stopped, and Cortez barked out, "Stay here. Don't move."
Not bothering to ask where in the world he might go, Culebra just nodded and waited. He heard the men out on the road—heard and felt as they died, the taste sharp on the air, bitter and sweet and almost too much, for he had seldom felt so many die so rapidly one right after the other. The last time, he had been at sea.
When the noise finally stopped, Culebra waited anxiously until he heard the familiar rhythm of Cortez's walk. "They're all dead?" he asked.
"Yes," Cortez replied, swinging back up into the saddle behind him. "Does that bother you?"
Culebra shrugged. "I do not like when anyone dies. But however twisted it makes me, I feel safer with you than I did with them."
Cortez was silent for a moment before she said, "Well, I hope I am not leading us both to our deaths, highness. Come on, we'll have to ride for a while to get well away from the bodies."
"You're the one doing all the work," Culebra replied. "Thank you for coming for me. I know you had to, but still, I really do believe my chances are better with you. I am sorry you had to kill for me."
"Their deaths were ... they were there. They felt right. They often do, in situations like this. Come on." She urged the horse forward and set a pace that was too fast for talking, and Culebra let his thoughts drift, preferring not to let them settle.
Yago should have contacted her. It had been several weeks—nearly two full months—since she had seen him. She had given him a very generous amount of gold. Why had he not sent her word? He knew all the ways to leave her a message, and she had been checking every single one of them. It was a foolish risk, but she had taken it believing the information she gained would be worth the caution she sacrificed.
It would seem she had been wrong.
Going into a village was more than a risk—it was the very definition of stupid. Especially as she had just killed those Order fools. Honestly, the Order members grew more stupid with every passing day. Carrion, the lot of them.
The very last thing she wanted to do was take Culebra into a city, but she was even less inclined to leave him somewhere out in the woods and hope all would be well when she returned. She was almost completely certain he would stay put, but it seemed cruel, and the way their luck had gone, the entire Order or Brotherhood would take that moment to journey through the woods. Sighing, she dithered as they came to the crucial fork in the road and nudged the horse toward town.
"Is something wrong?" Culebra asked.
"We have to go into town," Cortez said. "There's something I need to do, but I don't want to take you into town with me ..."
"But leaving me alone out here somewhere is an even worse idea," Culebra said. "Well, I'm not going to try to run. Better to stick with the kidnapper I know, for now, than risk strangers again."
Cortez nodded, rolled her eyes at herself, and said, "I am more concerned with what will happen if somebody sees you. If you're marked, there's not much I can do against an entire town."
"I'll keep covered as best I can," Culebra said. "Why do you need to go into town?"
She hesitated a moment then said, "I am trying to learn more about this situation, highness."
"Situation? Kidnapping me? What does it matter, really? You deliver me and your part in the matter is done, correct?"
Cortez sighed at that. "This is not the way I prefer to do things, highness. I prefer not to kidnap at all. I'm an assassin, and a former assassin at that. Kidnapping was never my thing."
"I suppose I'm glad you did not kill me, then," Culebra said. "You have made it clear, one way or another, that it would not have been a hard thing for you to do."
Cortez snorted. "You sound like you are not actually certain you want to be alive, highness. Why would you prefer to be dead?" Culebra did not reply, holding himself stiffly in her arms. "You really are a brat," Cortez replied. "All the world handed to you simply because you were born in the right place and you whine about wishing you were dead?"
"You never had a moment in your life where you wished it would all just stop? Where your brother and peers no longer hated you, where people were no longer tugging at you, tugging at your life, as though you were the rope in a spring tugging game? You never once endured something that made you think everyone would have been better off without you? It must be nice to go through life so certain of yourself and never suffer a moment of doubt."