A soft touch grazed his forehead. “Is there anything I can get you?”
Her voice wrapped around him like a warm, summer breeze. Her fingers slipped into his hand and squeezed gently.
“A drink would be nice, but it can wait.” Leith cracked one eye open and peered up at her. “How’s Brandi?”
Brandi had suffered a head wound during the battle, but she seemed to be bouncing back with more energy than Leith. Not that Leith would complain. He’d take on any amount of pain if he never had to see Brandi so still and pale again.
“Fighting a headache. I’m brewing a pot of willow bark tea for both of you.”
Leith grimaced, which only earned him a laugh and a pat on his hand from Renna.
“You can both grimace all you want, but you’ll drink it.” After a moment, she looked away. “Is there anyone from Sierra who’ll recognize you? What about those who were at Eagle’s Heights? I should’ve realized earlier that someone here might realize you aren’t just Daniel Grayce.”
With her thumb stroking the back of his hand, his thoughts were going muddled. He swallowed and tried to draw in a deep breath past his aching ribs. “I entered Eagle’s Heights as myself. Many in the Resistance saw me as a Blade. It’s probably just as well that I spent most of my time at Eagle’s Heights locked in a cave. It limited the number of people who got a good look at me.”
Renna’s face remained tight and drawn. “I know. But all I want is peace and happiness and no more danger, and I…if someone recognizes you…”
King Keevan’s decision to execute only Respen left some in Acktar still longing for more vengeance, more blood. If they discovered Leith was a Blade? That King Keevan had pardoned rather than punished him? That Renna, King Keevan’s cousin, intended to marry Leith? What sort of trouble would it spark? Would a mob try to kill Leith? Or would the nobles who had backed the Resistance, with the exceptions of Lady Lorraine and Lord Alistair, turn on King Keevan?
After the war, the balance of peace was so tenuous, no one knew what might upset it. And more killing was the last thing Leith wanted to cause.
No more danger. Like the Blades returning…
Leith couldn’t think about them right now. He couldn’t worry Renna.
Leith threaded his fingers through Renna’s, shifting their clasped hands so they didn’t rest on his broken rib. “The thing about being a Blade is that people rarely look at your face. They see the black clothes and the knives, and that’s what they focus on. Dressed in clothes two sizes too big, limping, and lacking weapons, no one will give me a second glance.”
For Renna’s sake, that’s what Leith had to hope. He didn’t want his past—his marks or the remaining Blades—to get in the way of her happiness.
“Maybe you’ll have to change your appearance even more. Grow your hair out. Maybe even tie it back in a queue like Lord Alistair does.” She tapped their hands against his stomach. “I’m sure you’ll fill out a little once you start eating regular meals.”
“Never cut my hair and get fat.” Leith adjusted his arm behind his head. “Anything else?”
“Keep smiling. No one will recognize you as a Blade if you’re smiling.”
She was smiling at him now. If Leith propped himself on his elbows, he’d close the few inches of space between them and kiss her.
But people were watching. And if he tried to move that much, his groans and grimacing would erase the smile from Renna’s face.
She tugged her hand free and clambered to her feet. “I’d better check on the tea.”
Leith missed the feel of her hand, but he couldn’t prevent her from making tea for Brandi. Her head was probably pounding as painfully as his ribs.
He closed his eyes. The chatter of the others as they tended to their horses or stretched their legs washed over him. The grass rustled in a breeze that tasted of the first promise of autumn. Somewhere a few yards away, Shad’s and Jolene’s voices murmured words too low for him to hear.
Someone flopped onto the grass beside him. “War wounds are no fun.”
Leith cracked an eye open. A bandage still wound around Brandi’s head, short spikes of her red-blond hair sticking in all directions. But at least color had bloomed in her cheeks and the sparkle returned to her eyes. “Enjoy it. Your sister will be back to ordering you around before you know it.”
Brandi smirked and laced her fingers behind her head. When Renna returned with a mug of tea for each of them, Brandi flapped her hand in the air. “Renna, I need a pillow. And a snack would be wonderful. And while you’re at it…”
Renna held up Brandi’s mug. “While I’m at it, I might dump this tea on your head. You could use a bath.”
Brandi stuck her tongue out and accepted the mug. Leith pushed himself upright, wincing, and took his mug from Renna. He sniffed at the light brown liquid swirling in the ceramic mug. Smelled like boiled dirt. Blowing on it, he sipped, burning his lips and the tip of his tongue. Yep. Tasted like dirt too.
“Blegh.” Brandi scowled at Renna. “Are you purposely making this taste awful? It gets worse every time.”
Renna crossed her arms and glared. “You’re drinking it whether you like it or not.”
Leith held out his mug to Brandi. “Race you. First one to finish gets first choice at supper tonight.”
“All right.” Brandi clunked her mug against his. “Go.” She set to slurping the tea so fast she must’ve burned her lips, tongue, and throat in the process.
He sipped at his. The hot liquid still scalded the roof of his mouth, causing a layer of skin to peel.
Brandi thrust her mug at Renna and swiped her arm across her mouth. “Done.”
Renna peered into the mug. “You still have a mouthful swirling at the bottom.”
“But that’s…” Brandi sighed, gulped the dregs, and thrust the mug back at Renna with a grimace.
Leith still had half a mug to go. Not that he minded losing. Now that the tea had cooled, he finished his mug in three swallows and fought his gag reflex to keep the nasty flavor in his stomach where it belonged.
As Renna handed him a hard biscuit to wash the taste from his mouth, some of the soldiers at the far side of their temporary camp lunged to their feet and grabbed for their weapons. Leith reached for his knife but caught sight of Martyn dismounting and leading his horse through the crowd of soldiers.
Shad stepped in front of Martyn, and the two of them exchanged a few words. Martyn’s jaw tightened, and the vein at Shad’s temple pulsed. Leith shook his head. Too much anger. It seemed like the war would never truly die.
Renna stepped into Martyn’s path and held out one of the biscuits. Martyn halted long enough to snatch the biscuit from her before he brushed around her. Reaching his horse, he swung back into the saddle and rode from the camp at a trot.
Leith eased back onto the blanket, his ribs aching with every breath. Next to him, Brandi gnawed on a second biscuit. “Brandi, could you do me a favor? A really, really big favor?”
She cocked her head, the bandage making the ends of her short hair stick up in all directions. “What?”
“If you get a chance, could you talk to Martyn? Tell him one of your Bible stories.”
“Why?” Brandi wrinkled her nose and glared in the direction of Martyn’s dust cloud. “He captured us, messed up our rescue, and tortured you.”
“Please, Brandi. I’ve tried. Renna’s tried. But you have a way of working past people’s defenses. You might be the only person who can reach him.” Leith forced himself onto one elbow, ignoring the bolts of pain shooting through his ribs. “I know he’s done a lot of bad things. So have I. You forgave me for the things I did to your family.”
“You asked for forgiveness.” Brandi clenched her fists around handfuls of the tall grass. “He hasn’t.”
“He doesn’t know how yet.” Leith’s arm shook from the effort of propping himself up, but he wasn’t going to lie down until he had Brandi’s cooperation. He’d given up on Martyn too quickly once. He wasn�
�t going to do it again. “Please. For me.”
“All right. I’ll try.” Brandi scowled.
Leith flopped back onto his blanket. “Think of it as a personal challenge. You’re two for two on swaying Blades to your side. Why not make it three for three?”
“You and Jamie were easy. But Martyn’s all kinds of stubborn.” Brandi stretched out on her blanket again as well. “He would’ve made a great mule.”
Leith huffed as much of a laugh as he could with his ribs aching and closed his eyes. Yep, Brandi was just the person to let loose on Martyn.
After half an hour, Shad gathered the party to get moving again. He knelt by Leith. “Sorry. I hope that was enough rest.”
Leith braced a hand on Shad’s shoulder and levered himself upright. “It will be.” His ribs and leg still ached, but Renna’s tea had dulled the throbbing.
Brandi sprang to her feet and bounced to her horse, her headache apparently forgotten as the willow tea took effect. Jamie stood off to the side, rocking back and forth from his toes to his heels and eyeing Brandi as if he’d been waiting to help her.
Shad halted, and Leith followed his gaze to where Lord Alistair stood next to his horse, gripping the saddlehorn with his good hand. Leith managed to limp a step away from Shad’s steadying grip. “Go on. I’m fine.”
Shad raised his eyebrow.
Leith caught Jamie’s eye and motioned to him. “Jamie can help me.”
Shaking his head, Shad strolled toward Lord Alistair.
When Jamie reached his side, Leith leaned on his shoulder. “How are you holding up?”
Jamie huffed and shook his head. His shaggy brown hair flew across his eyes. “Of course I’m fine. I wasn’t the one tortured.”
No, but he’d fought in battles. He’d seen both Leith and Brandi struggle to recover from wounds. “I’m going to be fine, you know. We all are.”
“I know.” Jamie still stared straight ahead.
“No Blade has ever survived once Respen decreed their death. But here I am. Alive. I can’t complain about a few cuts and bruises.” Leith gritted his teeth and forced himself to limp a few more steps with Jamie’s help. His injured thigh muscles ached, refusing to loosen after the morning’s ride.
“The other Blades…they’re going to hunt you, aren’t they?” Jamie’s free hand tightened over the sword at his side.
Yes, they would. And, if King Keevan’s patrols didn’t catch them first, Leith would have to face them.
But, for now, Leith didn’t want Jamie or Renna or any of them to worry. Not yet. They should get a chance to enjoy their victory and peace.
“Maybe.” Leith squeezed Jamie’s shoulder as they reached Valor. “You did good. No one could’ve protected Brandi better than you did, and you saved my life by entering the Tower to fight the Blades.”
Jamie straightened. “You think so?”
“Yes.” Leith chose his next words carefully. They were the words he would’ve given anything to hear from his father. He wasn’t Jamie’s father, but someone had to say them. “I’m proud of you.”
Jamie’s grin stretched across his face and gleamed in his eyes. “Thanks.”
Leith grasped the saddle, and this time he let Jamie give him a boost up. Still, he fell into the saddle, gasping and fighting a moan. So tired. Of weariness. Of pain. Of constantly fighting for his life.
He’d done what he’d set out to do when he’d joined the Resistance. He’d kept Renna and Brandi alive, even if he’d had to sacrifice blood and pain and friendship to do it.
So what now? What happened now that the battle was over and the war won?
He didn’t know how to survive without something to fight.
5
Martyn didn’t belong here.
He lingered by the horses in front of the two-story brick Sierra Manor, the setting sun casting deep, long shadows. Behind him, wooden planks had been stretched across a ditch encircling the manor.
Leith limped at Renna’s side as she talked with Jolene. Moments after they’d arrived, Martyn had overheard Shadrach ask Renna to distract Jolene, and, a few minutes later, Shadrach had slipped out the side of Sierra Manor with a bundle of candles and flowers in his arms. With Renna’s grin and Shadrach’s mushy-eyed expression, it didn’t take half a brain to figure out what was going on.
Martyn swore under his breath. After tonight, this place would be filled with wedding planning and kissing and nonsensical rubbish.
And Martyn didn’t fit with that. Not with Leith’s faith and his perfect, do-gooder friends. Not with a life of farming and weddings and picturesque cabins on the prairie. Martyn had been abandoned. Again.
Perhaps it would’ve been better if Martyn had died in in the Tower. That’s what former best friends like him did, wasn’t it? Turn from their anger and save their best friends one last time before dying heroically. Martyn would’ve been something of a hero. The man who gave his life so Leith could have his.
Instead, Leith had a limp, and no one knew what to do with a man who should be dead. There wasn’t a place for an ex-best friend that survived the final battle.
“I don’t want to go in right now, either.”
Martyn jumped and spun toward the voice. Renna’s little sister Brandi bounced by his elbow, the leadrope for her horse in one hand and Leith’s horse—the one that had been wounded—in the other.
She nodded toward Martyn’s horse. “Let’s help put the horses away. You can take Big Brown and your horse. Jamie’s taking care of Valor. What’s your horse’s name?”
Martyn dragged his hand through his hair. “Big Brown? Name?” What was she talking about?
“Of course. You people don’t name your horses.” She rolled her eyes and jabbed a thumb at the horse Renna had been riding. “That’s Big Brown.”
Martyn glanced around. The servants seemed to be ignoring them, and Shadrach wasn’t around to push Martyn away from Brandi. Why was she being nice to him? He’d captured her and her sister, forced Leith to rescue Brandi and leave Renna behind, and tortured Leith.
A few yards away, the former Blade trainee Jamie crossed his arms, his hands gripping the reins of his buckskin and the mouse-brown horse that used to belong to Blane Altin. When he noticed Martyn’s stare, Jamie’s eyes narrowed as if to say, I’m watching you.
So Martyn wasn’t exactly free from surveillance. Still, Jamie didn’t look like he was going to interfere. Martyn grabbed the lead of the horse Brandi called Big Brown. “All right. Lead the way.”
She waltzed ahead, the two horses following her like puppies. Martyn trailed with his two horses while Jamie fell into line behind him.
As he stepped through the double-doors, the coolness of the long, low stable wrapped around him. Stalls lined either side of the stone building while a cupola on top provided light from a bank of small windows. At the far end of the stable, another set of double doors opened onto a paddock where several horses grazed.
A groom directed them to a series of empty stalls at the back of the stables. Brandi led her horses into two of them, and Martyn got his into the next two. Stablehands had already filled the feed and water troughs.
Martyn unsaddled the horses and set the saddlebags aside to carry to the manor. A few stalls away, Brandi did the same. Perhaps Martyn should’ve been chivalrous and offered to unsaddle the horses for her, but she seemed capable enough on her own.
Brandi somehow got her hands on a bucket of brushes, and she handed one to Martyn before she eased into the stall with Leith’s wounded horse. “Blizzard really likes being brushed, especially when I scrub this itchy spot here. See? Look at the funny face he makes.”
The horse was indeed craning its neck so far over its head was sideways on its body. Drool globbed from the corner of its mouth and plopped onto the stone floor.
Martyn strode into his horse’s stall and set to work brushing the dust and sweat from his horse’s back. “Blizzard, huh?”
Months ago, Leith had mentioned that name but had bru
shed it aside when Martyn had questioned him about it. Martyn should’ve realized something was wrong. He should’ve…
What would he have done, really? He would’ve done exactly what he had done. Watched Leith closer. Tried to stop him from going down a path that led to torture.
It wouldn’t have made any difference. Leith still would’ve mule-headedly kept on betraying Respen and lying to Martyn. Some brother he’d turned out to be.
“Yep. Leith let me name him when we first met in that big blizzard last winter.” Brandi scrubbed the brush across another spot of Blizzard’s spine.
Martyn concentrated on brushing each strand of his horse’s hair. Leith had begun his betrayal of King Respen all the way back then.
“Your horse needs a name too.” Brandi peered over the half wall at him.
He leaned against his horse’s neck and breathed in the steadying scent of grass and dust. Why didn’t she just leave him alone? Couldn’t she tell he wasn’t going to be charmed the way Leith had been? “Fine. Name him.”
“Wanderer.”
The name popped out too quickly. He eyed her over his horse’s mane. A smirk tilted her mouth and eyebrows. “How long ago did you name my horse?”
“Back when you captured us, though you were too grumpy for me to say it back then.”
Months. She’d named his horse months ago. A funny tightness spread across Martyn’s stomach. He dropped his brush into the bucket. “Why are you being so nice to me? I captured you. Dragged you to Nalgar Castle. Let King Respen torment you. Forced Leith to leave your sister behind and tortured him when he returned for her.”
Put that way, he didn’t even want to be nice to himself. Why did he want her kindness or Shadrach’s trust or Leith’s friendship?
No, he didn’t want it. Any of it. All he really wanted was to get away from it.
“You aren’t going to make this easy, are you?” She placed her hands on her hips. “Now pick up your brush and get back to work. I’m going to tell you a story.”
Martyn dutifully picked up his brush and applied it to his horse’s fur once again. He had a suspicion he’d have to listen to this story whether he cooperated or not.
Deliver (The Blades of Acktar Book 4) Page 4