Deliver (The Blades of Acktar Book 4)

by Tricia Mingerink

  Martyn stabbed another bite. They could stretch it. Eat nothing besides venison stored in her smokehouse for the next month or two. But he’d gotten less than he’d hoped when he’d made his last trip to Walden in the fall. If this turned into a long winter, it’d be better if they had more supplies and to get them now before they were used up. “I was thinking I’d ride into town to see if I could get more.”

  Her forehead wrinkled. “I thought you said Walden would be too far of a ride once the snow came.”

  How much did Kayleigh trust him? Martyn met her gaze. “I wasn’t planning on going to Walden.”

  “Oh.” She stared at her plate, tapping her fork against what was left of her sausage as if she meant to torture it for answers. “I see.”

  Martyn waited. By the tone of her voice, she seemed convinced he’d learn the truth about her the moment he stepped into Flayin Falls. Did she really think it would make a difference to him?

  Maybe she did. After all, Martyn had yet to tell her he was a Blade. He seemed to think the past would change things.

  She straightened her back and met his gaze. Her brown eyes were strangely blank, her mouth a thin line. “If you think it’s necessary, then you’d better go.”

  “I’ll leave as soon as I finish eating.” Best not to let her think about it too much. “I’ll be taking the last of the furs to trade. I don’t think the townsfolk know about my mission for the king.”

  She nodded and returned to stabbing her breakfast. Martyn took the hint and finished his breakfast in three large bites. He bundled in his cloak, gloves, and scarf and trudged out the door.

  Wanderer flicked his ears and gave an annoyed snort as Martyn led him from the corral. “Sorry, fella. You’ve been getting lazy in that stall of yours.”

  After strapping on the pile of furs behind his saddle, he set out for Flayin Falls. The ride stretched into several hours since he had to let Wanderer pick his way out of the Hills slowly to avoid drop offs hidden by several feet of snow. Occasionally, Martyn got off and walked to make sure it was safe for Wanderer.

  He reached the main road through Flayin Falls at noon. Women bundled in cloaks and hoods chatted on the boardwalks while men hustled back and forth on the ice-packed road. Most stopped and stared as Martyn rode by. He winced. Strangers weren’t common, especially not in the middle of winter.

  Martyn halted Wanderer in front of the general store, swung down, and untied the bundle of furs. A group of women edged away from him as he strode onto the boardwalk. He suppressed a snort. If they’d known who he really was, they would’ve been running, not tiptoeing.

  A bell chimed at a piercing pitch when he pushed open the door. Rows of shelves lined the room, though many of them stood empty. A few barrels sat beside the outer wall, and Martyn couldn’t tell if they were filled with flour and sugar or not. Probably not. After the war, everyone was hurting this winter.

  Footsteps sounded from behind one of the shelves, then a slim man wearing a neatly pressed shirt and trousers stepped into sight. He paused, eyed Martyn, then pasted on a smile. “Hello. What can I do for you?”

  Another suppressed snort. This was the general store. Why else would Martyn be there except for supplies? The huge bundle of furs slung over his shoulder should be some indication.

  But being sarcastic wasn’t the way to avoid trouble. Martyn tossed the bundle of furs onto the counter, then set a torn scrap of paper next to it. “I need some supplies. I think these furs should be enough to trade for everything on this list.”

  The store’s owner scanned the list, a small frown curling his mouth. “I’ll have to see if we have everything. This time of winter, we tend to run a bit low.”

  Martyn made a noncommittal nod. Of course they ran low at this time of year. Next the man would spout some nonsense about the weather or some other useless chatter.

  The man bustled behind one of the sets of shelves. “That was some blizzard we had, wasn’t it?”

  Martyn gritted his teeth. The quicker he got out of here, the better. “Yes.”

  “Haven’t seen you around here before. Are you traveling through or planning on staying a while?” Something clattered as the man rummaged through his shelves. Based on where the man was standing, he currently had an unobstructed view of Wanderer through the store’s window. Probably judging how far Martyn had ridden this morning.

  Nosy shopkeeper. Full of gossip and nonsense, like every other general store in Acktar.

  Just like the store Martyn’s father had owned when Martyn was nine.

  Martyn forced his stance to relax. He belonged here. He had nothing to hide. Far from it. “I’m scouting for King Keevan. Keeping an eye out for Rovers.”

  “Are you? Haven’t seen any Rovers around these parts in months.” The shopkeeper peered over one of his empty shelves, his tone an accusation.

  Suspicious as well as nosy. Not a good combination. Martyn leaned against the counter to hide his tense muscles. As curious as he was about Kayleigh, he didn’t dare bring up the topic until after he had those supplies in his hands all traded for legally. Especially since the man seemed inclined to disbelieve anything he said. “Rovers don’t move around much in the winter. I have a cabin up in the Hills. Doing a little trapping. Keep to myself, mostly.”

  “I see.” The man returned to the counter and set down his armload. He ducked behind the counter and began filling a sack with corn meal from a barrel. “Where in the Hills?”

  If this shopkeeper could mind his own business for five minutes…Martyn forced his hands to remain on the counter and not stray to the knife he’d hidden under his shirt. “North of here a ways.”

  “Hmmm.” The man tied off the sack of corn and added it to the pile on the counter. “That’s all I can spare. It won’t quite make the amount for the furs. Anything else you’d like to add?”

  Martyn scanned the shelves. Empty. Empty. A few spare saddles. Hoes and shovels for planting in the spring. A rack of hats. Nothing he or Kayleigh needed.

  His gaze landed on the rack of cloth at the far end of the counter. The store had a few bolts of fabric, mostly cotton, in colors Kayleigh might call pretty. The thicker fabrics had probably sold out earlier in the winter.

  Picking out fabric for her seemed too…nice. Like he cared about her. Or thought about how she’d look in a dress made of that deep green cloth instead of the bloodstained, faded thing she wore on Sundays.

  He couldn’t get attached to her. Not someone like him. He wasn’t the settling down type like Leith, and it’d never work with Kayleigh anyway, not with her being a Christian and having standards.

  But when would she be able to buy fabric to replace the dress the Rovers had ruined? Based on the state of her cupboards when he’d stumbled across her, this all-too-helpful store owner wasn’t so helpful to her. If he deigned to do business with her, he probably overcharged her for the privilege.

  Besides, if Martyn won their deal—and he was halfway through conquering Ezekiel—Kayleigh would need something nicer than her father’s trousers and her worn dress to set her up in a new town.

  It was just a thank you. No, not even that. It was just a practical purchase. Most of the work of trapping had been Kayleigh’s, after all.

  Martyn pointed at the bolt of dark green fabric the color of spring pine trees. “I’d like a few yards of that. However much it takes to make the trade even.”

  After pulling it from the rack, the store owner unrolled what looked like several yards. Up close, Martyn spotted a faint floral pattern to the fabric. He bit back a groan. He wouldn’t be able to pass it off as a purchase for himself.

  The man sliced off a chunk and folded it into a neat square. The same way Martyn had, years ago, while minding his father’s store. The shopkeeper eyed him, not yet handing the fabric over. “You haven’t come across a girl living up there, have you?”

  Martyn stilled. He couldn’t have the conversation. Not until that receipt was all tallied and in his hand. He tried to relax agai
nst the counter, nonchalant. Uncaring. “I’ve run into her a couple of times while trapping. And scouting for the king.”

  Some of the hard look in the shopkeeper’s gaze faded at the emphasis Martyn placed on the word king. “Stay away from her, that’s my advice. She’s trouble.”

  “What did she do?” Martyn held his breath as the shopkeeper tallied the purchase and the furs on a slip of paper.

  “It’s not so much what she did, but who she is and what her uncle did.” The store owner held out the receipt, glanced around the store as if to make sure they were alone, then leaned closer. “She’s Respen’s niece.”

  Martyn gaped. Respen’s niece? His mind whirled. King Respen had never talked about a niece. Not that he would’ve shared that sort of thing with his Blades. “How did that happen?”

  “Her mother and Respen’s wife were sisters. A cursed family, they say. The older sister married John Ainsley, one of Lord Westin’s guards. She died while having the girl. A few years later, the younger sister married Respen. She also died in childbirth. God’s judgement on the lot of them, I say.”

  Martyn ground his teeth together. After spending so much time with Kayleigh and Renna, he’d forgotten what judgemental people most Christians were. They hated Kayleigh for this? She was Respen’s niece. So what? She wasn’t even related to him by blood. Only her aunt’s marriage.

  “The girl’s poor father. He didn’t know what he was getting into when he married the girl’s mother. Killed by his own brother-in-law’s Blades. A shame a good man like that got mixed up in such a sorry family.”

  Martyn gathered his pile of supplies. He had to leave. Now. If he listened to another minute of this man’s spouting, he’d put a knife in his chest. He wouldn’t even feel sorry about it. Picking up the sack of corn, he spun on his heels and stalked from the store.

  After loading the supplies into his saddlebags, Martyn nudged Wanderer into a canter. A few people had to dodge out of the way. Served them right. Served the whole confounded town right if the next blizzard caved in every house and store on top of their heads.

  When he left the last few houses behind, he indulged in several minutes of swearing. Best to get it all out before he returned to Kayleigh.

  It wasn’t enough. His blood still pumped hot in his veins by the time he reached Kayleigh’s cabin. He tore the saddlebags and the sack of corn from his saddle and stomped into the cabin.

  Kayleigh glanced up, her eyes widening. “I know I should’ve explained. I’m sorry. I understand, really, if you want to cancel our deal.”

  What was she talking about? He dumped the saddlebags on the table. Wait, did she think he was mad at her?

  She’d told the truth all along. She had done nothing to earn her town’s scorn. “Those ridiculous, hateful, judgmental…” He couldn’t think of a word mild enough to use in front of her. “They hate you because you’re related to Respen? You had nothing to do with who your aunt married.”

  She relaxed against the counter behind her, her shoulders shuddering with a released breath. “You’re not going to leave?”

  “Why in Acktar would I leave over something as idiotic as that?” The words that came to mind were ones that were sure to earn him a soap scrubbing if he said them. “That town of rattlesnakes is the one to blame.”

  She sighed. “They aren’t all that bad. They are sincere Christians, just blinded by their hurt.”

  “How can you defend them? After all they’ve done to you without reason?” Martyn dug his fingers into his hair. “Bad enough that there are men like…” he’d nearly said like me, but caught himself in time, “like the Blades running around. But worse are self-righteous hypocrites like that.”

  “They don’t know they’re acting like that. They sincerely believe they are living good, Christian lives. But people of faith can be blinded in some areas. Even David, a man after God’s own heart, thought he could get away with arranging for a man’s death to steal that man’s wife. We all have things we can’t see about ourselves.” Kayleigh wrapped her arms around her stomach.

  Martyn stiffened at the mention of David. He’d forged his way through that part of the Bible to keep his deal with Kayleigh, but it had been tough, especially with Brandi’s voice ringing in his head during the stories about Jonathan. He crossed his arms. “I still don’t see why that makes you defend them. You should be furious.”

  “I was angry. So angry I dressed in my father’s clothes, walked to Walden, got a guide to Eagle Heights, and joined the Resistance army. You know the real reason I did all that? I wanted to kill Respen. My own uncle.”

  If she’d been in the Riders instead of the foot soldiers, she might’ve gone into the Tower with King Keevan. She would’ve seen Martyn among the Blades, and she would know his darkest secret as he now knew hers. Not a comfortable thought. “You’re hardly the only person who plotted to kill Respen.”

  “No, but I was the closest thing he had to family. Of all people, I should’ve wanted to reach out to him. Instead, I wanted to kill him.” She shuddered and swiped at her face.

  Was she crying? She’d better not be. Martyn wasn’t about to let her cry on his shoulder.

  She sucked in a shaky breath. “At Eagle Heights, I was reminded what being a part of the community felt like, even if I was doing it under a false name and disguise. It made me hope I could return and be a part of them again.”

  But it hadn’t happened. Instead they’d scorned her. Good thing he wasn’t a Blade anymore, or he’d be highly tempted to march in there and show them what it truly meant to fear.

  He fought to shove the heat deep into his chest. Nothing he could say would make things any better for Kayleigh. Perhaps he could reassure her that Respen hadn’t died without someone trying to help him.

  But telling Kayleigh that would mean admitting he had been a Blade. Did he dare tell her? Would she still trust him after that?

  Somehow, her trust mattered. Maybe because he trusted her, trusted her even more now that he knew her secret.

  Kayleigh sighed and shook her head. “I still struggle with anger. It’s a good thing Respen is dead, or I might still want to kill him. And his Blades…I can’t forget what they did to Papa. And sometimes, I think I don’t have to forgive them since none of them are sorry for what they’ve done and would never ask for forgiveness.”

  Something curled in Martyn’s chest, hardened, and died. He couldn’t tell her the truth. When spring came, he would have to leave and never return. It would be best for both of them.

  Why had he expected any different? Leith and Renna claimed they had forgiven him, but they probably didn’t mean it deep down. How could they, after what Martyn did?

  Especially when he still nursed that bitter rock deep in his gut when he thought of Leith’s betrayal.

  Kayleigh drew in a deep breath and straightened. “We probably should unpack. What did you manage to get?”

  He snagged the saddlebags and pulled them from her reach. This wasn’t how he imagined this going. Then again, he’d been too angry leaving Flayin Falls to really think through how he would go about giving her the fabric without her getting the wrong impression.

  “Well, there was a slight problem. The general store was running low on supplies, so I got what I could.” Martyn pointed at the sack of corn meal. “But there was a little leftover, so I…”

  The saddlebags nearly slipped from his hands as he fumbled to open the one where he’d stuffed the fabric. Why were his fingers giving him so much trouble with this? It wasn’t like he was nervous. Then again, maybe he was nervous, but not about her liking it. Of course not. He was just nervous she’d get the wrong impression. That was it.

  “I, uh, got you this.” He yanked out the fabric and shoved it at her.

  She caught it. “Owen, it’s…it’s beautiful.”

  He forced himself not to wince at the fake name he’d given her. “They were your furs, and your dress got ruined because I wasn’t quick enough to stop the Rovers. That’s a
ll. It’s not much.”

  “It’s so much.” She hugged the fabric.

  What was a person supposed to say to that? Martyn swiveled his gaze from the saddlebags to the window. Anywhere but her.

  Kayleigh’s footsteps whispered closer. He glanced up just as she wrapped one arm around his waist and hugged him.

  Martyn held his breath. She was soft and warm. Like a sunbeam on a spring morning.

  He jerked away. He wasn’t made for sunbeams. He was the howling blizzard sweeping across the prairie and freezing everything it touched. Spinning on his heel, he stalked from the cabin.

  21

  Martyn stomped the mud from his boots on the front step. For the first time since the snow had melted, he’d found tracks, only hours old.

  They might be nothing. The trail could turn north to Eagle Heights or south to Nalgar Castle. He couldn’t tell from the tracks if they were Blades, Rovers, or innocent trappers.

  But something in the pit of Martyn’s stomach told him it wouldn’t be that simple. These tracks were headed west—a group of ten people—and that couldn’t be good. This time, he had to find something, even if he had to scour the entire Sheered Rock Hills to do it. If he was lucky, he might even have a good excuse to avoid Leith and Renna’s wedding in three and a half weeks.

  All he had to do was let Kayleigh know he’d be gone for a while, then he could leave.

  He knocked and stepped inside. The kitchen was empty, but the doors to both bedrooms were closed. “Kayleigh?”

  “Just a minute.” The new, solid oak door to her bedroom muffled her voice.

  Should he sit down to wait? He was losing daylight, and whoever had left those tracks gained more and more distance on him. He settled for standing, braced against the countertop.

  Kayleigh’s door opened. As she stepped from the room, Martyn’s breath lodged in his chest. She wore a dress made of the dark green floral fabric he’d gotten her early in the winter. The bodice hugged her torso, not in a tight, revealing way. More a prim, proper way. The skirt flared from her hips and swirled around her ankles. Her shoulder-length brown hair gleamed with hints of red and gold.