by Sofia Grey
Hoping he’d finished with me, I sidled back a step, but he noticed. He dropped his arm around my waist and hauled me close to his body, his fingers digging into my side. “Eh, my brothers. The bedding shall be good tonight, too.” My face burned, and I closed my eyes as they jeered and catcalled at each other. Stay quiet, I reminded myself. I won’t be here after the feast.
The moment when he released me couldn’t come quickly enough, but eventually he let go and continued undressing before sliding into the water to join his friends. I sat on the floor with the other slaves to wait, and ponder the possibility of stealing a weapon.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Jared
Jared had almost made it back to the slave quarters when he saw Kai hauling a pile of brushwood, easily three times bigger than she was. He made his way to her side, scooped some under his arm, and reorganised the load. The child looked exhausted.
“We’re getting out of here tonight, Kai. I need you to be ready for my signal at sundown.”
She stopped dead and stared at him, eyes wide. “How?”
“I’m setting fire to one of the stables, and then, in the confusion, we’re riding out. I’ve sorted out ponies for us. They’re in the top field.” He skipped over the freeing-the-ghardian part. He still had no idea how he’d pull that off. “I need you to help me loose the horses in the stable block, and then carry the saddles and bridles with me. It’s got to be tonight.”
He could read the uncertainty on her pinched face. She wiped a grubby hand across her eyes and pretended to adjust the bundle of wood. “I have nowhere to go. Where are you going?” Her whisper cut through him. How could he explain that he didn’t expect to survive the escape but, even if he did, he might get ripped out of this time period and thrown in a cell?
Kai touched his arm with her fingertips, her whisper becoming increasingly urgent. “Will I come with you, Wolf?”
“Surely you have family here?”
She shrugged. Her eyes beseeched him. “I was taken as a small child. I grew up in this household. I don’t know anything else. My family came from across the sea.” God. What could he tell her? The fingers tightened on his arm as he deliberated. “Please, Wolf. I could look after you. I could look after your…needs. Please take me with you.”
“Listen to me.” He hardened his voice. “You’re coming with us because you’re my friend, not for any other reason. I won’t treat you that way, Kai. I haven’t planned beyond getting out of here. We’ll worry about that later.”
A hint of a smile flashed across her face. “They’ll be feasting at sundown. Everyone will be in the banquet hall.”
“I know. I’ll start the fire in the yard then carry a taper to the stable block. You need to get the horses loose while I grab the saddles. If we get separated, we meet in the top field.”
She nodded but kept her hand on his arm. “I cannot express my thanks to you.”
He managed what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “It’s me who owes you, Kai. I won’t leave you behind.” He nodded to her and made his way back into the hall, assessing the height of the sun as he did so.
It was worth checking on the ghardian and seeing if his security had been increased, and so Jared made his way to the east wing. He hastened, as though running an errand. One quick walk by the cells and then he stopped dead. There was the guard, talking to another soldier at the far end of the corridor. Jared ducked into the outer cell. This could be his chance.
He hurried inside the open doorway, half expecting to see another guard already inside but finding the outer room empty. He peered around the doorframe. The guards were still talking and laughing together, but they might be there for just a minute or for half an hour. The cell door lay slightly open. He shoved at it with his shoulder and then lurched into the fetid cell. The ghardian—Marc—lifted his head. His eyes were dull but sharpened rapidly when he saw Jared.
“Lila?” He croaked the name through swollen lips.
Jared hesitated. How much should he tell him right now? “She’s safe at the moment.” This was too good an opportunity to miss, even if it did screw up his timing. He’d have to stash the ghardian somewhere until sundown, although God knew where. Swallowing his anxiety, he spoke. “Do you still have your stunner? The guard could be back any minute.”
“Yes. My arm.”
Jared’s hands were stiff and unwieldy, and he fumbled with the arm ring, cursing as he went. The stunner was beautifully disguised as a silver snake clipped to a metal arm ring; it was a miracle the guard hadn’t spotted it under the loose fitting sleeve.
“Hurry,” rasped Marc. “Footsteps.”
Shit. Jared heard them too. He pushed again at the clasp and tried to manipulate his fingers to open the tiny mechanism. Sweat trickled down his forehead, and he shook his head before it dripped into his eyes. Bloody Rowena. His hands were nearly useless at the moment.
Marc whispered, “Take the arm ring off. You can still use it like that.”
Would that be any easier?
Marc squirmed slightly, twisting his arm just a fraction, and just enough for Jared reach the hinge at the back. It was a larger clasp, but Jared couldn’t see it and had to work blindly.
His finger snagged on something.
The ring loosened and slipped down a short way.
He tried again.
The footsteps reached the outer room, and Jared heard the door bang shut. His eyes met Marc’s. This was the man Lila wanted and Jared had promised to save him. He shook his head again, droplets of moisture flying off, and pressed at the clasp once more. Come on!
The clasp dropped open, the arm ring almost slipping out of his hands, just as the guard walked into the cell.
There was a single frozen moment when the guard’s jaw dropped open, the man surprised by the sight of Jared with the prisoner. It was long enough. Wrenching the end cap off the stunner, Jared leaped forward. The guard carried a short sword on his hip, but in the time it took to drag it from its sheath, Jared had reached him.
In a move he’d practiced long ago, he raised his left arm as though to strike a blow. When the guard dodged and leaned away, Jared swiped with the stunner, contacted the man’s neck and zapped him. The guard jerked and gasped, the shock reverberating through his body, and Jared took advantage of that to zap him a second time.
Jared stared down at the unconscious man and tried to control his erratic breathing. Christ, that had been close. His right hand cramped, and he almost dropped the stunner. With slow, careful movements, he recapped it and slipped the arm ring around his own arm, to sit loosely above the elbow.
“We need to get out of here.” Jared wasn’t sure if he’d spoken aloud, but Marc seemed to think the same.
He tugged at the chains holding him. “Can you get me free?”
Jared sucked in a deep breath. Focus. He needed to focus. He remembered seeing the pincers in the outer room and he ran to fetch them; they were the easiest way to open the chain links on the manacles. It was agony, squeezing the pincers hard enough to open the links, and he felt fresh blood erupting across his palms, but eventually the ghardian was freed. Marc stumbled to the floor and cursed as his muscles complained, but between them they stripped the guard of his armor and weapons, and then hung the unconscious man in Marc’s place. Marc donned the metal breastplate, leather tunic and sandals, and snatched up the sword and matching daggers. They agreed the ghardian should keep the stunner. If Jared were seen with weaponry or jewelery, someone would notice. It was too risky for the moment.
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.
Chapter Forty
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 suc
ked 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.
Chapter Forty-One
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.