“Is that too tight?” Tyrus asked as he wound the strip of clean cloth around Ashyn’s arm. The “nick” had turned out to be a gash, much deeper than she thought.
She shook her head. As Tyrus fastened it, Ronan paced, occasionally aiming glares Guin’s way. The girl sat at the base of a tree, her knees drawn up, arms wrapped around them. They’d escaped the bounty hunters—the surviving ones, that is—and were now catching their breath and tending to injuries.
“Why did you stop him?” Guin asked Tyrus. “He was running at me. If you hadn’t cut him, he wouldn’t have turned on you and Ashyn wouldn’t have been hurt.”
“So it’s Tyrus’s fault Ashyn was injured?” Ronan snapped.
“No, it’s my fault,” she said softly. “I’m asking why the prince didn’t let him cut me down. Why Ashyn didn’t leave me there.”
“That is the stupidest—” Ronan began.
Tyrus cut him short with a raised hand and said, his voice gentle, “I could stop him so I did. Ashyn could help so she did.”
“I wouldn’t have done the same for you. Either of you.”
Ashyn looked at the girl, hugging her knees, her gaze fixed somewhere on the ground between them. She’d said the words not with defiance but quietly, as if she was still working through the scenario in her mind.
“Sometimes that doesn’t matter,” Tyrus said as he tied off the bandage and stood. “For some people, that doesn’t matter.”
“But in a group, it matters.” Ronan strode over. “Guin’s right. She wouldn’t have done that for us, and she almost got us killed. We can’t have someone like that. Not now. She’s deadweight. She eats our food, drinks our water, slows our pace, and requires our protection.”
“We can’t just leave her—” Ashyn began.
“By the roadside? No. As tempting as that might be. When we near the next town, we ought to send her on her way with a few silver. She’ll be fine. She’s a healthy young woman of marriageable age. We’ll give her a story, and the villagers will take her in.”
“So she can tell them where we’re headed?” Tyrus said.
Guin jumped to her feet at that. “I would never—”
“How does your arm feel?” Tyrus asked Ashyn. “Can you move it?”
She nodded. “How are you?”
He fingered a fresh gash on his chin, below the earlier one. “It stings, but I’ll live.” He tilted his head, still touching the cut. “Do you think it will scar? I could better intimidate my enemies if I had a scar.”
“Tyrus . . .” Ashyn gave him a hard look.
He lowered his hand and sobered. “I’ve always said I aspired to nothing except to make a name for myself in battle. The goddess has granted my wish. At least now I don’t ever have to worry about my brothers seeing me as a threat. They won’t bother killing me. The rest of the empire, though . . .”
He caught Ashyn’s eye. “Don’t give me that look, Ash. I’m not being flippant. I’m dealing with this the best I can. I’m sure the shock will set in soon enough. Until then, I need to make plans.”
“You must tell your father the truth,” Guin said.
“Yes, and while I would love to think he does not truly believe me capable of what Simeon has claimed, I cannot rely on that. I’ll worry about clearing my name later. For now, I’m going after Moria.”
“Because you think she might have done as they say?” Guin said. “Betrayed you?”
“Not for a moment. But she’s being held by Alvar Kitsune, as his prisoner, and if she gets any chance to escape, she will. She’ll flee to the nearest village, where she’ll discover—”
“—that she’s been branded a traitor,” Ashyn said, her breath catching. “She’ll have no way of knowing it. If she escapes and identifies herself to anyone—”
“She won’t,” Tyrus said. “Because I’m going to get to her first.”
Before they left, Tyrus insisted they rest and recover from the fight and flight. Not that he himself rested. He prowled about the perimeter of their camp with Daigo, clearly anxious to be gone. Ashyn found them in a small gully. Tyrus was crouched, peering into a rabbit burrow.
“I’d smoke them out the other end if I could trust you to catch one,” he was saying to Daigo.
The wildcat busied himself cleaning a paw.
“Or you could smoke them out,” Tyrus said. “And I’ll catch one.”
Ashyn laughed as she walked over. “You’re wasting your time.”
“On the contrary,” he said, straightening. “I’m wearing him down. Eventually, he will tire of not having fresh meat.”
Tova walked over to sniff at the hole. Daigo hissed and batted him with a paw, as if to say, That’s mine.
“See?” Tyrus said. “He’s considering it. Soon he’ll realize there’s no sense resisting. I’m more patient—and persistent—than he is stubborn.”
“I need to speak to you.”
She climbed down the small gully and seated herself on the edge. Tyrus sat beside her. Tova settled in at her feet while Daigo set off prowling.
“You must let Ronan leave,” she said.
“He’s free to go at any time, Ash. If I haven’t made that clear—”
“I’m sorry. I misspoke. I meant that you must make him leave. Send him onward to the city so he can be with his brother and sister. Otherwise he’ll stay at your side until you’ve found Moria and cleared your names.”
“Which is unlikely to be anytime soon,” he murmured. “All right, then. I’ll insist he continue on.”
“I’m going, too.”
Tyrus turned sharply. “What?”
“My priority is always my sister. But you can best search for her on your own, in disguise. I will go to the city to seek information that might help you.”
“If you walk into the imperial city—”
“I’m not so foolish as to stroll in and announce myself.” She gave him a look, which Tova seconded with a grunt. “But even if I were caught, there are no rumors about me.” None at all, which was, admittedly, a little disheartening. She had once again faded into obscurity beside her sister’s supposed wild deeds. “I could convince them I was not at the battlefield, that I know not what happened.”
“And Simeon? He clearly started these stories to punish you.”
“I’m not convinced of that. Part of his reason, it seems, was hurt over my rejection, but there must be more to it.”
“Still . . .”
“If it came to it, I would convince him that he’d misinterpreted my rejection. As much as I might hate deception, there are times that warrant it. However, I’m not my sister, Tyrus. I have no wish to defy or tempt fate. I’ll quietly gather what information I can, while Ronan tends to his siblings. I will also get word to your mother, tell her you are well.”
“I cannot ask you to endanger yourself, for me or my mother—”
“I will if I can. I know you are worried about her. It’s settled, then? We part?”
Tyrus gazed out as he considered it. “As much as I dislike the idea—and I suspect Moria would strangle me for agreeing to it—I trust your discretion and your judgment, Ash. There’s only one thing I ask of you.”
“What’s that?”
“Take Guin.”
When Ashyn laughed, Tyrus said, “I’m serious. I can hunt for Moria much better if it’s only me and Daigo.”
“I know,” she said. “I will take her.”
“I’ve done something wrong,” Ronan grumbled as he shoved his spare tunic into his pack.
“You know you haven’t.” Ashyn handed him his sleeping blanket.
“See? Even you’re trying to get rid of me. I’ve done something.”
She sighed. “Yes, Ronan, you have. I’m sorry, but it must be said. You’ve committed a grave offense. You wouldn’t go back to check on your brother and sister until Tyrus put his boot to your arse.”
His brows lifted at her choice of words. Just because she rarely used strong language did not mean she did not know it. In fact, she’d wager her vocabulary for profanity exceeded his own. That’s what came of extensive reading . . . and growing up around warriors and traders.
“You know Tyrus is right,” she continued. “You ought to check on them, and you want to check on them. You just needed . . .”
“A kick in the arse?”
“Exactly.” She rolled dried fruit and meat in a cloth.
“He’s making a mistake,” he said.
“Perhaps.”
“There’s no perhaps about it, Ash. How will you survive without me?”
Her brows shot up.
“Will you steal for your supper? Will he? I’m sure Guin would try, for a lark, but she’d be more likely to end up with twenty lashes than food.”
“We have food. We have money, too, thanks to you.”
“It’s not enough.”
“It will be.” When there’s only one person who needs it. She didn’t say that, of course. As far as Ronan knew, he was leaving alone. He wouldn’t readily agree to take her to the city and they’d no time to argue.
“What if you’re attacked? I’m sorry, Ash, but as much as you’ve been practicing with your blade—”
“I’m not as good as my sister. I know that.”
“I was going to say that you’re not as good as me.”
She smiled. “Of course.”
“And Guin is less than useless.”
“I can hear you,” Guin called from the fire.
“Good. Perhaps it will spur you to remedy the situation,” he called back. Then he said to Ashyn, “I’m concerned—”
“Yes, we know,” Tyrus said, walking over with a cloth in hand. “You’re still leaving. It’s a two-day ride to the city. Take a day to check on your siblings. If you wish to return after that, you’ll go here.”
He held out the cloth. On it was a map drawn with burnt wood. “Once I have Moria, I’ll need a place to stay, and a powerful ally to take my case to my father. If you’d asked me a fortnight ago who I could trust, I’d have listed name upon name. But it’s not until your life and the lives of others are at stake that you reevaluate. Harshly reevaluate. My list has been reduced to one. When I reached my twelfth summer, I was sent to live with Goro Okami until my thirteenth. He knows me. His family knows me. While he is a loyal subject, he is not slavishly devoted to my father. He has a sharp mind, and a sharp mind questions before accepting. He’ll listen to my side of the story.”
“I will return,” Ronan said. “So you want me to meet you there?”
“In the area. I’ll want you to stay clear until I am absolutely certain it’s safe. I’ve marked an inn on the map, just beyond Lord Okami’s compound. Wait for me there.”