Beneath the Forsaken City by C. E. Laureano

he’d never make it more than a few feet toward the outer wall.
    Besides, now that Haldor knew of Aine’s existence, her safety depended on Conor’s cooperation.
    So he cooperated, ignoring the searching looks that said Haldor expected him to break their agreement at any moment. Instead, Conor patiently taught his pupil to write Norin words with the common alphabet until he deemed him ready to begin learning vocabulary.
    “We’ll start with verbs,” Conor said, pulling a new tablet toward him. “Simple actions.”
    Haldor stared at him as if trying to peer into his thoughts.
    Conor repeated the Seareann words with their Norin counterparts and waited expectantly.
    Abruptly, Haldor stood and strode across the room to his chest, where he retrieved a scrap of parchment. He returned to Conor and handed it to him.
    “Can you read it?”
    Conor’s heart leapt as he unfolded it. Angular Norin lettering stretched from right to left across the page. He read silently, translating in his head.
    “This settlement doesn’t have her?”
    “No. But that is the nearest settlement. It will be days until a message returns from the others.”
    Conor nodded, not sure whether he was more relieved or disappointed. Perhaps Aine had escaped the hands of the Norin raiders after all. Or perhaps she had not drifted this far south.
    Or perhaps she is dead.
    “Thank you.” Conor rerolled the message and handed it back to Haldor. “Shall we continue? ‘I go. He goes. She goes.’”
    Surprise crossed Haldor’s face. He sat beside Conor, ignoring the tablet. “Tell me about this woman of yours.”
    Conor jerked his head up. What could he say about Aine? He hardly wanted to rave about her beauty, lest it inspireHaldor to seek her himself. Nor could he say anything about her unusual gifts.
    Finally, he said, “I loved her from the first moment I saw her and every single minute we were apart. She is better and braver than I could ever hope to be.”
    Something glimmered in the depths of the Norin warrior’s pale eyes. Was that pain he saw?
    Before Conor could be sure, Haldor turned away. “Leave now. We will continue tomorrow.”
    Conor obeyed, confused, and went to the door, where Ulaf stood waiting for him. He put his hands out to submit to the bonds, but he couldn’t keep his eyes from drifting to the hilt of Ulaf’s sword, within reach just beneath the man’s left arm. He raised his gaze and smiled.
    The Sofarende warrior yanked the ropes around his wrists, so tight his fingers instantly went numb. Foolish . He should be trying to lull them into complacency, not reminding them of the Fíréin’s reputation to soothe his own ego. That little bit of folly could end up getting him killed.
    Conor flexed his hands in a futile effort to get blood moving back into his fingers while Ulaf nudged him forward. He walked meekly back toward the prisoners’ hut.
    “You think they will let your woman go?” Ulaf sneered. “Haldor may send the letters, but they do not have to listen.”
    Conor’s steps faltered, but he kept moving forward.
    “I think you would not be so concerned if she were not beautiful. Do you know what happens to a beautiful slave?”
    Ulaf proceeded to detail his vilest imaginings while Conor struggled to keep his fury in check. The warrior was just trying to goad him into making a move, giving him an excuse to beat or kill him.
    “And then when she’s used and broken, they will kill her slowly and feed her to the dogs.”
    Conor spun so quickly that Ulaf jumped back and had his sword half free of its sheath before he realized he wasn’t under attack.
    “I am here because of her. If you convince me she is dead, do you think that makes me less dangerous or more?”
    Ulaf blinked. Conor turned slowly and began walking again, not caring whether the Sofarende followed.
    That night, in line for a bowl of watery soup, Talfryn nudged him with his elbow. “You look troubled. What happened?”
    “Nothing