tonight, but in the morning they would escort her to Mahanaim, where she would be forced to marry the pig.
Or they might attack her.
She would keep silent and be thankful to sleep on the ground. The grass would be heavenly compared to a lifetime of sleeping on a featherbed next to a cockatrice. She suddenly realized why she disliked Khai Mageia so—he reminded her of the prince.
Vrell found a flat patch of earth a few yards from Jax and stomped the dead grass stalks flat. She got down on her knees and brushed away the broken blades and bits of sagebrush until she had a clear place to sleep. When she was satisfied, she glanced at the men. Jax had lain down. Khai was digging in his pack, his longsword stretched out behind him like a third leg. She strode away from the camp. She found a place where some chaparral obscured her view enough that the men would not see her use her latest privy.
When she returned to the shelter, Khai’s bedroll lay in the spot she had cleared to sleep in. She gasped. “What is the meaning—” She stopped herself before she spoke above her station.
One side of Khai’s mouth curved into a grin. “I thank you for clearing a place for me, boy. Saved me some work. About time you made yourself useful.”
Vrell seethed. Clearly that had not been a place for Khai. He had seen her clear it when Jax had told her the grass was softer than… Oh, why bother to think on it? The man had done it on purpose, and she would not let him see her anger. She turned her nose in the air and started trampling a new spot on the other side of Jax.
Then she realized a boy—especially a stray boy—would probably not put his nose in the air, so she slouched down and stuffed her hands in her pockets. Yes. Much more like a sulking boy.
She lay down in her earthen bed and curled into a ball on her side. The bitter chaparral smell filled her nostrils. She watched Khai pour red powder into a small, wooden bowl. He added a drop of water from his water skin and stirred it with a stick. What was he doing?
* * *
A sharp kick in the side woke her. A dark form loomed above.
She cringed as Khai sneered, “Up, sloth!” Then he mumbled, “What Master Hadar sees in you is a mystery.”
Vrell blinked wildly and scrambled back to avoid another kick. The sharp, dead grass scratched her palms. It was dark. Jax already sat atop his festrier and held the torch high. He held the reins to Vrell’s horse in his other hand. Nickel was already saddled and ready to go. Vrell sat up. Her body ached from so much riding yesterday and from sleeping on the hard ground.
She yawned and mounted her horse. She took a drink from her water skin, only to find it nearly empty. It had probably been unwise to use it for washing. What would she do if she ran out of water? Khai’s courser carried two jugs for the horses, but she had no desire to have her fingers broken.
Vrell’s eyelids were heavy in the darkness. She was thankful she did not have to walk. Occasionally she remembered to worry about slouching in her saddle like a boy, but she was too tired to keep up the concern. They rode for hours with only the clomping of hooves and the crickets’ song for company. Soon the darkness faded and the endless savanna lit up with the dull, grey dawn.
The air was cool, for now, and Vrell took a long cleansing breath. Her surroundings looked no better today than yesterday, however. Sagebrush and chaparral. A few juniper trees squatting here and there. But no streams, no ocean, no vibrant colors. With each step her horse took, the sun rose higher, the sky turned bluer, and Vrell grew more and more thirsty.
And now her water was gone.
Khai knew of Vrell’s bloodvoicing gift. Jax probably did as well. Maybe there was no point in hiding it. She spotted Jax’s red head scarf ahead. If she could get him aside, she could ask him how to bloodvoice someone directly. Then she could contact Mother. The instant Mother
Or they might attack her.
She would keep silent and be thankful to sleep on the ground. The grass would be heavenly compared to a lifetime of sleeping on a featherbed next to a cockatrice. She suddenly realized why she disliked Khai Mageia so—he reminded her of the prince.
Vrell found a flat patch of earth a few yards from Jax and stomped the dead grass stalks flat. She got down on her knees and brushed away the broken blades and bits of sagebrush until she had a clear place to sleep. When she was satisfied, she glanced at the men. Jax had lain down. Khai was digging in his pack, his longsword stretched out behind him like a third leg. She strode away from the camp. She found a place where some chaparral obscured her view enough that the men would not see her use her latest privy.
When she returned to the shelter, Khai’s bedroll lay in the spot she had cleared to sleep in. She gasped. “What is the meaning—” She stopped herself before she spoke above her station.
One side of Khai’s mouth curved into a grin. “I thank you for clearing a place for me, boy. Saved me some work. About time you made yourself useful.”
Vrell seethed. Clearly that had not been a place for Khai. He had seen her clear it when Jax had told her the grass was softer than… Oh, why bother to think on it? The man had done it on purpose, and she would not let him see her anger. She turned her nose in the air and started trampling a new spot on the other side of Jax.
Then she realized a boy—especially a stray boy—would probably not put his nose in the air, so she slouched down and stuffed her hands in her pockets. Yes. Much more like a sulking boy.
She lay down in her earthen bed and curled into a ball on her side. The bitter chaparral smell filled her nostrils. She watched Khai pour red powder into a small, wooden bowl. He added a drop of water from his water skin and stirred it with a stick. What was he doing?
* * *
A sharp kick in the side woke her. A dark form loomed above.
She cringed as Khai sneered, “Up, sloth!” Then he mumbled, “What Master Hadar sees in you is a mystery.”
Vrell blinked wildly and scrambled back to avoid another kick. The sharp, dead grass scratched her palms. It was dark. Jax already sat atop his festrier and held the torch high. He held the reins to Vrell’s horse in his other hand. Nickel was already saddled and ready to go. Vrell sat up. Her body ached from so much riding yesterday and from sleeping on the hard ground.
She yawned and mounted her horse. She took a drink from her water skin, only to find it nearly empty. It had probably been unwise to use it for washing. What would she do if she ran out of water? Khai’s courser carried two jugs for the horses, but she had no desire to have her fingers broken.
Vrell’s eyelids were heavy in the darkness. She was thankful she did not have to walk. Occasionally she remembered to worry about slouching in her saddle like a boy, but she was too tired to keep up the concern. They rode for hours with only the clomping of hooves and the crickets’ song for company. Soon the darkness faded and the endless savanna lit up with the dull, grey dawn.
The air was cool, for now, and Vrell took a long cleansing breath. Her surroundings looked no better today than yesterday, however. Sagebrush and chaparral. A few juniper trees squatting here and there. But no streams, no ocean, no vibrant colors. With each step her horse took, the sun rose higher, the sky turned bluer, and Vrell grew more and more thirsty.
And now her water was gone.
Khai knew of Vrell’s bloodvoicing gift. Jax probably did as well. Maybe there was no point in hiding it. She spotted Jax’s red head scarf ahead. If she could get him aside, she could ask him how to bloodvoice someone directly. Then she could contact Mother. The instant Mother
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