He appeared, sweeping into the room with a commanding grace only he possessed. Keshel.
His dark, angular eyes met hers, revealing no slight flicker of surprise. He’d already seen Marai’s return. The others watched with bated breath as he approached Marai on the rock. She adjusted her gloves. She’d always hated the intensity of his gaze on her, how distant and solemn he was. Now, he looked at her in disapproval, as if he already knew each detestable crime she’d committed. He probably did.
“It’s good to see you, Marai,” he said, but his tone lacked conviction. “We so rarely have visitors who don’t wish to cause us harm.”
By the wariness in his voice, Marai guessed Keshel wasn’t entirely sure she wasn’t there to cause trouble. Marai squirmed. Had he seen her do something?
“Loquacious as always,” said Leif under his breath and Aresti sniggered.
Marai shot them both a glare, which spurred on their chuckling.
“Why don’t we all give Marai time, and let her explain things when she’s ready?” Thora suggested, and Marai melted with appreciation. Thora put a hand on her shoulder and gently squeezed. Her fingers then hovered over Marai’s skull, and Thora sucked in a short breath. “Why didn’t you tell me you have a concussion?”
Raife stepped forward, his face darkening. “How did you get a concussion?”
Marai averted her eyes. She clamped her mouth shut. Resigned to not getting an answer, Raife sighed through his nose.
Thora went to work, and slowly, the pain ebbed away. Marai’s vision sharpened. The ringing in her ears stopped. The fist-like pounding against her skull subsided.
Leif kicked a rock across the cavern floor. “Marai waltzes in here, after years away, and you expect us to wait for her to tell us anything? She owes us an explanation.”
The silence was deafening as they stared at her. There was no skirting around this, but how could Marai find the words to explain?
“You escaped,” Keshel said.
Marai’s breath caught, stomach flip-flopping, as her anxiety returned. How much does he know?
“Escaped what?” Thora asked, fingers tensing against Marai’s skull.
“The Tacorn dungeon and then the pirate ship,” continued Keshel.
Marai met his cold gaze. Everything. He knew everything. He knew she’d been nearly tortured to death in the Tacornian castle fortress of Dul Tanen by a demented king. And that she’d once again come face-to-face with her worst nightmare in Captain Slate Hemming. The ring she’d stolen from him grew heavier in her pocket. Her fingertips turned numb.
“Why were you in the Tacorn dungeon?” Kadiatu gasped, amber eyes wide. Even Aresti and Leif seemed interested; their heads cocked to the side.
“I killed some soldiers. Tacorn didn’t appreciate that.”
That was an understatement. In the past few weeks, Marai had killed at least forty soldiers. She hated the shudder she saw from Thora and Kadiatu. She hated to see them come to their own conclusions about her story and why she’d taken those lives. But Marai struggled to find the words to explain. How could she admit all her failings? How could she reveal those demons inside her? If they’d flinched at the deaths of brutish Tacorn soldiers, what would they do if they knew the full length of Marai’s tally?
“You . . . you killed people?” Thora asked, stepping back from Marai.
Fear gripped her. If they kicked Marai out, she had no one left. She’d be alone for good.
“She was protecting the Nevandian prince,” said Keshel. “He paid for Marai’s services.”
“Why would he hire you?” Aresti asked, peering down at Marai as if she was an insignificant insect.
Marai glared at her. “I didn’t come here to tell you his story.”
No, she wouldn’t talk about Ruenen. Not yet. The wounds were still too raw. Her actions in that alley filled her with overwhelming shame. It hadn’t been half a day since she’d last seen him through the portal, surrounded by King Rayghast’s bounty hunters. And she’d run away, leaving him to their mercy.
Had Keshel seen that in his visions? Seen her call upon dark magic?
“I’m here because I . . .” Marai stopped. She didn’t know what to say. She couldn’t bear to see the horror on Thora’s face.
I need you. I need to feel safe.
And then, a deeper chasm cracked wide within her.
I want to be somewhere Ruenen has never been. Here, I won’t see the memory of him in every tree, snowflake, or grain of sand.
Instead, she hung her head and stared at her gloved hands. When she looked back up, Keshel’s eyes were on her fingers.
“I’m sorry I stayed away so long,” she said to him first.
Keshel blinked in acknowledgment of her apology.
Kadiatu knelt in front of Marai and took her hands. “We’re all glad you’re back.”
Marai didn’t deserve her kindness. She was a murderer. A deserter. She’d brought danger into their home with the cursed ring and dark magic. Kadiatu might not even forgive her for that.
Aresti scrunched up her nose at Marai. “You need a bath. You smell terrible.”
“Let that salve soak in for an hour, then you can go to the river and wash,” said Thora, all business again. Whatever shock she’d shown was gone. “And be more careful out in the sun. You’re so fair, you’ll burn easily.”
“You can wear my hat,” Kadiatu said, and popped a silly wide-brimmed straw hat across Marai’s head. “I weaved it myself from the plants by the river.”
“It suits you,” said Aresti, grinning.
