Brisa untied Kerry’s hands, her silly ribbons drifting down. “Your hair’s all tangled. Would you like me to brush it out for you? I’m very gentle. My girlfriend Becky loves it when I brush her hair.”
Without asking permission, Brisa picked up one of Kerry’s braids.
Kerry wanted to jerk her hair free of Brisa’s paws. But she held herself back. Her threats had upset them, but not intimidated them. She glanced at the bounty hunter with the rifle on his knee, and had to admit that his threat was far more effective. All Kerry had accomplished was to make them hate her.
Wait, not all of them.
Since the stick failed, let’s go back to carrots.
Kerry forced herself to sound grateful. “Yes, please.”
Her reward was a completely genuine-looking smile. Kerry realized that Brisa wasn’t engaged in any ploy: she felt sincerely sorry for Kerry. What a fool! And what a stroke of luck for Kerry.
Kerry made herself sit still as Brisa undid her braids, then brushed out the tangles. The light tug was soothing on her scalp. She had to admit that Brisa did have a gentle touch.
Kerry liked it enough to make the next step easier. “I’m sorry I made those threats. I’d never hurt a child.”
“I knew you were bluffing,” Brisa said. Jennie snorted with disbelief as Brisa went on, “We won’t hurt you, either. We just want to get Ross back.”
Kerry clenched her jaw to keep a laugh from escaping. She dangled another carrot. “You are gentle. Does your girlfriend have long hair like mine?”
“No, it’s shoulder-length, but very fine, so it tangles easily. It’s yellow as corn—no, yellow as sunlight!” Brisa gave a dreamy sigh.
“Oh, that does sound pretty,” Kerry said sweetly. “What’s she like?”
Brisa looked even dreamier. Love could turn otherwise intelligent people into babbling nitwits, but Brisa had obviously been one to begin with. What sensible person would sympathize with an enemy?
“Becky is the sweetest, kindest, nicest person in Las Anclas.” Brisa’s voice dripped with mindless adoration. “And smart, too! She’s our doctor’s apprentice . . .”
Kerry listened carefully for useful information. Becky sounded even more sentimental than Brisa. A wounded animal or insect couldn’t limp into Las Anclas without Becky trying to fix it. A girl like that might be talked into releasing a harmless, homesick princess.
“Oh, your ear is bleeding,” Brisa exclaimed. “Does it hurt?”
“She’s bleeding?” Jennie roughly grabbed Kerry’s shoulder and held her hair out of the way. “Did you tear your earrings out?”
Kerry longed to retort, No, they grew wings and flapped away. She forced herself to say, “They got ripped out in the fight.” She sensed Jennie’s disbelief, and added, “You did all dog-pile on top of me.”
Jug Ears stood up. “Whether she left them deliberately or accidentally, the result is the same. A search party is sure to find them. It could be right on top of us. We should ride tonight.”
Jennie dropped Kerry’s hair. To Kerry’s annoyance, she carefully wiped her filthy fingers on her equally filthy clothes, her mouth curled in disgust. Then she turned to Jug Ears, her muscles tense. The way their gazes met then averted sharpened Kerry’s interest. Hatred? No, not the way Jug Ears looked back at Jennie.
“None of us have slept since the night before yesterday,” Jennie said. “If we ride out now, we’ll be so tired, we might as well be drunk. It’s safer to stay here. We’ll set an extra guard at a wide perimeter.”
Something had happened between those two, Kerry thought. How could she use it? She schooled her face as her captors began eating their revolting rations and tending one other’s wounds. While Kerry choked down the jerky, she surreptitiously studied her captors.
Brisa was clearly the weakest link. Unfortunately, she was also the youngest in the party, and unlikely to be put in sole charge of Kerry. The bounty hunter didn’t seem to have any weaknesses in the literal sense, but anyone who switched sides once might do it again. Maybe she could bribe him, if she got him alone. From their body language, Jennie and Jug Ears definitely had history. But they were both so wary and tough that Kerry didn’t see how to translate that into weakness.
The gray rat, which Kerry couldn’t help finding cute, seemed to belong to Beanpole. Other than that, she didn’t have a sense of Beanpole at all. In fact, she couldn’t recall him saying a single word.
Then he spoke. “Jennie, you knew—”
Kerry gnawed on her jerky, pretending she wasn’t listening. He had a different accent from the others, one she didn’t recognize.
“Knew what, Yuki?” Jennie asked in a weary voice.
Yuki glanced at Kerry.
Jennie moved as if she was getting up, then sank down with a sigh, obviously too tired to walk out of earshot. Good.
Jennie offered a bit of tortilla to the rat. “Yes, I knew. But I was sure he didn’t know, so I didn’t say anything. He doesn’t know, right?”
Kerry listened, fascinated. What in the world were they talking about?
Yuki shook his head. “He would have told me. What should we say?”
“Maybe the best thing would be for you to find him as soon as we get back, and tell him yourself,” Jennie said.
Yuki stroked the rat. “He’s been having such a hard time. I hate to do that to him.”
Brisa looked from one to the other, then said brightly, “You’re talking about Paco, right?”
Paco! Kerry forced herself not to react. After Deirdre had been killed, and Father had told Kerry that he’d give Las Anclas to her, he’d said, Then you’ll have to decide what to do about your brother, the one they call Paco. Do you have any ideas?
Uncertain of the correct answer—Give him an important position? Execute him? Test his loyalty, and decide based on that?—she’d said she was still thinking it over.
Instead of answering Brisa, Yuki gazed at Jennie. “Is that why they wouldn’t let him on this mission? They were hoping he’d never find out?”
Jug Ears spoke from across the campfire. “Sera never said a word about it.”
Of course his traitor of a mother didn’t tell anyone, Kerry thought scornfully. Then they’d kill Paco before he could go ally with his father. She hoped they wouldn’t kill him now, or there went her best bet for an ally. But Kerry had nothing to lose by pointing out that she already knew, so long as she wasn’t hostile about it. The reactions might be illuminating.
Kerry cleared her throat, noting how their attention snapped her way. “I’m looking forward to meeting my half-brother.”
She enjoyed their reactions. Brisa was the best: a piece of jerky actually fell out of her mouth. Jennie and Jug Ears started, then glared at Kerry. Even the bounty hunter blinked. Only Yuki didn’t react at all.
The rat broke the silence. With a happy squeak, it scurried up to grab Brisa’s fallen jerky.
Brisa took another piece. “Would you like some water, Princess?”
“Yes, please.” Kerry responded with the politeness that Min Soo had drilled into her. Let’s see if it actually works.
Brisa handed a cup to Kerry. “You live in a palace, right? Is it beautiful?”
Kerry eyed Brisa’s ridiculous pink ribbons. “My mother’s rooms are especially beautiful. The carpets are the color of pink roses and soft as petals.”
Jennie made a disgusted noise, and got up to collect the dishes. Jug Ears drew her aside, saying, “Do you have a moment?”
They walked out of earshot, leaving Yuki sitting there. He hadn’t moved, not even a muscle in his face, since Kerry had mentioned her half-brother.
He was obviously concerned about Paco. Were they close friends? Boyfriends? Kerry would have to find out. But for now, she’d focus on the easiest target.
In her best Encouragement Tone, Kerry said, “So, Brisa. Tell me more about Becky.”
Chapter Twenty-Two. Gold Point.
Ross
The gates of Gold Point loomed ah
ead, lit by the setting sun. Ross bent his gaze to Sally’s silver mane so he wouldn’t have to see the gleaming skulls. The guards joked back and forth, clearly happy to be home.
Santiago had never stopped chattering, though his voice was wearing out. “Kerry and I will have been dating for two years next month. The fifteenth is our anniversary.” He took a drink of water. “I don’t know what I can get a princess on a soldier’s salary.”
Kerry will like anything you give her, Ross thought. I’d like a rusty bolt if Mia gave it to me.
“Though they say it’s the thought that counts.” Santiago’s voice was so hoarse that Ross could barely understand him. Ross listened absently, in case Santiago let any useful information slip, but so far it had all been about his home and family. Ross knew everyone’s names and ages, even down to the pets.
Conversations died abruptly when a commotion around Voske resolved into individual voices.
“Kerry didn’t come back,” someone said.
“The princess is missing!”
Voske’s voice rose above the hubbub. “Assemble all scout teams, duty and liberty. North Companies One and Two as well. Comb every path and arroyo between here and the ruined city. And around Gold Point, in case she decided to loop around town and ran into trouble. Send a medic with each team. Move!”
Santiago pressed forward, trying to catch Voske’s attention. “I’ll go! Sire, I’ll go!” No one heard his raspy croak.
And no one seemed to be paying any mind to Ross. This could be his chance. He quietly slipped off his horse and took a step to the side, trying to blend in with the milling soldiers.
A huge hand gripped his shoulder. “I’ve got the prisoner,” a man shouted.
“Santiago, take our guest home,” Voske said.
The sinking rays of the sun sharpened the grim angles of his face. His voice was soft and even, but the way the tired soldiers snapped to unnerved alertness made Ross’s neck tighten.
Santiago hustled Ross into his room, then ran off, looking frantic. Ross wondered what could have happened to Kerry. The guards had said she was an excellent rider. He hoped she hadn’t been killed, and was surprised at his own thought. She’d threatened him, but she’d also noticed when he had a headache and gotten him medicine. She’d been fun to spar with. He hoped she’d turn up—for her own sake, and for Santiago.
It had been a strange end to a strange trip. Ross had been ready to make a show of refusing to prospect, then let himself be threatened or bribed into walking in—assuming the singing trees would let him in—evading the guards Voske was sure to post, and making his way back to Las Anclas. Instead, Voske had told him it was only a scouting trip, and they’d returned to Gold Point.
Now Ross was again trapped behind iron bars. He sat beneath a window to feel the night air and picked up one of Deirdre’s books, to practice his reading and put off falling asleep. Most nights he woke up time and again, muscles rigid, drenched in sweat, from a dream of cave-ins or singing trees or Luis’s bloody hands. But worse than the nightmares was awakening to the knowledge that he was a prisoner, locked up in his enemy’s house, alone.
He read the same paragraph three times without taking in any of its meaning, but he couldn’t bear to lie down on a mattress so soft that it oozed around his body like quicksand, beneath the looming ceiling. He turned off the lights and curled up on the floor, his face toward the open window.
*
The sound of his door opening made him leap to his feet, scrabbling for weapons that he didn’t have.
The blue light of dawn illuminated Voske, his face in shadow, his hair glittering. “Is the bed not to your satisfaction?”
Ross pressed his back against the wall, his heart pounding. Voske had never come into his room before.
Voske closed the door. “I believe that Tom Preston is behind my daughter’s disappearance. I expect the next step will be to propose a hostage exchange.”
The light shifted on Voske’s face as he glanced out the window. “How much are you worth to Las Anclas?”
Nothing, Ross thought, but kept silent.
“Well?” Voske said, studying Ross’s face.
Jennie would want to rescue him. And Mia. Ross could imagine them trying, but he couldn’t imagine them kidnapping Kerry. And Mr. Preston certainly wouldn’t stir himself for Ross’s sake.
As if Voske had read his mind, he said, “So you think this wasn’t about you?”
“I don’t know what it’s about.”
“Maybe Las Anclas didn’t value you, but I know what you’re worth. Santiago will meet you after breakfast. Dress in your best clothes. You’re attending his cousin’s quinceañera.” Voske left, closing the door softly behind him.
The Santiago who collected Ross seemed like a different person. There was no smile, no chatter about the Brat Patrol, no talk at all as he escorted Ross toward the garrison. He looked so miserable that Ross gave up on his resolve to keep silent.
“Did you go looking for Kerry?” Ross asked.
Santiago shook his head. “The king ordered me to stay back. But I heard it was freezing in the desert last night. Kerry didn’t even take a coat.”
“She won’t freeze. She had a horse. I used to lean up against Rusty—my burro—on cold nights.” Before Voske’s soldiers stole him, Ross thought bitterly.
Santiago frowned. “The king thinks she was kidnapped.”
“If she was, they’ll keep her alive. Like you guys did with me.”
“That’s true.” Santiago looked a little less gloomy, but he didn’t continue the conversation.
They walked in silence past the royal stables, then a corral where work horses and burros grazed. A familiar bray startled Ross. Rusty? Disbelief made him turn his head to scan the herds. It was Rusty!
Rusty clearly recognized Ross, too. The little donkey’s long ears pricked forward, and he headed straight for Ross. Ross’s heart lifted. He was about to whistle to Rusty to come and get his ears scratched. Then he dropped his hand.
If Voske found out about Rusty, he’d have another threat to hold over Ross. It would probably end in Rusty getting killed. Ross turned his back. Santiago, lost in his own thoughts, hadn’t noticed a thing.
Rusty kept on braying, getting louder and more desperate with every step Ross took. The poor animal must think Ross hadn’t noticed him, or, worse, was deliberately ignoring him. Ross steeled himself to not look back.
Behind him, there was a rattle and crash.
“What’s got into that burro?” Santiago asked, glancing back. “It’s trying to kick down the fence.”
Ross shrugged. He didn’t want to talk within Rusty’s hearing. The little donkey knew his voice so well, it would only encourage Rusty to keep trying to get to him. Rusty might even hurt himself trying to jump the fence.
For once, Ross wished Santiago would keep talking. But that was all he said. Ross clenched his teeth and stepped up his pace, until Rusty’s frantic braying faded in the distance.
He was relieved when that annoying lightning girl, Bankar, came charging out of a building and almost ran them down.
“Hello-o-o-o, Santiago,” she cooed. “Didn’t see you in the search party. Does your widdle collarbone hurt too much?”
“I had other orders.” He took a breath that Ross could hear. “Where did you search?”
“Past the power plant, all the way up to the dam.” She flapped a dismissive hand. “Was that a waste of time! As if East Company Two wouldn’t have spotted her.”
“Did anyone find anything?” Santiago asked.
“Nah. But some things found some of us. Not my team. Six bought it, and more than twenty were injured.”
Santiago froze. “Who died?”
“No idea. Want to know what got them?” Before Santiago could answer, she smirked. “Three of them walked right into a jelly trap, a pit mouth got two, and one got bitten by some poisonous . . . thing. Oh, and your buddy Max got clawed by a Gila monster.”
“How bad?”
“He’s already out of the infirmary. There’s a list posted at garrison HQ.” She jerked her thumb at the building she’d emerged from.
“Thanks, Shanti. Would you stay with Ross while I take a look?” Santiago hurried inside.
Bankar studied Ross. “I hear he’s been talking to you a lot.” She flicked two fingers at the hair by her temples, as if not saying Voske’s name would keep him from overhearing. “Has he told you about Prince Sean?”
Ross shrugged, though he couldn’t help being curious.
Bankar lowered her voice. “He was the king’s oldest son. The crown prince. He was Changed from birth.” She slowly turned her head, as if something was going to pop out from behind the feed sheds. “He was invisible all the time, unless he chose to appear. So nobody noticed when he left. If he left.”
Though Ross could tell she was trying to scare him, his neck tightened.
Bankar continued, “They say he died on patrol, but no one ever found as much as a bone or a tooth. Not even an invisible bone or tooth! We all think he’s still here . . . watching. He could be in your bedroom, with a knife. The knife would be invisible, too.”
Santiago came out of the office, looking relieved. He must not have known anyone who’d died. In Las Anclas, everyone knew everyone. It once again brought home to Ross how huge Gold Point was, and how easily Voske could muster a bigger army to set on Las Anclas.
“Sweet dreams,” Bankar sang. She flipped back her blue-black hair and sauntered away.
“What was Bankar going on about?” Santiago asked.
“Telling me ghost stories about invisible Prince Sean lurking in my room with an invisible knife.”
Santiago looked around, then spoke quietly. “Sean was a friend of mine. He didn’t lurk with knives.”
“Was he really invisible?”
“Not exactly. His Change was active all the time, so you tended to not notice him unless he concentrated on making himself noticeable. But if you remembered to look for him, you’d see him.”
Dr. Lee had told Ross the same thing, before the battle at Las Anclas. “Is that why everyone keeps glancing around? They’re looking for Sean?”
Hostage Page 17
