by T. A. White
"What are you doing here?" Eva asked groggily. She raised her head gingerly, slightly surprised when Hardwick reached out to steady her, his hands gentle as he helped her to a seated position.
She took in her surroundings with a distracted expression. The sun had sunk into the horizon while she'd been unconscious, and shadows had lengthened to shroud almost the entire valley except the highest points of the Keep.
She shivered, abruptly noticing how cold it was without the warmth of the sun's rays to cut through the chill in the air.
"Easy there. It looks like you took quite a blow to the head," the female warrior from earlier said. Fiona, Eva thought her name was.
The man with Fiona stood next to the body of one the men who'd attacked Eva and the mythological.
"When Caia returned to camp, we realized something was wrong." Concern was etched on Ollie's face.
"She should be tied up and facing a trial," Jason muttered.
"One more word," Hardwick said, not bothering to raise his voice. He didn't have to, the slight snap to it made his point better than yelling ever would.
"Ignore them," Fiona said with a friendly smile. She was a tall woman. Not exactly pretty, but the force of her personality shone from her gaze which radiated strength and confidence. "Tell us what happened."
"I'm not sure," Eva said, still a little groggy from the blow.
"Maybe they tried to hurt you and you had to defend yourself," Fiona offered, her expression expectant.
"No, well, yes." Eva shook her head. She wasn't making any sense.
Jason scoffed.
Ollie spun toward him, his expression furious. "What did Hardwick say?"
"Jason didn't technically say anything," Eva couldn't help but point out. She shifted, grimacing at the bright spots of pain that shot through her. When she'd fallen, she must have bruised her backside on a rock.
Ollie gave her a look of disbelief. She shrugged at him. Jason hadn't.
"She's right." There was the barest twitch of Hardwick's lips. It might have hinted at amusement—or indigestion. Eva found it hard to tell which sometimes.
"Either way, any more crap from the rest of you and you’ll have to deal with me." When silence answered her, Fiona focused her sharp gaze on Eva. "Explain."
"Yes, they did attack me, but no, I didn't do this to them." The short distraction had been enough for Eva to gather her thoughts.
This situation could go very bad, very quickly. Two men were dead on the ground. Worse, they wore the clothes of the Trateri. Imposters they might have been, but Eva wasn't sure how easy that would be to prove.
"Who else could have done it?" Jason sneered. "You're the only one here."
Fiona rose to her feet and stalked toward Jason. The younger man didn't move before she sank her fist in his stomach. Jason sucked in a sharp breath and curled into himself.
"I dislike having to repeat myself," Fiona said coldly.
She waited as he got his breath back and raised her eyebrow in challenge. Jason's gaze went to Hardwick who simply crossed his arms across his barrel chest and tilted his head in question.
Jason had been warned. Twice. He had only himself to blame for this, and he knew it.
His face darkened as he lowered his eyes.
A horse and rider rounded the boulder. The rider was a tall man with dark hair and dark eyes.
"I checked on the closest sentry. He's dead," he told Fiona without delay.
All eyes swung back to Eva. She gulped, very much afraid this latest death would be laid at her feet too. She had to admit; it didn't look good. From the outside looking in, she might have been tempted to blame her too.
"How about you explain everything from the beginning?" Fiona said, her gaze a little harder than it had been before.
Eva jerked her head in a nod. "They're not Trateri."
"How would you know?" the man next to the bodies asked.
"The accent," Eva said, tapping her throat. "And their horses."
Everyone looked around for the horses in question. They were gone. Probably scared off in the commotion or by the mythological when he’d killed their owners.
"They were mountain horses," Eva finished lamely.
"Do you really think one small woman with no training as a warrior could have done this?" Ollie challenged.
Her friend's jaw was set in a stubborn line as he tried to defend her. Ollie tended to avoid conflict under most circumstances. He was easygoing, where Eva was stubborn, and preferred to figure out a path around the obstacles he faced rather than charge headfirst at them as Eva was inclined to do.
But not this time. This time he was almost combative as he challenged the warrior.
Everyone studied the bodies in question. Blood coated the front of the taller one from where his torso had long gashes in it, and the man’s throat had been torn out.
The head of the shorter one looked vaguely wrong, misshapen and slightly caved in. Eva felt her stomach turn as she realized why. Something had crushed it.
Her gaze swung toward Caia, the mare’s lower forelegs and hooves coated in an incriminating red.
Eva swallowed hard and met Hardwick’s gaze. "Please don't hurt her. She was trying to protect me."
His eyes thawed slightly.
The male warrior next to the strangers' bodies whistled as he gazed at Caia admiringly. "I wouldn't mind a mount like that." He slanted Eva a look. "Could you teach mine to do that?"
Eva's didn’t answer, surprise holding her mute.
"Roscoe," Fiona warned.
Roscoe shrugged. "Sorry, but I don't think she did it. I've never seen wounds like these. They're not from any sword or knife I know, and I doubt the herd mistress is even armed."
"Let's make sure of that, though, shall we?" Fiona suggested in a biting tone. She held her hand out to Eva expectantly, her eyes dropping to Eva's satchel when Eva hesitated.
Eva was quick to shrug out of the satchel, handing it over without protest. It didn't take long to go through the entirety of the contents. Eva didn't have much and the knife she’d used to cut the mythological free was probably still lying on the ground somewhere.
It only took minutes for Fiona to finish.
"If you didn't do this, who did?" Fiona asked, steadfastly ignoring Roscoe as he muttered, "Or what?"
A small sound came from above, drawing their gazes to the slight rise behind Eva. The mythological peered down at them, his equine face haughty and defiant.
Eva twisted, pointing up at the creature above. "Him. He did it."
CHAPTER THREE
Those around Eva were motionless, speechless at the unexpected guest on the hill. Ollie gaped as Jason stared up in awe. A hush fell over the group as the winged horse studied them.
He cut a regal figure. He knew it, too, if the pride and defiance he displayed was anything to judge by.
He glared at them, unruffled by their presence; the bodies on the ground pointed to his ability to defend himself.
Why had he stayed? If she'd been him, she would have taken to the sky and escaped the moment she was free.
"Great Rava in the flesh," Delia murmured.
"Eva?" Ollie said questioningly.
"I found him," Eva responded, already knowing what he was asking. "I'm willing to bet he escaped from those two. There was a net around his wings and a collar around his neck.
Fiona and Roscoe shared a glance.
"What is one of them doing here?" Jason asked.
"No one is to speak of this to anyone else," Fiona interrupted, her voice hard. "If I hear even a whisper of what happened here, I will have you tried for insubordination and treason. Is that clear?"
The rest of them nodded uncertainly.
"Ghost, summon the Hawkvale and the Battle Queen," Fiona said grimly.
"Already on it," the man on the horse said. In the next moment, Ghost and his horse wheeled and were gone.
Fiona's intense gaze focused on Eva as her expression grew severe. "I had a feeling y
ou were going to be trouble."
Eva's opened her mouth in protest.
Fiona held up a hand to forestall it. "Don't bother. I know it's not your intention to draw attention, but it seems you share more in common with the Battle Queen than the fact you came to us through unusual means. She too, draws notice when all she wants to do is go unremarked. I don't fault you for it, but it will make for a very interesting ride for those of us caught in your vicinity."
Eva studied the other woman with a slight frown. There hadn't been judgment or accusation in her words. It was more like she was stating the facts as she saw them. It left Eva uncertain as to how she should respond. In the end, she chose to keep her mouth shut. Silence had never hurt anyone and was an often-underutilized tool.
Eva drew her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them for a little warmth.
The fact of the matter was, Eva was a small thread in the Trateri's overarching tapestry. She could easily be snipped from it if she became more trouble than she was worth.
The gravity of what she'd done was beginning to sink in, leaving her with the feeling she was wavering on the edge of an abyss. The tumble down would be hard and brutal.
The winged horse's presence held the potential to shatter the tentative alliance Fallon had made with some of the mythologicals. Throw in the men dressed in the same manner as his warriors and the entire situation could have consequences that reverberated for years to come.
It wasn't a stretch to think the Trateri might decide to heap the blame for this entire mess on Eva—the outsider with few ties.
She hid her trembling hands beneath her, not wanting anyone to see her fear.
It'd been a long time since she’d felt this powerless over her fate. Not since leaving her village.
Hardwick reached over and clasped her shoulder, giving it a quick squeeze. The expression on his face didn't shift from his normal dourness.
The gesture might be small but Eva took comfort from it, drawing strength from the simple kindness.
Her fate was not yet decided. As hard as it was to trust when her trust had been shattered before, the Trateri had given her no reason to believe they would cast her to the wolves for an incident that wasn't her fault.
"Ollie, do you have any salve on you?" she asked.
The salve was a concoction made by one of the healers to treat wounds. It worked on both humans and animals. Ollie usually carried some on him since he was the one most warriors approached when their mounts were wounded and needed treatment.
"I do. Are you hurt?" he asked, his expression sympathetic.
"Not me. Him." Eva tilted her head at the mythological.
His pain surged against her in waves. She winced as a phantom pain touched her throat. Her wrist throbbed in sympathy seconds later.
Hardwick slanted her a look but didn't comment as Ollie stared uncertainly up at the mythological.
"Will he let us get close enough to treat him?" Ollie asked.
Eva lifted her head and stared at the mythological. "Only one way to find out."
"Perhaps it would be wise to leave him alone until the Hawkvale and Battle Queen arrive," Fiona suggested.
Eva's expression was troubled as she glanced over at the warrior. "Will they kill him?"
Fiona raised an eyebrow. "Your opinion of us doesn't seem very high."
Eva shrugged. "Don't take it personally. I find most people prefer the easy choice, no matter who gets hurt in the end."
"You'll have to forgive Eva," Ollie said, shooting a quelling look Eva's way. "She isn't very good with humans. It's a limitation we're working on."
Hardwick made a sound of amusement. In this, he and Eva were disturbingly similar.
"I can't say what the Hawkvale and Battle Queen will do, but I doubt they will harm him," Fiona said with an easy smile. "She has a soft spot for the creatures since they helped her when she was in the Badlands."
Eva hoped Fiona was right. Her experience with Shea had been brief, but the Battle Queen had seemed honorable, to the point others would consider madness.
"Then it won't matter if I treat his wounds," Eva concluded, rising.
She couldn't control what decision was made, but this was one thing she could do.
Fiona regarded her with an amused glint in her eyes and gestured to the mythological as if saying ‘after you’.
Filled with determination, Eva held her hand out to Ollie, waiting expectantly for the salve. He looked from her to Hardwick with a touch of uncertainty.
Hardwick dipped his chin down in the barest of nods. With a sigh, Ollie reached into his satchel and pulled out the balm, placing it carefully into Eva's waiting hand. "I hope you know what you're doing."
Eva hoped so too, if she was honest.
She stepped around him without speaking, striding past Fiona and Roscoe as she channeled a confidence that felt far away.
Hardwick and Fiona followed close behind as Eva led the way up the hill. She was the first to reach the crest, her eyes rising to meet the mythological's glare as his teeth closed inches from her face. Her reflexive jerk nearly sent her tumbling back down the hill. A muffled curse escaped Hardwick as the mythological's attention shifted to him next.
Hardwick moved with the practiced ease of someone who had been dealing with temperamental horses all his life, stepping sideways as he dodged having a chunk torn out of him.
Fiona spat a nasty word as she crouched, her hand going to the hilt of her sword.
The mythological stayed where he was, guarding the top of the hill as he bared his teeth.
Eva's heart thumped at the close call as she took stock of the situation. The mythological was acting like a new mama who saw a threat to her foal. He was aggressive because he was afraid, and he didn't trust any of them.
She could understand that. She wouldn't trust two leggers if they'd done to her what they'd so obviously done to the winged horse.
Still, she couldn't walk away. Not with his pain pulling at her. It was a low persistent buzz beneath her skin, singing a jarring lullaby of discomfort. She couldn't imagine how much worse it was for him.
When he snaked his head toward her again, coming dangerously closing to taking a bite out of her arm, she smacked his muzzle away. "I thought we already had a talk about being rude to the people who are trying to help you."
The mythological stared at her, his snout edging toward her again as if to test her boundaries.
Her fingers closed into a fist and she showed it to him. "You treat me polite, and I'll treat you polite. Continue to try to bite me and I'll clobber you."
The mythological settled back, letting out a sound very much like Caia when she was in trouble.
When he remained where he was, only twitching as Fiona stopped beside her, Eva gave him a prim look and showed him the ointment in her hand. "This is an ointment for your wounds. It'll help keep them from getting infected."
The mythological eyed the ointment, the expression on his equine face as suspicious as Eva had ever seen.
She waited to see what he'd do.
He stamped a rear hoof, his wings rustling before he nodded his head up and down several times.
Eva released the breath she'd been holding. Finally.
"Will you take his left side?" she asked Hardwick.
He nodded.
Together, the two of them moved toward the mythological as Fiona hung back, one hand on her weapon as she stood guard.
Hardwick's expression darkened when he caught sight of the wounds. Despite the fury on his face, his hands were exceedingly gentle as he spread ointment over the numerous gashes and lacerations covering both the wings and the neck.
He and Eva moved over the horse's body, careful not to miss any wounds. Nightfall had come in truth, only the light of the mostly full moon and stars making their task possible.
Eva's neck was tight and her back sore, her hands covered with the ointment when she finally stepped back, hoping she'd gotten everything. Hardwick did th
e same on the other side minutes later.
"Eva," Fiona called softly.
Eva glanced wearily in the other woman's direction, going still at the sight of the man beside her. This was the second time in one day she’d encountered him. Strange, after months of avoiding him unless it was to summon his mount.
Caden, leader of the Warlord's Anateri, watched her with an enigmatic gaze, his thoughts locked away and impossible to read. He was short for a Trateri, but still taller than the men of Eva's old village.
His body was powerful and compact, his chest broad and his arms muscular. Eva had seen for herself the power and speed he was capable of. He killed as easily as he breathed.
She knew if there had been enough light to see by his eyes would be blue. His gaze would be penetrating, doing little to hide his intense intelligence or the way he studied his surroundings like he was calculating the best avenue of attack.
Her association with Caden was brief, a few snapped words on a night of upheaval and then a thankfully short interrogation later that same day, coupled with the few times she’d needed to care for his horse when he returned or left the camp.
Despite that, he'd managed to leave an impression on her.
He was a man best avoided when possible, and treated like a dangerous beast when not. He put her in mind of a sheathed blade—always carrying the potential for death.
He intimidated Eva, pure and simple. Whenever he was near, she couldn't help but be aware of every move he made.
"The Hawkvale and his Battle Queen wait below," Caden said abruptly and with no greeting.
Eva didn't immediately move. She didn't like leaving the mythological behind. Alone and injured. While they'd taken care of the wounds, neither she or Hardwick had a chance to look at the mythological's leg. There were still things they needed to do.
Leaving a job half done grated.
Caden's eyes narrowed as he correctly read her reluctance to obey. He wouldn't like that, Eva would guess.
"We've done enough for now," Hardwick assured her. "Let's get this awful business done so we can find our beds before dawn."
Eva reluctantly saw his point. Rebelling would only result in a loss of dignity—most likely hers. She had no doubt Caden would drag her down this hill if she delayed much longer.
