“You run down this creek,” I went on. “Keep your feet in the water as much as possible. That’ll throw off the tracker. With luck, it will lead you to that river that winds between the castles, beneath the tombs.”
“And you?”
“I’ll stay here and distract them.”
“Distract them? Dis—Gabi, they’ll kill you.”
I swallowed hard. “No. They won’t. Remember? We’re worth more alive than dead.”
I could feel her peering through the dark, trying to see my face. “But, Gabs, Marcello said that—”
“I know what he said,” I bit out. “Now go! Please! Find Marcello, Luca. Rally the men. And come and find me, as soon as you can. Wherever I am. I’ll be waiting. You understand me? I’ll be waiting. I’m counting on you, just as Siena now counts on you.”
She paused. We could hear the men, again drawing near. “Go, Lia,” I said, my voice cracking.
Lia was crying now too. “I’ll come for you, Gabi. I promise.”
She hugged me then, hard. Clung to me.
“Go,” I said through my tears.
“I’ll do as you say,” she said. “But I won’t leave you just yet.” She pushed away from me and ran.
“What?” I asked.
But she did not respond. I heard the clatter of the rocks on the far side of the stream and then she was in the trees. I lost sight of her dim form.
They were upon me. Horsemen, coming out of the forest on a wide path we had not been as fortunate to find. I turned, trying to hide my bad leg, drawing my sword.
Their torchlight caught, surrounded, held me.
Three knights stared at me, as if wondering if their eyes deceived them. One opened his mouth, finding his tongue, and was about to shout, when Lia’s arrow came whizzing out of the forest on the far side and sliced through his neck. He gurgled and fell, as the other two edged away, trying to find the source of the arrow.
Another one took an arrow to the shoulder. It hit with such force that he toppled backward over the hind end of his horse.
The third shouted for help, edging his horse around and into the trees. Lia’s arrow stuck in the trunk of one directly before him. “Over here! They’re here!” he yelled.
I grabbed madly for the reins of one of the horses as it came by, pulling it up short, crying out when I was dragged a few feet, the pain rolling through me in waves. I could hear the others coming and thought about mounting, racing away. But I knew in an instant that my leg would not allow me to hold on. I’d confuse the mare with my unbalanced hold. “Lia!” I called. “Come! Take the horse! Go!”
She paused and then ran from the wood, a hundred feet downstream from me, and I slapped the horse’s flank, sending her to my sister. Lia was atop the mare in seconds. We could hear the others now, a collective roar. A hundred men.
“Go with God,” I said, watching with satisfaction as she tore off down the creek. Please, God, be with her, I prayed silently.
At least her bare feet wouldn’t suffer more abuse, I thought.
The third horseman came galloping past me before I remembered he was still there, in pursuit of Lia, still carrying a torch.
I moved without thought, drawing my last dagger from my waistband, aiming with my left, like a rifleman taking his target through the crosshairs. I let the dagger fly, visualizing it circling, end over end, toward his back. Willing it to catch up to him before he was out of range…
He cried out, dropped the torch to the ground, where it sputtered and sizzled on the water’s edge. Then he fell to the creek, obviously dead. His horse reared up.
I limped toward it, using my sword as a sort of cane.
But it was no use. In seconds, they were there—thirty or more coming—running down either bank, surrounding me.
Cheering, jeering, leering.
They closed the circle and began closing in, their eyes on my sword.
As I circled, trying to keep them at bay like a cat surrounded by a pack of dogs, I could see that they understood that I was hurt. Weak. Vulnerable.
It seemed to make them meaner. Fed their lust for death, like a shark smelling blood in the water.
I was so scared I almost peed my pants.
And that made me angry. “Yes!” I cried saucily, gesturing for them to come closer. “Draw near so that I might slice your fat throats!” My eyes widened and I smiled. “The closer you are to one another, the easier target you shall make for my sister.”
That put them off a bit. Some stared at me, seeing if I was bluffing. Others were looking around, pulling back a step, studying the woods.
“These two knights took arrows!” cried a man from the back. “She’s here, somewhere, the archer!”
“She is not here, you fools,” Lord Paratore cried from the outer edges of the growing mob. Obviously, losing the outside of his ears had not impacted his hearing. He was shoving aside men, raking his way inward toward me, as if pushing aside piles of autumn leaves. Men fell on either side, shouted, grew silent when they saw who it was.
He paused at the edge of the circle and looked me up and down. “If Lady Evangelia Betarrini were here,” he said, never releasing me with his eyes, “many more of you would be taking arrows to the gut.” He stepped forward, watching me, smirking when he saw I was favoring my left leg. “Ahh, here is the reason you divided. One She-Wolf came up lame, no?”
I could see he’d decided on his path of attack. I pushed back my hair, over my shoulder, out of my way, lifting my sword. I tried to ignore the gruesome nubs of his ears, wondering if he’d take mine as payback.
He never paused as he approached, drawing his sword as if settling in for a friendly spar. I managed to block his first blow, feeling the pain radiate down my arms and shoulders as I held him back. But his fury fueled his movements, and he focused on forcing me to my right leg, again and again. With four, maybe five strikes, my sword went skittering away over the rounded creek stones. The men cheered.
I closed my eyes, waiting for what would come next.
He grabbed hold of my hair, winding it in his fist, and I cried out, reaching up.
He pulled my face close to his. I could smell the rot of his teeth, saw again where the Sienese had knocked some of them out. “Where is your sister?” he bit out, word by word.
“I know not.”
He let go of my hair and slapped me, hard, with the back of his hand. Then hauled me up again by the hair, pulling my head back until I could feel his breath on my throat. “Where…is…your…sister?” he screamed. He knew what I’d seen on that map; he feared she was off to do exactly as I had told her. Tell Fortino. Warn Siena.
I let a smile begin to spread across my face, feeling a little hysterical, distant.
“Deep in the wood,” I said. “Across the creek. Look for her, won’t you, m’lord? She’d love to sink an arrow into your neck.”
“M’lord,” called a knight. “One man down, dagger in his back. But the two that took arrows—one of their horses is missing.”
Paratore pulled me closer. “She had better not reach Siena, or I shall slice the skin from your beautiful body myself,” he whispered in my ear. He tossed me aside, and I fell to the rocks. The pain from my thigh and ribs shook me so fiercely, I thought I might throw up.
“Fifty of you, down this creek bed. See that you find Lady Evangelia Betarrini and bring her back in chains, or don’t come back at all. She seeks to warn Siena of our attack.”
I tried to rise, but Paratore put a boot to my back and shoved me down. If I was going to throw up, I hoped I could hold it until I could do so all over him.
“Twenty more of you take to the woods, just to be certain she is not intending to make her way under the cover of trees. We all know how wolves like the shadows of the forest.”
Men chuckle
d. Troops set off at once. I closed my eyes, hearing the thunderous sound of all those horses, their sole task to capture my sister. Hurry, Lia…
He was behind me, stepping down hard, keeping me from breathing. The pain was so great from my ribs, I cried out with the last bit of air in my lungs. He was untying the tunic at my back. He lifted me up, leaving the vintner’s old tunic on the stones before me, leaving me covered with nothing but my thin shirt and the strips of cloth Lia had wound around my torso that morning. I faltered, hunched over, gasping for air.
He motioned for two knights to come forward. “Hold her arms.”
I focused on finding my breath as he studied his gloved hands. “Do you know,” he said, turning toward me and cocking his head, “that ’tis illegal in Firenze for a woman to dress as a man?”
“How fortunate for me,” I shot back, “that my loyalties lie with Siena.”
He stared back into my eyes. “Ahh, but you are not in Siena,” he said. He took hold of the neckline of my shirt and ripped it down the center. Cold air rushed across my torso. He smiled and then backed away, lifting a hand behind him at me, as if I were a bit of evidence for a prosecuting attorney. “This is what becomes of women who are allowed to set their feminine side aside and act as men!”
The men growled their dismay. Again, Marcello’s words of warning came echoing through my mind. Fight—
Paratore turned. “Mayhap this wench need only be reminded what it is to be created female,” he said, spitting the last word in my face. He paused and eyed me up and down, studying the knot of rope that held my tights up. Please, God, no…
“That is quite enough, Lord Paratore,” said Lord Greco, now shoving his way into the inner circle. “Lady Betarrini is my charge. The lords of Firenze asked me to fetch her and her sister.”
“And yet it is I who has captured her,” Paratore said, stepping between me and Lord Greco.
Lord Greco stared at Paratore, not rising to his bait. “You sent men after her sister?”
“Fifty. They will return with her before sunup.”
Lord Greco looked to the tracker at his side and lifted his chin in the direction of the creek. “Go and make certain that is the way of it.” The tracker set off to do his master’s bidding. I sensed Paratore bristle.
Fantastic. Caught between two dudes in a serious turf war. Could this night get any better?
“I shall make it known that it was you and your men who brought Lady Gabriella Betarrini to bay.” He moved around Lord Paratore and gruffly took hold of my arm. “The lords of Firenze will be most grateful.”
Paratore glanced back at me and eyed me up and down again, considering. At last, he spit out, “’Tis the eve of battle. I’ve already expended far too much of my strength on this wench.”
I didn’t know what freaked me out more. The idea of being at the mercy of Lord Paratore—or that they planned to attack Siena tomorrow. Tomorrow. Had I counted the days wrong?
Paratore wrenched Greco’s hand from my arm, and I tensed, waiting for him to grab me back, or for a blow. But Paratore only came close, staring down at me. Men hooted and called. Slowly, a smile lifted the corners of his mouth. I glanced to the side, away from his horrid teeth and ear holes. “You’ll go with him now, She-Wolf,” he said, his breath washing down the side of my cheek. “But after we deal this deathblow to Siena and those who serve her, I shall come and claim you as my rightful bounty. I shall teach you what it means to be a woman in my keep.”
Defiant, I dragged my eyes up to meet his.
He studied me. “Yes,” he said, nodding. “It shall be a pleasure to see that spirit beaten from your eyes. You’ll remember my dungeon, and the devices there…” He circled me, letting me remember the horrible contraptions he’d threatened Lia with. “You shall not escape me as your sister once did. And far greater will be the joy of taking Marcello Forelli’s woman as my own.”
“You shall never have me.”
He gave me a closed-lip, sly smile. “Won’t I? Don’t be so certain, She-Wolf.” He wrapped an arm around me and then pulled me to him, making me gasp with pain. I pushed against him, struggling to get away, but he held me effortlessly. He grabbed one wrist, turned it, and pushed it up, behind my back, stilling my struggle at once.
The men cheered again, closing in, enjoying this spectacle.
“I shall hunt down Fortino and cut his throat. Relieve Lady Rossi of her bridal duties, so that she can come to Firenze, where she shall be received as a queen.”
I drew back. So Romana was in on it?
“Lord Paratore,” Lord Greco cut in, but Paratore ignored him, leaning in toward me.
“But I shall allow Marcello to live. I want him to know what it is to be without his home. And even better, to know that you are in my keep. To cut your ears from your head. Or mayhap your nose.”
“Lord Paratore,” said Lord Greco, stepping in again. “Release her to me.”
Lord Paratore abruptly let me go and carefully set my hand upon Lord Greco’s arm, as if we were at a ball and Lord Greco was merely my next dance partner. Which in a crazy way, I suppose he was…
“Do not pine for me, She-Wolf,” he called, hands lifted as he backed away from me.
The men laughed and then turned to follow him. All but twelve, apparently Lord Greco’s men.
I was shaking, feeling weak. I glanced up at him. “I suppose I ought to be grateful to you,” I said. Maybe I could wiggle my way into his heart. Make him like me. Help me out. Or at least weaken his resolve—
“Ah, no,” he said, sweeping his cape from his shoulders and gently wrapping it around mine. Carefully, kindly he tied it at my neck, as if I were a child on my way out to school, then met my gaze. “While I am not the vindictive, lecherous cad that Lord Paratore is, you’ll find that I have far greater ambitions. And that, my friend, can make me quite ruthless.”
I swallowed. He was really handsome. I mean, really, really handsome. Making me think it wouldn’t be hard to pretend—pretend that I was attracted to him. But there was no warmth in his watchful gaze, and his words had sent a cold shudder of fear through me, slamming down on any hope like a gate across a castle door.
Marcello had not feared Lord Paratore when he warned me—I was pretty sure he didn’t even think Paratore was part of the mix. He had assumed Paratore was exiled, long gone.
He had feared that others in Firenze would capture me.
Men like Lord Greco.
And I was not eager to find out why.
CHAPTER 19
It was well past midnight when we returned to camp, me riding behind Lord Greco. He positioned guards on the outside of all four sides of the tent. I glanced to my left, considering my chances at escape, but when I glanced back to the right, Lord Greco stared down at me with a look that said don’t even think about it.
Sighing, I preceded him into his tent, and with a low-toned word, he sent a servant off to fetch bandages and hot water.
He laid out a clean shirt and another pair of leggings across the bed. “Forgive me, m’lady,” he said with a small smile. “I didn’t think to pack a gown for you.”
“It will be well,” I said. I’d be swimming in his clothes, but at least they were clean.
He ducked his head and stared at me. “Are you able to manage changing? The camp physician should be here any moment…”
“Yes,” I said quickly. “I shall manage.”
He picked up the clothes and nodded to a makeshift screen across the floor, little more than a blanket hanging over a stretched rope, in the corner. “Forgive me, m’lady, but I must keep my eyes on you at all times.” He lifted a brow. “Given that you have experience in slipping through the backs of tents. You shall find reasonable modesty there.”
Glaring at him, I grabbed the shirt and leggings from his hands and turned to limp ove
r to the screen. There, I untied his cape and set it to one side, then eased my tattered shirt from my shoulders. I looked down at my bandages, dirty, bloody, knowing that I’d done more damage to my ribs this evening. I glanced at Lord Greco over the blanket’s edge, making sure he was staying put; he stared dolefully back into my eyes, the only part of me he could see.
I quickly glanced down, untied the rope at my waist and let the ragged, filthy leggings fall. Gingerly, I turned my right leg outward, trying to see the back of my leg. Already, the bruising was stretching across the span of it and down toward my knee. Hammy. The ol’ hamstring. Yessiree, I really did it this time. But at least it’s not a slice to my gut again. Now that was bad…
“Lady Betarrini,” he said.
I peeked over the blanket, and he gestured toward a tall, spidery man beside him. “The doctor is here to see to you. If you wish for him to examine your leg, you can come out in the shirt alone. I shall turn my back.”
I hesitated, even as he turned. “I thought you had to keep your eyes on me at all times.”
“You wish for me to watch?”
“Nay!”
He smiled over his shoulder and then turned fully away again. “Even you would not be brave nor foolish enough to flee into a camp full of soldiers in naught but a shirt.”
He had me there. I sighed and then edged around the screen.
The doctor gave me a kindly, fatherly look. “Come closer to the light, m’lady, if you please. Here, to this chair.”
I limped over to him, and he studied me from head to toe, viewing me in the detached manner of a medical professional. He took my hands and turned them palm up, frowning over the deep gouges there and along my left arm. He let go of them and lifted my hair, finding the cut on my forehead, the other at the top right of my chest. “Turn, please.”
I did so and he squatted behind me, his knees cracking as he did so. I flinched when he touched my leg with cold, thin fingers.
“Forgive me, my dear. Now this might hurt a bit more. Hold onto that post, please.”
The River of Time Series Page 48
