22: Get Me Out Of Here

Llew entered the farmhouse kitchen and nearly burst into tears. It was homely and small, with a central table surrounded by work benches and a range that was always well-banked at this time of year. The house was warm and fit exactly into her idealized memories of her early life in Quaver. If she'd been hoping to find safety within the borders of Turhmos, this is what it would look like. She didn't drop her guard, though. Every kitchen knife, every pot and pan were scrutinized. They all could be turned into weapons, who converted them would be a matter of reflexes.

“Well now, who's this?” The woman bustling among the cupboards looked round when Llew entered. She didn't seem at all surprised by the appearance of the girl at her door. She was a fine-featured woman, and lean; the homely women Llew had encountered around Cheer tended toward portliness. Her hair was still dark, and she had it tied back in a bun. Her blue eyes were piercing, bringing Cassidy to mind.

“I found her taking a drink at the well.” The man leaned the pitchfork outside on the porch and stepped inside, pulling the door closed behind him.

If anything went wrong, now she had a door to worry about, too.

“She's in need of a good meal.” The man patted his own stomach in demonstration.

“You are a kind man, Ard, which is why I love you.” The second part barely sounded tacked on. The woman's smile was not unkind but hinted that her husband may have made a habit of bringing in strays. To Llew she said, “Come, you must wash up.”

Wanting to believe the best of these people – desperately in need of some human goodness in the world – Llew followed her to a pantry in which stood a basin and jug of water on a shelf.

“Oh, dear. What happened there?”

Llew froze, her hands half raised.

Turning her hand to look at it properly, for perhaps the first time in a couple of days, Llew saw what the woman had seen: the cut was inflamed and wept a milky pus. She'd never had an infection before.

The woman reached out, and Llew snatched her hands back.

“It's okay. I— I'm fine. I'll just be on my way.” She backed out of the cupboard and toward the door. It was just the two of them in the kitchen. Ard had disappeared into the adjoining room, trusting Llew with his wife. Stupid man. She was dangerous, especially with a wound inflicted by a Syakaran knife.

The woman looked at Llew properly for the first time and gaped.

“What are you running from, child?” The woman's tone was soft and nonthreatening, but Llew couldn't tell if it was genuine.

“Nothing.” She was nearly to the door. She turned to face it and reached for the door handle.

“My best friend was a Syaenuk.”

Llew froze.

The woman knew what Llew was. What in hell would she do now?

“Her family was free, unknown to the Turhmos authorities for generations. They never crossed the border for fear they would be found out if they tried, and instead they settled to farming life. But when she was a young girl, she fell in love.”

Llew turned as the woman went to a drawer and pulled on a pair of gloves. She returned to the cupboard and poured some water from the jug into a small saucepan, which she settled on the stove.

“Her eye was caught by a young Aenuk soldier, who passed this way a few times during training exercises. One day, we helped him escape. He stole away under cover of the forest, and we helped him hide until his squad was well away. Her parents weren't happy at all. But they could hardly turn this boy away now, could they?” The woman smiled at the memory, stirring the water absently. “They lived as cousins for a while. I think they nearly managed a year. But, eventually, they couldn't wait any longer, and eloped.” The woman fished a clean cloth from a cupboard and sunk it in the water as the first boiling bubbles broke the surface. “I would get letters from all over, even Quaver for a time. The last I heard, she was still in Quaver with her husband and young daughter. But that was a long time ago, more than a decade...”

The familiarity of the woman's tale was overwhelming.

“What was her name?” Llew asked.

“Orinia.”

“My mother...”

A smile crept onto the woman's face. “My, it is a small world. Come, child. Let me clean that wound, and then you must stay for that meal Ard promised.”

Though still wary, Llew let her guard ease. She sat at the table and tentatively held out her reddened hand for the woman to examine and sponge clean with hot water.

“And how is it that you come to have a Syakaran knife? The one that inflicted this wound, would be my guess.”

“It—” Llew decided there was little point lying to these people. “It belongs to a friend of mine.”

The woman's eyebrows shot up. “Friend?”

Llew nodded. “Syakaran.” She'd said it before she considered whether or not it was safe to mention in the heart of Turhmos. She watched the woman closely for a reaction, some sign that she didn't like what she'd heard. Llew didn't think the woman's eyebrows could go any higher, but there they went.

“And, yet you live...” The woman looked awestruck. “A powerful friend to have.”

Llew had thought they would view Jonas with distaste. All she had heard about Turhmos was how they loved their Aenuks and loathed Jonas for what he had done. But these heartland folk, these farmers, simply recognized the power of the Syakara and Syaenuks without judgment.

“I'm Merrid, by the way.” The woman smiled warmly.

“Llew.”

“Llew? Llewella, wasn't it?”

Llew smiled in return. Then the smile faded. “They have her,” she said. “Turhmos has my mother.” And I killed my father. She blinked back the tears that threatened and Merrid gave her a sympathetic look, but said nothing. They settled into silence as Merrid concentrated on flushing out Llew's wound and then strapping it up, her gloves keeping her safe from connecting with Llew's skin. With the hand bandaged, Merrid placed a glove-encased hand on Llew's wrist.

“Of course, you want her back, it's only natural.” Llew looked up into the woman's eyes. “You clearly have friends in high places, and that gives me confidence that you will succeed.” Merrid's words brought the start of a smile to Llew's lips. “But you won't get her back on your own, and if there's one thing your mother would want me to say to you, it is this: get out. Get out of Turhmos.”

Llew shrank back from the intensity in the woman's eyes. She nodded.

“I don't know how I can thank you.”

“Rest here tonight, and then you must get out of Turhmos. It's what Orinia wanted for you. She never wanted you here.”

Llew nodded again. Still, with her father dead, and having experienced what her mother must have gone through in her years with Braph, never mind what she must have been going through while a captive of Turhmos itself, Llew wanted her back more than ever.

They shared a solid, simple meal of stew and roasted vegetables, and after dinner and clean-up, Merrid sat Llew back down at the table and brought out the letters Orinia had written to her between escaping Turhmos and disappearing in Quaver. The letters from Quaver had always taken a long time to arrive, there being no direct mail system between the two countries. Everything had to go through intermediary addresses in Brurun.

Llew valued the chance to relive her memories of her mother, and so many of her own experiences were written down, in her mother's stylish handwriting, for Merrid to share. She blinked back tears all night. At one point, Merrid even drew her into a warm hug and Llew allowed herself the indulgence of fully accepting comfort and support. It had been too long since she had been mothered like that.

She wondered if she should turn down the offer of a bed. It would cost her time, but the chance to sleep in a real bed was just too enticing to forgo. Besides, it wouldn't leave a patch of death for Braph to trace.

They rose early the following morning and Merrid filled Llew up on a hearty breakfast of dense bread and fatty bacon. Llew negotiated for Ard to give her one of his old shirts and a pair of trousers he likely could no longer fit anyway, and Merrid gave her an old, but comfortable pair of shoes. Modesty aside, it reduced the area of Llew's exposed skin, protecting Turhmos from Llew as much as it hid Llew from the wrong kind of attention.

Merrid gave Llew more food to carry with her, and she and Ard bade Llew good luck, making her promise to get safely to Brurun.

“Llewella?” Merrid pushed herself from the frame of the farmhouse door, her voice shaking with uncertainty.

A chill ran through Llew as her mind overlaid Braph calling her by that name.

She shook it off and cocked her head at the woman.

“We didn't tell you last night, because we wanted you to have a good night's sleep behind you... And if you're sure he's your friend...”

Llew's mouth went dry. There was only one friend they had discussed.

“We want you to get safely out of Turhmos as fast as possible. It's what your parents would want. It's what we want for you.”

Spit it out, woman.

“A group of men stopped by the other day.”

A group of men? Jonas, Cassidy, and Alvaro?

“They were headed for Hinden.”

“That's about a day and a half's ride north-north-east,” Ard supplied.

Hope welled in Llew. Her friends had come to find her! It must have shown on her face because Merrid's lit up in a small smile and she mouthed: “Go.”

Llew thanked them profusely and ran from their property, heading north-north-east, her heart, and stomach, full for the first time in several days.

She reached Hinden by late afternoon and swallowed her fear of being recognized enough to ask after her friends. It took a while to find someone who had seen them, and that person didn't know where the group had been heading, but more inquiries soon gave her the information she needed. The nearest town was just under a day's ride away, less than that with Llew's new turn of speed.

She was keen to run again but restrained herself until she was well clear of the town, and then she sprinted as fast as she could for as long as she could: which wasn't so long, as she had only stopped for a light lunch and she'd been running hard all day. Her body was fatigued. She took a moment to lean against a tree, briefly forgetting her need to avoid touching living things. Instead of the usual tingle, though, a rush of life leaped across the skin of her wrist. Startled, she jumped back.

The tree showed no outward sign of her having touched it. She hadn't burned its thin, white bark as she had done to every other tree she'd touched since leaving Braph's. And her injured hand felt different. She opened and closed it several times. There was no tightness to the skin. No tingle. No sting.

She untied and unwound the bandage and stared at the smooth, unblemished skin. There was no cut, no infection. Just her skin.

She looked up at the leaves above in awe and wonder. She didn't think she'd ever seen anything more beautiful. The tree teemed with life – the branches were thick with birds' nests, and the air thrilled with the constant babble that had struck up above as soon as she'd touched the trunk. Unbidden, she felt an outpouring of love for the huge, ancient plant. Surprising herself, she threw her arms wide, embraced the tree and wept. It was like meeting her entire family all at once, and each and every one of them welcomed her with unconditional love. It was overwhelming. It was magnificent.

Birds fluttered into the tops of the tree above her, rustling leaves and shaking small branches, while others set off on their errands. It wasn't warm enough for much in the way of insect activity, and the air was silent apart from a gentle breeze brushing leaf tips and grasses.

Llew breathed the fresh air deep into her lungs. She was whole.

Sometime later she managed to break the trance and reluctantly stepped back from the tree. Something about the color of it struck her, and she pulled Jonas's knife from its her waist and held it up between her and the trunk. They were a perfect match. She also sensed the tree recoiling from the weapon, as though she were somehow mentally connected to it; so, she restrung it to her hip. There was something about this tree, the knife, and Llew's heritage, but she wasn't in a position to investigate it right then. When – not if, when – she made it back to Brurun, she would ask Anya about those books of hers.

Then she was hammering the tree with her fists and crying. Why hadn't she come across one like it sooner? Why did she have to find it after she'd killed her father? She didn't mean any of the punishment, and it was ineffectual, but she dished it out until she was blinded by tears, and then collapsed to its roots. Where were you?

Mumbling an apology for her behavior, she crossed her legs, sat and pulled some bread and cold meat from the bundle Merrid had given her, and ate, leaning against the trunk. It may have been bizarre to admit in the heart of Turhmos, but Llew felt as though she was home. But there was only a couple of hours of daylight left in which to run. She apologized for having to leave, having to keep running. She was still in Turhmos, her friends were close, she had to go. Sorry.

She was talking to a tree.

Llew felt the healthiest she had since landing in Turhmos. She had food in her belly, and perhaps still enough for breakfast, and she was whole. Now she ran with a smile on her face. So far, she hadn't seen Braph nor any Turhmos soldiers behind her and she knew her friends were somewhere ahead. With her added turn of speed, her confidence that she would make it safely out of Turhmos grew. Overflowing with that sense of wellbeing, she turned back to the tree. From this distance, it seemed to be waving at her across the meadow. She raised her arms, sending a final embrace, and rejoiced at the lack of pursuers. She turned and entered the next forest.

Leaving yet another small town behind, Jonas swung from Chino's back and punched a tree.

Things were not going well. They had zigzagged through every town that lay roughly between Brurun and Duffirk, the capital of Turhmos. Jonas suspected that was where Braph was, but there was no telling for sure, and he could just as easily hide in a small town if he found the right one. Granted, small town folk were more likely to talk and be suspicious of the kind of activity Braph got up to, but it wasn't impossible. It was just as likely Braph could find the kind of community that would rally round him, protect him from the likes of Jonas and his companions. If that was the case, they might never find them.

As he had every other time, Jonas wiped the thought from his mind. He knew Braph. His brother wasn't the kind of man who could garner that kind of support.

But so far, they had turned up no results. Not even a possible sighting. Just nothing.

Jonas punched the tree again. Bark and blood flew: his skin wasn't impenetrable.

“Hey, Jonas.” Hisham slid from his horse and went to grab Jonas's arm. But Jonas just swung even faster and harder – too fast for the Karan. The tree creaked, and pain shot up his arm. He folded over, cradling the limb, and shaking out his hand, all the while cursing and stamping.

“That's not helping, my friend,” said Hisham, placing a hand on Jonas's back. “We're doin' the best we can.”

Jonas took a moment to breathe through his curses. Then he straightened, stretching and clenching the injured hand. He'd scraped his knuckles good and jarred his bones, but nothing was broken. He looked at Hisham, thinking he would just agree with his friend, climb back on his horse, and they would carry on. But when he looked up, all he wanted to do was punch something – someone – else, and Hisham didn't deserve it.

Jonas turned away, striding several frustrated paces, muttering, cursing Braph, cursing Turhmos, cursing himself for leaving Llew, cursing Llew for not just letting him be and staying put inside where she was safe, cursing Lord Tovias for not having an estate secure against Braph... He walked away from and back to Hisham several times, muttering and cursing, muttering and cursing. And finally stopped in front of his friend and puffed out a deep breath.

“I know,” he said. “But it's not enough. Braph can fly.”

Llew stumbled forward, trying to keep down her lunch. She was struggling. Her stomach was in her throat and its contents insisted on tickling her tonsils. Biting her lips closed and clutching her belly, she staggered on until she could hold off no longer. Collapsing to hands and knees, she allowed her lunch to evacuate. The cattle in the next paddock looked on nervously.

Llew couldn't understand. She'd been doing fine, running, and feeling great ever since leaving the ivory-barked tree, but as soon as she'd caught a whiff of the cattle on the air, her stomach had grown queasy. She'd visited a beef farm in Cheer hundreds of times over the years, swapping fish for meat, and never had a problem.

What in all hells had Braph done to her? Now, not only could she run fast, but she was more sensitive to smells, though this was the first time anything had made her feel quite so rotten. Most things just smelled stronger.

Sure it was the beef odor churning her stomach, Llew wiped the puke from her mouth with the back of her wrist and forged on. The sooner she was past the farm, the better.

She was right. As soon as she left the cattle behind and entered the next forest she felt fine again. Better than fine. She felt strong, healthy, fast.

As she ran, she kept her goal firmly in mind: find Jonas, make him kill her.

All her life, all she had ever wanted was to grow up and work in her father's smithy. Sure, she'd dreamed bigger, but she had never thought it would happen. Jonas and Alvaro showing up in Cheer had changed that, and she'd seen visions of a bigger world. She laughed. This was the bigger world. Phyos was where she had wanted to be, and here she was. And what had she done on her way here? She'd killed a man, let herself be killed because of Kynas's stupidity, she'd killed a child, a poor innocent girl simply outside playing... She'd killed two street-kids from Duffirk, her own father who had given so much to keep her free, and she'd killed who knew what else within the huge circle of death she'd created that first night.

But she wasn't evil. She knew that. None of it had been her desire. Renny had intended to hurt her. Kynas had thought pointing the finger at her would get himself free. And all the children, her father, and the rest of it... That was all down to Braph and his desire for her power. If she had a choice, she would happily hand it all over. She didn't want it anymore.

“Ganich is closer,” said Hisham.

“But Azimol is between here and Duffirk,” Jonas said, pointing at the two circles he'd drawn in the dirt with a stick. “He's got to be there. That's where the power is.”

“But you said yourself, you don't think Turhmos trusts him. What if he's not allowed that close?”

Jonas flung the stick away. It smashed through light branches, sending leaves and twigs cascading to the ground. “Fuckin' Braph and his fuckin' magic! He flies and we have nothing to go on. Nothing!”

“He'll make a mistake some time.”

“But who knows what he could have done to Llew by then? Once he's got her blood, we don't know what he can do.”

Something whisked through the trees behind them.

“What was that?” Hisham asked as all four men turned. Small branches still bobbed, but otherwise there was no sign of whatever had been speeding by. “Something, or someone, just ran by. Fast.”

“In Turhmos?” Jonas raised an eyebrow at Hisham, and could see his friend having the same thought: what was another Karan doing in Turhmos? There was only one way to find out. Jonas knew it and Hisham knew it. If someone else with Karan speed was running through a Turhmosian forest, it was up to Jonas as the nearest, and fastest, Quaven Lieutenant to find out who, how and why. With an infinitesimal nod between them, Jonas set off.

Alvaro's “Where's he going?” faded to nothing behind him.

It felt liberating to run. In recent months, in the interest of maintaining a certain level of anonymity, Jonas had curbed the use of his natural talents. Strength wasn't so bad, since he knew who could see him when he used it if he took the time to look. But with speed, he could run past or literally into, if he wasn't paying attention, someone who shouldn't know who or what he was before the dust had settled.

He pushed down the hope that the runner might be Braph. That would be too convenient. If it was Braph, it might mean Llew had escaped, though Jonas couldn't let himself hope for that much. Not that he doubted the girl, but nor would he underestimate his brother. As a child, Braph had never ceased to amaze Jonas with his knowledge and mind tricks; he may not have been the Syakaran, but he was gifted in other ways, ways Jonas could only marvel at.

Trees rushed up before him and he dodged and swerved as he had many a time back home, or on the killing fields of Turhmos. Not knowing who he was chasing, and preparing for a fight, made this feel more like the latter occasion. It didn't take long before he could see the other runner dodging through trees perhaps fifty paces ahead. He didn't recognize who it was, only catching brief glimpses between the trunks. He was closing the gap, but they were surprisingly fast – possibly faster than Hisham, and Hisham was one of the best Kara. But not as fast as Jonas.

He caught a shoulder on a tree trunk but kept on, pumping his arms and legs harder than he had in months. He was nearly on the runner when the forest came to an end. The figure leaped a fence and started across a paddock. Whoever it was, was of a slight build, in loose clothing. Llew came to mind, but that would be ridiculous: Llew couldn't run like that. But she did wear clothes like that. What if it was a Karan escaping a Turhmos prison? He hadn't heard of a Karan being captured recently, but if it had happened in the midst of a battle, it was the kind of loss that could go unnoticed.

Sheep scattered as the figure ran through them and Jonas leaped the fence. Five paces. Four. Three. He threw himself forward, flung his arms out, grabbed a leg, and half fell, half rolled to the ground.

Keeping a firm grip on an ankle, he pushed himself up. The runner, coughing, rolled to face him.

“Llew?”

“Jonas?”

They gawked at each other a long time, puffing from their exertions, then, “Jonas!” Llew sat up, arms flung wide, and they clung to each other. Jonas thought she might disintegrate into dust and fly away when he got his arms around her, but she didn't. She was real. The hunt was over, and there was no sign of Braph. That they were both here, now, was down to good fortune, a wild stroke of luck maybe. But Jonas would take that.

She sobbed into his shoulder.

It felt extraordinary to hold her again, better than he'd dared remember. She crushed him in her arms, and he replied in kind, though he hoped he was gentler. She pushed back and in her eyes Jonas saw the same relief, joy, and wonder. Did something else flicker in those eyes? Whatever it was didn't matter when she took his face in a fierce grasp and pulled him to her. He didn't resist, savoring the warm bliss of her lips, breath, and tongue.

She kissed him with a hunger that lit something inside him and straddled his legs and he wrapped his arms around her. Her fingers worked on his shirt buttons as they kissed, their lips never parting. She leaned into him and he pulled an arm from her to lie back without breaking the connection.

Then her fingers were at his belt buckle. In the center of Turhmos, with Hisham, Cassidy and Alvaro waiting for them? He supposed it didn't have to take long. He could make it up to her later, in the safety of Brurun.

She had pulled back a little while she fought with his trouser buttons. He took her face in his hands and kissed her. She didn't respond, so absorbed in her work was she. He brushed her hair back from her eyes, and all desire washed from him. There was nothing in those eyes.

“Llew?”

She was frustrated in her efforts. The button wasn't tricky, her fingers just weren't working for her.

He grabbed her hand. “Llew.”

She heard him and looked up; her eyes still faraway. Her journey back to the now was a mass of blended expressions, each so brief he caught none. When she finally saw him, she flung herself off him and sobbed into the grass, curling into a ball on elbows and knees, arms over her head, her body shaking. He lay a hand on her back, at a loss for anything else to do.

She reached out to him, her fingers grasping the folds of his shirt in a fierce grip to pull herself up, and she pressed her face into his chest, sobs still racking her. He wanted to rip the shirt off and feel her touch on his skin, while at the same time his heart ached for the scared girl fleeing through enemy territory on her own. But they'd found each other now. He brought his arms around her to hold her until the blubbering subsided.

She stayed pressed into his shoulder, catching her breath, sniffing back the tears, and resting.

“I killed him.” A fresh wave of blubbery tears overtook her.

Braph? She'd killed him?

“I killed my pa.” And then she was bawling into his shoulder, her fist pounding him.

Jonas clutched her to him and rocked. He didn't utter a sound, simply waited, and let her find her release. She whispered the words over and over, “I killed him, I killed my pa,” as if willing herself to believe it, or trying to force herself to feel all the blame in that statement. Or confessing.

Her trembling hand reached down beside her and came up with his knife. She pressed back from him and pushed the weapon to his chest. Instinctively, his hand came up to clasp hers.

Without emotion she repeated, “I killed my pa.” Her eyes were flat, almost lifeless. “I killed my pa. I killed a child...”

“Llew—”

“I killed my pa. I killed that girl.” She pushed the knife at him.

“Stop it, Llew.”

“Please,” she begged in a hoarse whisper. “I don't want to do it anymore.”

“I won't let you. But not that way.” He gripped the knife, taking it from her grasp, and whisked it behind his back when she snatched for it.

“You have to! Please!” She tried to reach behind him.

With his other arm, he pulled her to him in a firm embrace, blocking her efforts. “Not that way.”

She tried to break free. She pushed at him, and she was surprisingly strong, but he held firm, until she gave up and slumped into him.

He held her like that for a long while until he began to wonder if she'd fallen asleep. She must have been exhausted. He tilted his head to see if her eyes were closed, but her head angled down too much to see. When he raised his head again, she looked up at him, worn, tired, and hopeless.

“Come on. The others'll be wonderin' where I got to. And there's no doubtin' they'll be pleased to see you.” Jonas stood up, holding her hand to guide her up, and keeping the Syakaran knife behind his back.

Llew knelt but didn't rise any further.

Holding his hand between the fingers of both of hers she said, “They'll hate me. They should hate me. You should hate me. I killed my pa. I killed the girl, and the boy and the other girl, and all the animals... so many animals. Dead, because of me. All dead.” Holding a couple of his fingers with one hand, she toyed with one of his knuckles, fiddling with what was before her. The tears were about to start again. “I'm. horrible. A monster.”

“Whatever you've done, you got friends, Llew.” He pulled her up and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pressing her into him again. “Friends who love you.” At least one. “Friends who will help you through this.”

But she was despondent and didn't seem to have heard him. She looked exhausted, all the puff washed out with her tears, her shoulders hunched, her eyes still lifeless.

“Can you still run?”

“I guess so.” She sniffed deeply. “But I won't know where to stop.”

“Come on.” He held a hand out to her.

He ran, not as fast as before because she couldn't have kept up, but fast, nonetheless. It was a challenge, navigating through the trees with Llew's hand in his, but it felt extraordinary. He hadn't run like this since Kierra was alive. But Kierra had been Syakaran. What had Braph done to Llew?

Looking at her as he thought the question was a mistake. He crashed into a trunk and fell back, pulling Llew down with him. She was laughing, and he laughed, too. And, despite cracking into the tree at high speed, his head didn't hurt so badly.

Neither did his knuckles.

“Oh, Al!” Llew threw herself into the sandy-haired man's arms and Jonas's insides clenched. “I've missed you all.” Llew clung to Alvaro too long in Jonas's opinion. Thankfully, she released him and moved to draw Cassidy into a hug.

Disentangling herself from Cassidy, she turned to Hisham. The two of them looked at each other, trying to work out whether a similar greeting was called for, considering they barely knew each other. Then both gave the universal 'to hell with it' shrug and embraced briefly.

Cassidy brought her horse forward and Llew smiled at the sight of the golden-white Amico, and then turned to Jonas. Her eyes dropped to the knife in his hand then came up to meet his. “Get me out of here.”

Jonas nodded. He didn't disagree they needed to move, but he wondered at what was going on behind those eyes. She'd asked him to kill her. And there was something different about her, like she was fighting an enemy inside. He wished he was better with people. The easy connection they'd built during their time in Aghacia had all but disappeared.

He moved to help her into the saddle, but she swung up easily on her own, and sat waiting, not looking at any of them. He caught Alvaro's questioning look and returned a warning one of his own. Whatever was going on with Llew did not mean Alvaro could move in.

Hisham and Cassidy were already mounted. And Jonas and Alvaro were about to mount when Llew's horse moved, startled.

Jonas spun to look at Llew. She sat, stiff, staring away at something. He finished the turn more slowly, to face Braph.

Chapters

22: Get Me Out Of Here

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