Page 75 of Bloodguard

“Damn,” I say. “They’re so hearty.”

Maeve plays with the reins, fiddling with the straps when she realizes how badly they’re twisted. “I know. But they were infected first, and I couldn’t come up with a remedy in time. I was able to help everyone else—specifically those in Uni and Neh-Neh’s part of the city.” She sighs but doesn’t seem to beat herself up about it. That’s good. A healer with perspective. Maeve really is the finest person I know. “I just hope Soro doesn’t seek them out.”

“Would he have a reason to target them?” I ask. I don’t know enough about Arrow’s internal politics.

“No. But…” She shrugs. “It’s hard to say. Soro doesn’t trust any of the newcomers to Arrow. The infection I just mentioned, along with a few others that were just as unfamiliar, sparked prejudice. If he had his way, he’d cast them all out and not let anyone in.”

That’s a sentiment that contradicts everything Arrow stands for. It’s long been a realm of peace, of opportunity, of equality…or so the stories go.

Well, I learned firsthand that most of that is bullshit, but this is the first I’m hearing of a high-ranking royal—a general, no less—actively campaigning to abolish open borders or to punish immigrants.

“Soro picks fights solely for an excuse to fine them.” She quiets. “Or worse, as you know.”

She means the “criminals” that they’ve started throwing in the arena with us.

“Vitor…as regent,” she whispers. “He could stop these raids. But he doesn’t, and I truly cannot conceive of why. I’ve asked several times. Instead, he’ll throw me a bone on something less controversial. He’s not the same man I once considered family.”

We ride into the Iamond family stables, dismounting and passing the reins to a sleepy attendant. I scratch my steed behind the ears and promise to bring her an apple in the morning.

Before we even leave the stables, Maeve is swarmed with chittering balls of fuzz. The estrellas reach into her saddlebags with grabby fingers, and Maeve—laughing, radiant with joy—pulls out the little trinkets she bought them at the toy stand today. A particularly large one delicately plucks a stuffed dog from her palm, sniffs it, then bounces away, tail high. Maeve is still beaming as we cross the lawn to the main house.

Candlelight flickers in every window of the manor, and moonlight doves huddle along the eaves, the brightening moon adding a sheen to their dark-purple plumage as we step onto the slate terrace and make our way toward the rear entrance of the manor.

Maybe I shouldn’t, but I take her hand in mine. Maeve stiffens at the contact but almost immediately clutches my hand as if afraid to let go. The way I hold her isn’t the same way I clutched and half dragged her during our escape. It’s gentle, intimate in a way I’ve never felt before.

“Leith, Vitor has his moments where he hears me so well and is so incredibly kind.” Her hold on me tightens. “And then he does something like tonight, where he turns his back and allows Soro to run amuck…”

I find it hard to believe Vitor is ever really kind. It’s simply a side he shows Maeve so what little power he grants her, she actually believes she wields. But they have a history, and tonight is not a night for scrutiny. She needs someone to hear her, so I do.

I look back, continuing to ensure that we weren’t followed. I couldn’t have defeated Soro and all his guards alone, but had they threatened Maeve, I damn well would have tried.

“You’ll need to increase security,” I tell her. “You know that, right?”

Whatever the status quo was with her “uncle” and his heinous son, I’d bet my sword arm that things have changed. Tonight was proof of that.

She nods.

“Thank you for helping me today,” Maeve says. “Can I tell you something without you taking offense?”

I shrug. “Probably not.”

She laughs, then bites her lower lip.

“What is it?” I ask.

“I paid for a messenger hawk to deliver your earnings after your last fight, like you wanted,” she says.

“And…?”

“I did something without your blessing,” she admits.

I square my jaw. “What else is new?”

She laughs in that way that lights her eyes despite the dimness. “It’s something good. I promise,” she tells me.

On an evening this dark, Maeve shouldn’t appear so exquisite. But like the sun’s, the moon’s rays are her friend, reflecting off the shiny strands of her loose hair.

“Oh,” she says. “I almost forgot. I’ll just be a second.” She opens the door to the manor and lifts an envelope from the kitchen table, leaving me in suspense. She returns to the terrace when she realizes that I didn’t follow her inside.

---