Page 65 of The Great and Terrible

“Ouch. That sucks.”

“I agree with Patch.” Leona’s shoulders slumped. “Two years after my wedding, my husband was beheaded for stealing to feed me and my sister. He was a good man, and now I have to live without him.”

And I thought I’d needed a break. “That sucks.”

“What about your obsession with, what was his name? Oh yeah. Drogan,” Patch said, as blunt as always.

Leona scowled. “My feelings might have softened toward him a wee bit. Satisfied now? But he was my first ray of hope in locating Claudia. I believe he would’ve kept his word and helped me find her, if I’d only released him. That was my plan for the third lottery.”

I reached out and patted her hand in a show of sympathy.

“Hey, where’d you get the band?” Patch motioned to my mother’s ring, glittering so prettily from my finger.

“I’ve always worn it.” Truth. I rushed to turn the spotlight elsewhere. “How did you end up in West’s stable?”

“Oh. That.” She dragged a finger through the dirt. “I lost my ma at twelve and struck out on my own. Teamed up with Amell, the boy I mentioned. He protected me and others on the streets. We all looked out for each other. A rival gang captured and sold the lot of us to different governors. West picked me and offered a choice. Agree to his terms or die immediately.”

“That’s awful.” Those poor kids.

“Any of your friends still alive?” Leona inquired.

Anguish flashed Patch’s features. A show of emotion she instantly regretted, as evidenced by her puffing chest. “No, but I’m fine. Fine, I tell you!”

Even expecting rejection, I reached out and patted her hand, too, sharing what comfort I could. Leona rested her head on the girl’s shoulder. To my surprise, Patch teared up, accepting our gestures. But of course, she also wiped her nose on her arm and snipped, “I’m not in the market for new friends so don’t go getting any ideas. I prefer to be warm right now, that’s all.”

Her vulnerability destroyed every bit of resentment I’d harbored toward her. No wonder she fought so hard toremain in her self-imposed solitary confinement. Hurt and betrayed left scars others couldn’t see.

“Brace yourself,” Leona said, “because I already like you. I’m sorry, okay! I couldn’t help myself. You remind me so much of Claudia. I’ve been searching for her forever. She’s my only living family member, and I miss her terribly.”

Wow. Both ladies had swum in an ocean of agonies. We weren’t so different, really, each of us determined to find our way in the world. I missed my father and feared for his wellbeing. Was he taking his medication? Crying over my loss? Worsening?

I missed Nugget, too. I’d only spent a couple days with the rabdog, but I loved him.

You’ve known Jasher longer.

I inwardly sputtered.

The storm died as quickly as it started, the sun casting bright golden rays through the canopy of leaves. A substitute had died.

We stood, stored our blankets and waited in terse silent.

And waited.

A twig finally snapped in the distance. I palmed my dagger. Leona scrambled behind me, and Patch put up her dukes, ready for combat.

Jasher stalked through a cluster of gnarled branches, and a ragged noise left me. He was wet, streaked with blood, and grim-faced, but I didn’t care.

I sheathed the weapon and threw my arms around him, clinging. “You’re okay.”

Just like he’d done in the clearing during the first part of training, he hesitated before returning my embrace. But oh, when he did it, he engulfed me, burying his face in the hollow of my neck.

“What happened?” I asked.

“I helped another guard find the culprit,” he replied, gruff. “The man deserved what he got.”

I tightened my hold. We stayed like that until Leona cleared her throat and Patch made gagging noises.

“Let’s go.” He swiped up the pack and stalked off. He also picked up the hat as he passed it, spun, and plopped the piece on my head.

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