Page 87 of The Threadbare Queen

“Why would he do something like that?” Luc couldn’t understand it.

“I don’t know. He was in a panic. He never thought they would venture this far from the Jatan border.”

“But they did.”

“He . . .” She spoke slowly, as if only now figuring it out herself. “He threw himself on Hurst’s sword. Almost as if he were trying to die.”

A heavy weight settled on Luc’s chest. What a waste. What a terrible waste.

“Luc?”

“I’m here.” He tapped the tent with his fingers. “Stay safe, Kym. Kikir will be shadowing you. He’ll find you when Tuart lets you go.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Joacim was your heart’s choice?” He couldn’t think of any other reason she would have risked so much.

She didn’t answer, but he could hear the quiet sound of her sobs.

“I’ll see you in Bintinya.” His words were not sufficient for the pain she was feeling, but no words would be.

Luc moved away from the tent and back through the trees to find Massi and the others waiting.

“What is it?” Massi was studying his face with concern.

“Nothing.” Luc indicated to her to lead the way. War was war. And he was tired of it.

Chapter 21

Tuart left at dawn.

The Rising Wave had needed the night to rest and eat, and to wait for the reinforcements one of his soldiers had ridden back to Bintinya to collect, so even though Luc wanted to have left before Tuart emerged from the hidden camp, he accepted the necessity of waiting, pleased at least they were achieving several goals at once.

Kikir watched the small unit from atop his saddle, and as soon as they disappeared from sight, he turned, extending his hand.

Luc extended his own, clasping the Skäddar just below his elbow, and Kikir did the same. A warrior’s farewell.

“I’ll see you again.” Kikir flicked his reins, and then galloped after Tuart, vanishing into the dawn shadows.

Kikir had been gone barely ten minutes when a low whistle from one of Luc’s guards alerted him to the approach of horses from Bintinya.

As soon as he laid eyes on them, saw there were enough volunteers from the small village to make his plan workable, he rode off looking for Massi. He found her strapping the last of her things in her saddle bag.

“They’re here?” she asked.

“Looks like twenty or maybe a bit more.” He couldn’t hide the satisfaction in his voice.

She nodded. “We’ll chip away at their numbers, every time a raiding party leaves, we’ll take them down.”

He knew the easy way would be to kill them. But he was reluctant to take a step like that, and he could see Massi felt the same.

“Maybe the Bintinya volunteers will be able to suggest a good place to keep the Jatan prisoners. They’ll know this area well.”

She nodded and swung up into the saddle. “I’ll go meet them. Lay out the plan.”

He leaned over, pulled her to him in a one-armed hug. “Good luck.”

“It’ll be like spearing fish in a barrel, Luc. You’re the one who needs luck.”

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