Page 31 of Kept to Kill
‘It was an accident,’ she whispered, hating the way the Brothers looked at her; with a mix of disbelief and, in Quin’s case, unbridled fury.
‘You stupid little harpy,’ he snarled, and she wrapped her arms around herself in misery.
‘It was my fault,’ Bastian said calmly, and she shot him a look.
It was as if he didn’t even care that he was going to die. Perhaps he still didn’t believe that he would. She’d briefly met those sorts of people in her travels with Vineri, the ones who didn’t believetheywere going to die – until they fell on the ground, incredulity etched on their lifeless faces.
‘It was my fault,’ Bastian said again. ‘It was when I pulled her from the sea.’ He showed his hand, wiggling his fingers, a sort ofruefulexpression on his ridiculously handsome face that would soon be gray and dead.
Lily’s face contorted in sadness. He should have let her drown. Why had he bothered to save her? So she could kill some more people? She stared at the fire in agony, knowing Quin’s eyes were still trained on her.
‘Why aren’t you dead, then?’
‘Before … it would take a day or two so …’ She trailed off and drew her knees up to her chest.
‘So you’ll be dead in less than two days?’
Bastian shrugged. ‘Perhaps. Perhaps not. Maybe because our hands were wet it didn’t work. Maybe I’ll keel over in the snow tomorrow. Who can say but the fates?’
‘Fuck! Should have brought the soldiers,’ Quin said half to himself.
‘Why didn’t you?’ Lily asked.
He waved a hand. ‘Because I’m the Commander of the Dark Army. Less people traveling with me means my movements are not as remarked upon,’ he answered absently.
Lily said nothing more. In truth she was still reeling from the panic she’d felt on the boat after Bastian had dragged her out of the water. There was no boat, no inn, nowhere to close herself into. It was a nightmare come to life. She was trapped in the open. She’d been able to hide it on the boat, waiting until everyone had disembarked before her heart had begun to hammer and she’d begun to sweat as she’d huddled in the bottom. She’d concentrated on the small things; the feel of the boat, the wet of the clothes on her back, the sound of her tapping her fingers on the wooden bench.
She’d been surprised that Bastian had been so kind, especially after what she had done. She buried her head in her hands. Another was going to die and she couldn’t do anything to stop it.
Chapter 7
Mal
They all ate the rabbits Mal had caught in silence, and he was glad they’d stopped their incessant chatter. He realized he was staring at Lily again and stood up with a scowl, taking his bedroll from his pack and remembering he had hers as well. Why Quin hadn’t given the girl her own bag to carry, he didn’t know. It was probably so she wouldn’t have any provisions should she try to escape them.
She was lucky he’d been on deck when the creature had attacked or she’d be floating face-down in the waves about now. They all would be. The sailors had run for the boats to escape the sinking ship like rats, and it was only because Mal had threatened the last of them that they hadn’t cut the ropes and been long gone by the time Lily, Quin, and Bastian were able to get topside. As it was, one of them had rushed him. He’d had to slit the prick’s stomach open and throw him over the side. After that, the ones left had been more reasonable.
He unrolled Lily’s bed and put it close to the fire. Then he put his on the outside of hers so that she wouldn’t be able to rise and sneak off without him knowing about it.
She looked surprised that she even had a bed, murmuring her thanks to him and even offering him a tentative smile that had him turning his back on her, pretending to ignore her.
He bedded down and closed his eyes, hearing the rest of them doing the same. As always, he would take first watch and Quin would relieve him later. Bastian was meant to be after that, but when it was his turn, Mal would be awake. He didn’t trust the man. They still had no idea where he’d even come from. They had men who appeared sometimes, fancying themselves good enough fighters to be Brothers. They almost always died during the combat trials. But Bastian had done very well. Too well, in Mal’s opinion. There was something more to the man than wine, jokes, and women, and Mal didn’t mean thegiftsthat some of the Brothers had. There was something about Bastian. He had secrets, and a Brother shouldn’t have secrets from his unit. It made them weak.
Quin should have refused the bond with Bastian in the first place. It might be rare for a Commander to go against the wishes of the gods, but it wasn’t unheard of. Mal had read the runes himself and knew Greygor had ignored their outcomes countless times. He’d gotten Brothers killed because of it, including their own unit’s third before Bastian had joined them, in his pursuit of power, it was true. But he wished Quin would simply ignore what those fucking stones said, if only this once. Even if the gods on the Mount were real, their wrath would be better than this fractured unit they now had. Quin wouldn’t keep his command of the Army long if they didn’t mend it. Unless, of course, Bastian succumbed to Lily’s death touch. Mal hoped the bastard did. Perhaps then they’d get a better third; stronger, more in command of himself.
Mal breathed out slowly. But if he did survive, Mal would likely have to swallow his pride and try to abide the fellow, he supposed, even if he had shown himself to be mostly incompetent. They had no wine with them now. It would be water from the mountain streams for at least two days. Mal wondered if Bastian would crack without his vices. He grinned nastily. That would be something to watch.
He lay for an age, listening to the breathing of Lily and the others and the sounds around them, but no one ventured near. The sailors would likely stay on the beach and try to signal a passing ship rather than make the journey inland. They knew the sea best, not the land’s terrain, after all. But Mal doubted another ship would come this way for at least a week. It was faster to go on foot.
At some point, he heard Quin stir and let himself drift into sleep.
The morning brought a fair day and Mal woke to the sound of hard biscuits being unwrapped for breakfast and was surprised that, firstly, it was Bastian who was up and about and, secondly, that he hadn’t woken when it was that idiot’s turn to keep watch. Mal didn’t like that they’d been vulnerable, that Bastian has been their one and only line of defense for the latter part of the night – especially as he could theoretically die at any moment. But he caught the biscuit that was thrown at him and ate it, kicking Lily awake gently and finding that he liked the little moan she made when he did.
‘Not dead yet?’ Quin inquired and Bastian snorted.
‘Sorry to disappoint you, Brother.’
Mal noted that Lily looked relieved that he hadn’t succumbed. Why should she care if Bastian, or indeed any of them, died? They were her jailers, and if Quin had his way, she’d be dead after she did the job they’d brought her north to do. But, then, she didn’t know that. Perhaps she thought Quin would let her go when it was done.
