Page 34 of Kept to Kill
Though Mal saw Quin hardly look at the fortress, the others’ gazes flitted to it frequently, and for some reason it made him furious. Furious that they were looking at it, furious that it was still there at all. Why had the bogs not swallowed the cursed thing up? He pushed at his side, the one Bastian had hurt yesterday, as he seethed. These people weren’t his Brothers. Not like Quin was, not like Payn had been, curse the bastard. He’d thought he’d be rid of them soon, that she’d get herself killed in Kitore in a few days and that Bastian would die today, but the prick seemed fine. He wished he could help him along to his reward, but it was against the most important of the Army’s laws. You didn’t kill the members of your own unit. He doubted he’d even be able to raise a hand to the man if his intent was to mortally wound. The wards that were invoked during the binding ritual, ancient blood magick, would probably spring to life and stop him somehow. He spat in the dirt. Pity.
They arrived at yet another inn. Unlike the practically derelict one they’d stayed in at the edge of the mountains, this one was busier with a few merchant travelers who’d arrived early and were eagerly waiting for the passes to become accessible again so they could take the trade routes south.
More than a few turned and gaped when they were noticed traveling from the wrong direction.
‘Are the passes thawed already?’ one brave soul inquired, and Quin shook his head.
‘No. We were shipwrecked off the coast and had to trek the final hills. Be a few weeks yet,’ he replied as he went indoors to get them a room for the night amidst audible groans from the many peddlers who’d been hoping it was time to move on.
Next to him, Lily stifled a yawn, looking dead on her feet, and he rolled his eyes. How did this tiny, weak girl have so much power flowing through her veins? Bastian caught his eye and gave him a dark look that promised something that made Mal shiver inwardly. He gave Bastian a cold smile as he followed Quin, bashing his shoulder into Lily hard enough to send her sprawling in the mud as he passed her, ignoring them both.
Inside there were only a few people in the tap room, but enough that there was a hum of conversation that became discernibly quieter as the black of their clothing was noted.
Mal thought perhaps some fool would ask them their business. It was rare, but it did happen, and then they’d be forced to teach the hapless idiot or two a lesson. He found for once, though, that he was in no mood to mete out any abuse.
Then the door opened and closed behind him. He turned to find Lily, now covered in mud, scowling at his back, and his lips curled into a tight grin. Perhaps he was in the mood after all. The anticipation of punishing her and, in fact, Bastian simply for harassing him with their continued presence in the unit made him feel lighter somehow. He didn’t know how he was going to make them suffer, but it would either be very petty or very dark indeed. His eyes narrowed. And it would very much depend on his mood in the moment.
* * *
There was onlyone room and they were lucky to get that. Quin had been half afraid they’d have to camp out in the stables, and though he knew that wouldn’t bother Mal or Bastian, he could see that the journey was taking its toll on Lily. Not only could she clearly use a hot meal and a warm bed, but she must have slipped over in the stable yard, because she was covered in mud.
He frowned at her. It wouldn’t do if she sickened and died before she could be of use. That was the only reason he was ensuring her wellbeing. He paid extra for their meals to be brought to the room he’d procured for the night. There were too many people in the tap room wanting to chat for his liking, and none of them seemed to be scared enough of Dark Brothers. All of them looked like they’d engage him in unwanted conversation if he sat down. Clearly it had been too long since the Army had been camped in the north. People had forgotten that it was best to give Brothers a wide berth.
He gestured for Lily to go upstairs and he followed behind her slowly, showing her to the room and giving it a once-over before she entered. She looked at him curiously but didn’t say anything about his behavior – even if she did notice anything odd about it.
‘Food will be up in a bit,’ he told her as the other two traipsed into the room, throwing their bags down and each taking a chair at the table.
Quin supposed they were all tired. It had been a long few days since they’d left the Army. He knew he hadn’t truly let his guard down even for a moment in that time, and his Brothers hadn’t either. Not even Bastian, who, since they’d left, had shown himself to be much more useful than he’d anticipated.
And it wasn’t just Bastian who was different. Mal had spoken. He’d heard him clear as day. Only one word, but, as far as Quin knew, his Brother had never spoken, not since joining the Army, at any rate. What had made him do so now? His gaze locked on the woman who traveled with them and his eyes narrowed.
Lily stood in the middle of the room, eyeing the men and seeming not to know what to do with herself. Mal was watching her with disdain as usual and Bastian with something else in his face that Quin didn’t want to look too closely at. He had enough problems to deal with at present. The biggest being, was Bastian going to die tonight? It was the second day, after all. He felt a pang as he thought about losing another Brother. It happened, of course it did. It was the reality of their lives, but that didn’t make losing family any easier. Payn had been the first Brother from his own unit that he’d ever lost. The thought of losing another so soon, or indeed ever again, left him feeling hollow and sick. It didn’t matter that he hardly knew Bastian. A Brother was a Brother.
And he noticed the dark looks that Mal and Bastian were giving each other. There was something going on, something more than petty rivalry, that had something to do with their fight on the road, and he’d bet anything the woman was right in the middle of that too.
He knew, looking at Mal, that if Bastian didn’t die today, Mal would find a way to do it. Not directly – the power of the wards wouldn’t allow it – but Mal wouldn’t think twice about engineering an accident. And, knowing him, he wouldn’t feel a modicum of guilt afterwards. Likely he’d not even think about it again. That was how Mal was when someone got in his way. Quin knew it had been him that killed all those Rats in the camp before they left, though he couldn’t fathom why. Perhaps he’d just felt the need to kill. Mal had joined the Brothers not because he’d wanted to be part of the Army, but because he was a wanted man.
Mal was a murderer and, in truth, had the Army not taken him, he’d have been hunted and put down like a beast. That he had excelled in his training and become a Brother wasn’t surprising. He’d been a stone-cold killer before he’d joined. The Army had honed his skills, made him even more formidable, but also given him the purpose he’d needed not to descend into madness … well, notcompletemadness, anyway. Though the way he was eying Bastian and Lily, Quin wasn’t sure anymore. He needed to speak to him, but gods only knew what he’d say.
He rubbed his stubbly jaw. His unit was ripping itself apart at the seams and he hadn’t even noticed until now. He was meant to be the leader. Gods, Greygor had been a massive cunt, but he’d made being Commander look easy all while keeping his unit strong – at least it had appeared that way from the outside. The reality hadn’t been quite so clear-cut, or so he’d found out when he and the others had strung up the previous commander for his betrayal of the Dark Army and the other two men he called Brother hadn’t raised a hand to stop them. But no one had known their bond was weak. If he, Mal, and Bastian were in the camp right now, everyone would be able to see the rifts between them.
What had happened with Greygor’s unit still haunted him, if he was honest with himself. From the outside they’d been a steadfast group, but they’d all hated each other behind the veneer. Was that what his unit would be like, all at each other’s throats for the rest of their lives? He shook his head slightly.
‘By the gods, woman, would you just sit down?’ he thundered and watched Lily tense. She didn’t look at him, just sat down hard on a chair and stared at her lap.
There was a bang on their door and he answered it. A woman and two younger girls stood outside, each carrying a large copper kettle of hot water, which they deposited into the greenish copper bath in the corner. They left immediately, promising to bring more to fill it and that their supper would also be ready shortly.
He dug Lily’s spare clothes from his pack and put them on the table.
‘You can have the bath first,’ he told her, and she blinked up at him as if unsure of whether he was being kind or if it was a trick of some sort.
He waved a hand at her, turning away as she stood and walked, a bit unsteadily, he thought, to the bath.
‘There’s no screen,’ she said, not turning around.
‘Check under the beds,’ he said absently as he noticed Bastian and Mal watching her.
‘Ah, here’s one,’ he heard her say, and he listened as she dragged it out and put it up, the cloth obscuring the bathing corner.
