“Everly…” I want to explain—to make Everly understand. But what can I possibly say?
As I struggle with words, lines deepen across her brow as she continues digging into the sand. “You need to know the truth about our chieftains.” She glances at Cenric, who stares straight ahead. “Did Hector tell you?”
I swallow and shake my head.
“In the last twenty summers...” Everly begins in a grief-stricken voice, “...three of our tribal leaders were murdered. First, there was Hector’s grandfather. He was a wonderful man. Then, it was his eldest son, Hector’s uncle. He was even better than his father. He was brutally murdered in front of Hector. As was his grandfather. Did you know that?”
“No.” Well, I knew about his grandfather. Hector never spoke of his uncle.
“Roland was his father’s spare. He was never supposed to be chieftain.” Pain sparks behind her words as she continues. “The night his brother died, he vowed to avenge him. And he took that vow to the Kyanites. Your people. I am not making excuses for him. He was a terrible person. But that chain of events has led us to this point. To you. To your hatred and your need for vengeance. For what happened. Do you see? It’s never going to end unless people like us make it stop.”
Maybe she can be different. I cannot. I have already walked a path with no turns or detours.
“I didn’t know Roland was dead,” I say after several moments of suffocating silence. “If I had known, I would have never come here.”
“I believe you.”
I squeeze my hand into a fist. “I’m sorry I disappointed you, Everly.” Those six words are the sincerest words I have spoken since that horrible day when I struck Hector with a knife. The rawest. The most painful for me to say.
She stares at me, her gaze guarded by the clouds immersing her eyes. “Kassandra would forgive you.” My chest tightens as Everly offers a smile and continues. “So, I have decided to forgive you.”
“You have?” I blink and glance down at my bound hands.
I don’t deserve it.
“Yes. Maybe someday we might even be friends.” She stands, nods at Cenric, and moves to a nearby wagon.
I need a friend like Everly. Someone to talk with. To laugh with again. Someone to remind me that there is still hope.
I long to ask her about the red circles. Her family. Hector.
But I have no right to ask for her friendship, her confidence, or her forgiveness.
Sadness coils around me. Such heart-wrenching sadness.
I betrayed more than just Hector when I threw that knife at him.
“Tsk, tsk, tsk.” I whip around as Mildred shuffles by, shaking her head. “Yes, Annaleigh. I know. And I agree,” she says with a tilt of her head as though she’s conversing with someone much shorter. “But all is not lost. I will find it. I will find it.”
Her voice trails off as she ducks into her tent.
The moment she is gone, the long blast of a horn splits the air, shifting my attention to the clearing and the twenty-five Bloodstone barbarians standing there. They divide into pairs with wooden practice swords.
I should have known they wouldn’t go long without honing their skills.
Hector orders the remaining warriors to guard the camp…and me. I ignore Cenric and focus on the men preparing to face off.
Flurries scatter through the air and settle on Hector and Luc, who don’t waste time attacking each other. Hector goes on the offensive. Luc on the defensive. Over and over, Hector attacks, and Luc deflects him.
Hector fights in quick, precise strokes. Luc counters with wilder, untamed strikes, as if Hector goads him to lose his focus.
He probably does.
Hector delivers a powerful blow, and Luc’s weapon flies from his grasp as he stumbles back. His cousin pauses, granting Luc time to pick up his sword again before another onslaught. The younger man rages back, smacking Hector across the arm with his left hand. Hector grunts and carries on, relentless in his pursuit of victory.
I remember the tales I had heard about Hector before I met him. They said he wielded two swords in battle, a feat I have not witnessed.
He shoves his weapon hard into Luc’s body, pushing him off balance. The shorter man tumbles back into the dirt. Dust kicks into the air as he scrambles to gather a handful of pebbles and sand to fling at his cousin. Hector spins away from the incoming barrage.
