Chapter 10

CHAPTER TEN

I t was a miserable day, not least because Lucia hadn’t slept at all the previous night. She had not tossed and turned nor had she gone for a walk to clear her head and tire herself out as she usually did whenever sleep evaded her, but rather she had lain there, staring at the engraved patterns of the tree right before her until they began to turn into familiar shapes. Everyone else would assume she was simply sleeping, but how could she when Alaric was tormenting her with each question he asked?

Why did he have to inquire about her scars? Why did he have to bring them up at all? If he had any decency, Lucia thought, he would have stayed silent, enduring his curiosity without ever receiving the satisfaction of an explanation.

He has nae right tae ask me anythin’.

They hardly knew each other, after all. Whatever honesty she had given him was already too much.

Thunder cracked in the distance and Lucia watched as the Ravencloaks gathered everything from their camp. Soon, they would be heading to their base, a cottage she had heard of many times but had never managed to locate. There, she hoped she could find out more about her brother’s death, but she already had a few targets in mind.

There was a group of men, half a dozen of them, who seemed more talkative than the rest. Lucia had watched them all morning, trading jokes and insults, neglecting their duties whenever they could, and already drinking more than their fair share of wine from the flasks until they were flushed with more than the cold wind. It didn’t hurt that they were looking her way more often than not, stealing glances whenever they thought she or Alaric weren’t looking.

Everyone did, of course. It must have been a long time since they had last seen a woman and they were neither shy nor bothered by the fact that she claimed to have a husband. Lucia couldn’t fault them for it, but she couldn’t resist taking advantage of it either.

Grabbing a flask of water, Lucia walked over to the men with a smile. In the distance, she could see Alaric staring at her when he should have been helping another group of men with one of the tents, but she ignored him. Whatever misplaced concerns he had were pointless.

“Ye’ve been workin’ fer a while now,” she told the men as she held out the flask for them to take. One of them reached for it, his fingers brushing against hers purposefully, a grin stretching over his lips, and Lucia made a mental note of him. Out of them all, he seemed like the boldest—and most likely the most cretinous. “Ye should rest afore ye exhaust yerselves.”

“We are hardworkin’ men,” the man said with a shrug and a smirk, before taking a large sip of water and passing the flask to the man to his right.

Lucia didn’t make a comment; nothing she could say could be taken as anything other than an insult. Instead, she watched the men for a few moments with blatant curiosity, one they were free to interpret as interest of any kind that suited them.

“A bonnie lass like ye shouldnae be out here with us,” another of the men said and Lucia only gave him a puzzled smile.

“Ye think I’m bonnie?”

The men all laughed, most of all the one who had spoken, whose cheeks turned a bright shade of red. In the end, they were all the same, so eager to fall for a sweet word and a coy look.

“Well… it’s nae dangerous fer me tae be here as long as ye are here with me, right?” she continued before the men had the chance to respond. “I’ve heard many things about the Ravencloaks.”

“Have ye?” the man asked. “What dae they say about us?”

“They say ye’re all fearsome an’ formidable,” Lucia said. “They say ye have the best o’ the best among ye. Like that man… what did they call him at the village?”

“Fergus?” said one man.

“Douglas?” said another.

“Nay, nay,” said Lucia shaking her head, but then gasped as if she had finally managed to pluck a half-forgotten memory from the depths of her mind. “Ronan… ooh aye, that was his name. Ronan Donnelly.”

Upon speaking her brother’s name, everyone went silent. Gone were their good spirits and mirth. Now they all seemed to pale, their faces wan and their expressions terrified as though they feared that Lucia speaking his name would bring him back from the dead.

She wished it could be that simple. She wished she could see him one more time, even as a ghost.

“We dinnae ken that name,” a third man said coldly. “There was never a Ronan Donnelly with the Ravencloaks.”

Lucia knew that to be false, of course, but she only hummed, regarding the man with a scrutinizing gaze for a few moments. “I must have been mistaken. Perhaps they were speakin’ o’ a different group.”

Silence stretched over them as Lucia continued to stare at the man in silence. All six of them were uneasy, some looking away, others shifting their weight from foot to foot, none of them speaking a word. Only when she heard footsteps behind her did Lucia look away, turning to see Tiernan there, standing right behind her with his hands on his hips.

“What are ye doin’?” he asked and it took Lucia a few instants to realize he was addressing the men. “Why are ye standin’ here like fools? Pack the tent, ye imbeciles.”

The men mumbled their apologies before swiftly returning to work and Lucia couldn’t help but wonder what Tiernan’s role was in the gang. She wished she had learned more about the Ravencloaks from her brother, but Ronan never wanted her to be a part of this life. It was what had gotten him killed in the first place; she hadn’t been there to save him.

“Was Ronan Donnelly truly nae a part o’ the group?” Lucia asked. It probably wasn’t the most elegant way to get the information she needed, but no one in the gang had any reason to suspect she was Ronan’s sister. She doubted Ronan had ever even revealed the fact that he had a sister at all, cautious as he was.

Tiernan gave her a bemused smile, eyes narrowing just a little. “Ronan Donnelly?”

He said nothing else, perhaps hoping that his silence would force Lucia to say more, just so she could fill it, but she wouldn’t fall into his trap. Instead, she nodded, giving him her most naive look, and in the end, it was Tiernan who broke first.

“How dae ye ken that name?”

Lucia shrugged a shoulder. “Everyone at our village said he was a terror.”

“Is that so?” Tiernan asked. “Well, we’re mercenaries. I should hope we’re all terrors.”

Lucia wasn’t going to get anything out of them, she knew, and especially not from Tiernan. They didn’t trust her, but that was not all. She suspected none of them wanted to talk about Ronan at all or that perhaps they were ordered to keep quiet about him. Either way, if she wanted to learn more about her brother and his death, she would have to be much more cunning than that.

Tiernan, if no one else at least, seemed like a clever man.

“Callum certainly seems a terror,” Lucia said, wondering if she could get some information on their leader if not on her brother.

Tiernan chuckled, but it was a humorless sound. For a moment, he glanced around and Lucia found that he was searching for Callum, as if he wanted to ensure he was too far to hear them. When his gaze fell on him, Lucia could have sworn that was a slight twitch of his lips, the slightest sign of disdain in his features.

It was curious, she thought. Did Tiernan not like Callum? Was there tension between them that she could exploit? Likely as it seemed in that moment, she would not yet risk anything. It was too soon and she didn’t yet know who, if any of those men, she could trust.

“We’ll be leavin’ soon,” Tiernan said. “Leave those fools tae their jobs an’ make sure tae dae yers. Just because ye can fight, it doesnae mean ye’re free tae be lazy now.”

There was no real bite behind Tiernan’s words but Lucia still took offence. She didn’t like being told what to do, nor did she appreciate being called lazy after everything she had done to get where she was. Tiernan, of course, knew none of that, she reminded himself, and so she only gave him a cold, tight smile that was more of a grimace than anything else.

Lazy! I’ll show ye lazy!

Clouds still lingered in the sky that morning when Callum gave the order for his men to strike camp so they could all depart. Alaric and Lucia had found them just in time, it seemed. Had they been only a day late, they would have missed them.

Whether that would have been better or worse, Alaric didn’t know. More than anything, he simply wanted to finish this mission—he had taken to thinking of Lucia’s plan as a mission in a desperate attempt to make the situation more familiar to him—as soon as possible, and so perhaps it was better that they had found them. Anything else would have only prolonged their journey and to Alaric, even a day gained was a victory.

Eager to find out more about Callum and the Ravencloaks, Alaric had been trailing the man all morning, but there was not much he had learned so far. Callum seemed to spend most of his time scowling at his men, barking orders, or simply strolling around, and Alaric had ended up spending more time on meaningless chores than he had on finding anything useful. It was only when he saw Callum approach the man Alaric had figured out was his closest advisor and confidante, a large and imposing man by the name of Douglas, that he thought perhaps he could finally hear something useful.

Following them at a distance, Alaric watched them intently but could hardly hear what they were saying as they walked to the river. Once they were near the bank, they came to a stop and Alaric took the chance to step closer and closer, silently making his way towards them under the cover of the rushing water. It was risky; if they saw or heard him, they were bound to question his motives and kill him on the spot, but Alaric would have never completed any of his missions if he cared more about his safety than he did about getting the information he needed.

The bank was slippery, the soil having turned into mud with the swift passage of the waters. The grass that grew over it only worsened the situation, and Alaric’s boots alternated between sinking into the soft ground and slipping over it, his breath coming out quick and foggy in the cold air. He crouched down, partly to keep his balance and partly to remain hidden, his hand skirting over the mud, and the closer he got to the two men, the clearer their voices became.

“We should have killed them when they first came here,” said Douglas.

Alaric didn’t have to wonder who it was they were talking about. It didn’t surprise him that Douglas would advise such a thing, either. Most, if not all, of the men in that clearing were suspicious of him and Lucia, wary and for good reason. Alaric could hardly expect anything else from them.

“Dae ye doubt me that much, Douglas?” Callum asked. “The lassie fought an’ won. A deal’s a deal.”

From where he crouched, Alaric could see Douglas—the slight purse of his lips, his arms crossed as he stared at Callum expectantly. When Callum said nothing more, Douglas asked, “An’ what if they’re lyin’?”

“Then we kill them,” said Callum. “Simple as that.”

This only confirmed what Alaric had already known. He and Lucia had to be very careful not to do anything that would draw to much attention to them, and yet there he was, eavesdropping on Callum and his right-hand man.

It was a bad idea. They had to gain their trust first and then they could figure out a way to learn more about the Ravencloaks and Lucia’s brother, even if that method would take much longer.

Will they ever trust us? Or is this naethin’ but a waste o’ time?

For the time being, Alaric decided it was best to retreat. Slowly, he crept over the bank once more, this time heading back to the clearing, but now his shoes were coated in mud and the trek back was more difficult than before. He moved as slowly as he could afford, looking around him to make sure no one was there to spot him, and that was when he saw Lucia standing nearby, watching him with wide eyes.

Alaric waved her off, but she remained there, glancing between him and Callum, but there was no reason for concern. Alaric had everything under control.

Or at least so he thought until his foot slipped on a particularly slick part of the bank and his hand shot out, looking for anything that would stop his fall. Small rocks tumbled down, disturbed by his movements, and in his haste to move, his feet stomped on the ground only to sink deeper and deeper into the mud, every minute motion creating a ruckus.

He was a dead man. There was no way Callum and Douglas—and even the entire clearing—hadn’t heard him.

“Help! Help!”

The sudden shrieks cut through all the noise he made, covering it up. In his haste, Alaric didn’t realize what was happening until he had managed to pull himself onto solid ground and saw everyone rushing to Lucia, who was in hysterics. Even Callum and Douglas ran to her, confused by her sudden screaming.

“A snake!” Lucia yelled, pointing frantically at the ground. “There is a giant snake! Be careful, be careful!”

Within moments, she had every man in the clearing looking for a snake that Alaric was quite certain did not exist. They were all marching around with their swords in their hands, eyes glued to the ground and gaze panicked, terrified they would be the ones to suffer a venomous bite.

And Alaric, now safe from harm, could only chuckle as Lucia looked at him with a smirk, smug and triumphant.