Chapter 14

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

A laric snatched his head away from Lucia’s grip, hissing as she applied a salve that stung over the wound on his forehead. They had both been badly beaten and Alaric’s entire face throbbed and ached, his head feeling heavy on his shoulders. All he wanted to do was sleep, but Lucia had been adamant they had to clean the wounds first and make sure they wouldn’t be infected, otherwise all their effort would have been for nothing.

When he pulled back from her, she gave him an incredulous look. “Are you a bairn? Come here, let me clean the cut.”

Alaric rolled her eyes at her, but no matter how much he wanted to point out that the salve stung and Lucia was not particularly gentle with the way she was applying it, he remained silent, gritting his teeth through the pain. He would not be accused of being weak just because of this when he had just endured so much torture.

“How did ye ken?” Alaric asked, looking at Lucia in the soft light of the fire. Everyone else, save for those who guarded the perimeter, had already fallen asleep, and it was only the two of them by the fire, nursing their wounds.

Alaric knew Lucia must have known exactly what he meant, but she still asked, “How did I ken what?”

“How did ye ken it was them an’ nae an enemy?” Alaric clarified impatiently. “How dae ye ken so much about brigands an’ their tactics? How da ye ken all this?”

“Ye’ve asked me afore,” Lucia reminded him. “An’ me answer is the same. I have met many men like them in me life.”

“Aye, perhaps,” said Alaric, “but that doesnae mean ye should ken how they operate. How would ye ken if ye’re nae a part o’ the group?”

Lucia gave him a sharp look but said nothing as she moved to another cut, this one on his cheek. The man who had dealt that punch must have been wearing a ring, Alaric thought, as he had felt the sharp sting of it and his skin had been cut open.

Bastards! It’ll take weeks fer me tae heal!

It would take Lucia weeks, too, he knew as he gazed at her mangled face. A bruise the color of deepest wine had already formed over her eye, her lip was swollen and bleeding, and her wrists and ankles bore the marks of those men’s hands. They had been brutal with them both and he hated the thought that Lucia was in as much pain as he was.

He had failed her. Logically, he knew there was nothing he could have done to stop this, but logic didn’t matter when Lucia was sitting in front of him, wincing with every move.

Through it all, though, she didn’t make a single sound. She had never once screamed while being tortured, save for when she had performed for the men, shouting Alaric’s name and begging them to leave him unharmed.

That was some performance. Is it truly this easy fer her tae lie? Tae pretend?

If she could pretend so well about this, what else was she pretending about? Alaric was certain there were many things she was hiding from him, but now he was beginning to suspect that there could also be things about which she was lying outright.

“I dinnae ken what ye mean,” Lucia said with a small shrug as she finished treating Alaric’s wounds. “It is only logical that they would be the ones tae dae this tae us. Who else would attack the Ravencloaks?”

“We attacked them,” Alaric reminded her. “It was yer plan an’ it worked.”

“Aye, but since then, Callum has posted more guards,” Lucia said. “An’ the Ravencloaks have a reputation. Few are foolish enough tae attack them.”

Alaric was about to point out that they were two of the fools who had tried it, but Lucia sealed the jar with the ointment, placed it back in her belongings, and curled up next to the fire without another word. Alaric took it for what it was—an end to the conversation, one that wasn’t negotiable.

After everything, he was exhausted, too, but he was also too anxious and nervous to sleep. Drawing his knees up to his chest, he covered himself in his new cloak—black as ink, like the ones all the other men in the Ravencloaks wore—and pondered what all this meant for him.

Naturally, he didn’t consider himself a true part of the gang. He wasn’t a brigand or a mercenary, nor would he ever be. And yet, he knew that from now on, he would be forced to do plenty of things that went against his morals if he wanted to keep their cover. How could he claim to be any different from them if he was doing the exact same things they were, committing the exact same crimes?

Now, more than ever, he regretted ever agreeing to this. A part of him wished he had refused Lucia’s help and had instead found his own means of escape. He could have returned home, married Kayla, and lived a good, happy life. But now there he was, officially a part of a gang of brigands.

Another part of him, though, one he was desperately trying to ignore, reminded him he would have never gotten to know Lucia if he had returned to his life.

Lucia lay next to the fire, curled into herself. Her entire body and face still ached, so much that it seemed impossible to get even a moment of rest.

It wasn’t really her physical injuries that which kept her from sleeping, though, she knew. Deep down, she was aware of the real reason, even though she didn’t want to admit it, not even to herself.

This was the second time Alaric had questioned her knowledge of gangs. Both times, Lucia had done her best to avoid his questions, but by giving him no answers, he was bound to continue asking her for the truth. So far, she had done whatever she could to keep her past hidden from him, only allowing what was necessary to slip through. Whatever she had revealed, she had done so in order to keep her plan going forward, and so she did not regret it, but perhaps she had to be more careful from now on.

Alaric wouldn’t understand if she told him the truth; at least not yet. Lucia needed time. Eventually, when the right time came, she would reveal everything to him, but she would say nothing more on the subject until then.

Would he hate her, Lucia wondered, once he found out who she truly was? Would he think less of her? Would he think she was just like everyone else in the Ravencloaks, nothing more than a common criminal who didn’t deserve any of his respect, let alone his assistance?

By then, Lucia would have her revenge, though. Even if Alaric ended up hating her, it would make no difference to her plan.

So why daes it bother me so tae think he’ll hate me?

That thought stayed with her until she opened her eyes the following morning. It was hardly past dawn, the first light breaking through the horizon. Next to her, the fire had died down to nothing more than embers but she didn’t feel the chill she expected for the time of the year.

It soon occurred to her the reason for the warmth she felt was Alaric, who was pressed up against her, the two of them sharing their body heat. Their legs were tangled under their cloaks, their breaths mingling in the sparse space between them, and just then, when Lucia began to wonder what she should do, he opened his eyes.

A strained moment passed between them, Lucia staring at that brilliant green. Then, the moment was broken and Alaric was pulling away as though he could not get away from her fast enough, and instinctively, Lucia did the same.

To say Alaric look terrified would be an understatement. To Lucia, he resembled a deer, caught by a hunter, frozen on the spot as it waited for its end. What was it that upset him so, she wondered? Surely, he had been near a woman before. Was it her who inspired such a terrible reaction in him?

The thought was like a knife to the chest. It stung, more than Lucia wanted to admit, but she wasn’t going to show any of it. Instead, she chuckled, shaking her head.

“Am I truly that awful that ye dinnae even wish tae touch me?” she asked, trying to keep her tone lighthearted, but some of that ache seeped through the cracks, making her question sound a lot more honest than she had planned. “Dae ye fear ye will be tainted by me mere touch?”

Alaric laughed, the sound a little strained. “I dinnae think ye’re tainted, so I dinnae think ye can taint me. But simply because ye’ve lied an’ told everyone we are husband an’ wife, it doesnae make it true, an’ I have more sense than tae act like ye’re truly me wife.”

That, too, hurt more than Lucia thought it would. Why should she care if Alaric wanted to be near her or not? After all, he was right; they weren’t truly husband and wife, and Lucia had no right to be upset about any of this. If anything, it was an illogical response, she told herself, something that made no sense to her at all.

Still, she couldn’t stop herself from standing without another word and stomping all the way to the nearby creek. She didn’t want to look at Alaric, not when he had angered her so terribly and Lucia couldn’t even figure out the real reason behind it.

Am I losin’ me mind? Did they hit me too hard last night?

What other explanation was there for the strange way in which she was behaving?

“Where did ye put the letters?”

Lucia froze. She was crouching by the creek, her hand outstretched as she was ready to cup some water and wash her face when she heard Callum’s voice. She was certain it was him; by then, she had learned the sound of his voice, as well as the sound of the one that followed, which belonged to Douglas, his right-hand man.

“In yer saddle bags,” said Douglas. Both their voices were quiet, almost covered by the sound of the rushing water, but Lucia was close enough to hear their words clearly, even if she had to strain a little. “Dinnae fash. They’re safe. Ye ken the men dinnae go near yer horse.”

That was true, Lucia knew. Callum’s and Douglas’ horses were kept separate from the rest, and there were only a few select men who were allowed near them. Could it be that those letters could have something useful in them? If Callum was worried, they would be seen by prying eyes, then surely, they had confidential information he didn’t want to share with others.

Slowly, Lucia crept closer and closer to the two men. Though she couldn’t see them from where she stood, still crouched down to remain hidden, she could hear them, and that was enough.

“Fine,” said Callum after a few moments of hesitation. “As long as nae one gets their hands on them.”

Now Lucia was certain that whatever was in those letters, it would be useful to her. Perhaps they would help her learn more about Callum and his operations. Maybe they would even give her what she truly wanted—the chance to finally have her revenge.

She had to get to those horses. That very same night, she decided, she and Alaric would go there and steal those letters.

First, though, she had to get him to agree.

“Ye’re insane.”

Lucia didn’t appreciate Alaric’s tone or the fact that he was so quick to reject her plan. She rolled her eyes at him and grabbed his arm, giving it a gentle shake.

“Ye have barely heard what I have tae say.”

“I’ve heard enough,” said Alaric. “Ye have nae plan. All we’re suggestin’ is that we go an’ steal the letters. What if we are seen? What if Callum looks fer them an’ realizes they’re nae there?”

“We’ll return them once we’ve read them,” said Lucia. That was the best she could offer him. Even she didn’t know if Callum would look for them before they could or if they were even legible. What if they were written in a code they had to decipher? What if Callum decided to get them in the middle of the night?

Like all plans in enemy territory, it had its risks, but Lucia wasn’t going to give up. She had run worse risks before and this didn’t faze her at all.

“So, what dae ye suggest, then?” she demanded. “Should we simply sit here an’ wait fer Callum tae surrender himself tae us?”

Alaric glared at her, but he had no response. He knew they had to do something to keep the plan in motion, and no matter how much he didn’t like the idea of stealing those letters, he also knew there was little else they could do. For now, it was their best bet and they had to take their chance.

“Fine,” said Alaric through gritted teeth, as if to make it abundantly clear that he did not like this at all. “But if we get caught, it will be yer fault.”

“How will it be me fault?” Lucia demanded. “I’m the one who is takin’ action.”

“That is precisely why it will be yer fault!”

Throwing her hands up in the air in exasperation, Lucia left Alaric to busy herself with whatever task needed doing—in this case, watering the horses. It was true that never before in her life had she met anyone like him; no one had been as stubborn, as maddening, as absolutely infuriating as he was!