Chapter 50

Inever thought I'd feel this much happiness at seeing Ursha. Against the dim light, her red eyes glimmer with hatred. A shiver runs down my spine. I would never want to have her as an enemy.

And neither did Zog. His shoulders press together and he takes a second to react.

Wow, Zog really thought he stood a chance.

Ursha barrels into the chamber, her crimson hair whipping around her, her teeth bared. I jump out of the way as she tackles Zog. They drop and the room shudders.

Ursha's fist connects with his jaw—a crack echoing off the log walls—and she raises her ax. I brace for Zog's head rolling, the blood, and the violence. Her bellow turns my blood to ice.

The ax lands right next to Zog's head. He cries out, his body going stiff. Ursha leans forward, her eyes burning.

"Thorn needs to hear your lies from those snake lips," Ursha spits. She gets up and lands a kick on Zog's chest. He gasps, clawing at her leather-clad leg, but she's an immovable force. She grabs the ax and Zog freezes. "You betrayed the king, Zog. And you betrayed Thistle."

"Ursha, I thought—" Zog wheezes, blood dribbling down his chin. "Out of everyone, you should understand! This is for Thistle! You want revenge as much as me!"

"No! Thistle died defending her own. She died an honorable death, and she lived a happy life. She loved, and she was loved. The only thing I want," and she kicks him again, "is for her child to grow up to be an honorable orc like his parents."

"Thistle would have wanted?—"

"You," a kick, "don't," another, "know Thistle!" She glares down at him. "Unity, Zog. Thistle died for that dream, not for this—this treachery." She takes a deep breath, then looks up at me. I almost jump. "Find something to tie him with." As soon as that's done, she goes for the door. "We're leaving."

War cries ring through the wooden walls. My pulse quickens. This is real. This is really happening. Something crashes outside. Someone screams way too close.

We rush down the hallways, Eirik cradled against my chest. I'm glad to recognize the way. Ursha's taking us to the trapdoor in the classroom. We can escape.

"You really loved Thistle," I find myself saying. My blood whooshes in my ears, but I can't help but think of how much this must have hurt Ursha. To be the best warrior and still be unable to save her best friend. "I'm sorry, Ursha."

Ursha's shoulders stiffen for a second, then she relaxes. "I failed her then. I won't fail her now." She glances at me over her shoulder. "This child must live."

Her large hoop earrings glint when we pass a torch and turn into the classroom. Ursha makes a beeline to the back of the room. She drops to her knees. With one hand, she grips her ax. With the other, she pulls the trapdoor open.