“Look.” She lifted his arm and felt a well of pride at how beautifully the stitching had held. “We need to cut the stitches out before the skin grows over them.”
“That's . . . incredible.” He lifted his arm up, flexed his hand. “It felt healed to me, but the stitches are almost the only way to tell where the cut was.”
He unwrapped the other bandages, and she caught them as they began to float away.
When she looked up, he was staring at her, suspicion lurking in his expression.
“How is this possible?” He showed her his arms, then rose up out of the water, bringing her with him by hooking his hands under her armpits. Then he stepped back to look at the cuts in his side.
She turned and lunged for another bandage as the river caught it, and then briefly fought him when he held her back from going after it.
“Answer the question, Ava.”
She couldn't keep from watching the strip of fabric ripple in the water and then disappear below the surface. She had had so much taken away, she needed every scrap she could find, even if it was bloody bandages made from old sheets.
Realizing how mad that made her sound, she finally straightened and looked up at Luc. It was drummed into her, over and over. Never confess what you can do, or you'll never be safe. It hadn’t mattered. Herron had known—somehow, he'd known. He'd hinted her father had told him, but she would never believe that.
Perhaps Herron had set spies to eavesdrop on her parents. That made sense to her.
But now she had to refuse to answer, or reveal herself, and she didn't know what to do.
With a cry of exasperation, she spun away from him, jumping onto the bank to pull on her clothes.
When she turned back, he stood in the same place, waist deep in water, so beautiful, each muscle was defined.
She stared at him for a long moment, noting the long-faded scars on his chest and arms.
“I—”
The baying of dogs cut her off, and with a gasp, she angled south, shielding her eyes against the sun to try and see what was coming.
Luc gave a vicious curse, hauling himself up onto the bank to pull on his pants and wrap his cloak around him. He had gotten rid of the too-small boots long ago.
“You go east,” Ava said to him. “I can confuse the dogs.”
“I'm not leaving you.” He flicked an astonished look at her as he buckled the scabbard he’d taken from Garmand around his waist, slid out the sword. “They're close.” He sounded calm.
He turned slowly, taking in the wood behind them, the open field in front. “You hide there.” He pointed to a thicket of bushes a little way down the stream.
Ava could hear the thunder of hooves already. Any moment now, the horses and riders would appear from the valley below.
“Now, Ava. Go. Before they see you.”
She let out a small scream of frustration. “If they capture you again—”
“It's the best plan we have, but that's if you listen to me.” He shoved her into the river and she fell with a splash, spluttered, and then dived under, swimming to the small stand of brush where he wanted her to hide.
When she surfaced and pulled herself, dripping, amongst the gnarled, entwined trunks, he was gone.
She set to work immediately. She still had all the bandages but one, and there was a long strand of thread she'd seen on one of the raw edges. She tugged it loose, threaded her needle, and then centered herself.
Thought of the dogs.
They would be punished if they steered the general wrong again, so while she wanted them to run away, she didn't want them running home.
They would be hunted if they formed a roaming pack, and that wasn't fair to them, anyway. They were used to people.
So she thought of them running through the forest, past Luc, to wait for her on the other side.
She could take them with her to Grimwalt, find a home for them there.
She made the few stitches, a stylized tree, a dog. She used three of the bandages, her hands shaking in her effort to be quick and still have a usable working. Then she slid back into the water, threw the bandages onto the far bank, and then swam back to her hiding place.
The dogs didn't sound as vicious, as loud, this time, and she guessed they still wanted to go east, had been forced to change route.
She heard the sound of them running and panting, and then the call as they found the bandages.
“There he is!”
The voice that called out made her hunch down a little more.
Juni.
How had he spotted Luc?
Unless . . . she had to fight the fear that washed over her.
He had shown himself. To draw them into the forest. Away from her.
She closed her eyes, listening to the dogs as they milled around the bandages.
“What the—?”
The dogs started running, this time without a sound.
She heard them splash through the river, into the forest.
“They've caught his scent, looks like.” The man who spoke sounded pleased.
“So it appears.”
If Juni's voice had sent a shiver through her, the sound of the general himself was enough to make her hold her breath, so she didn't make a single sound.
The only way to win this was not to get caught.
Chapter 8
Luc pressed back against the rough bark and waited, sword raised, for the hounds to find him.
They had stopped barking, but he could hear their panting breath and the sound of their feet running through dried leaves, coming toward him. Then suddenly, they were running past, more like a coordinated pack than the usual haphazard mix of dogs from a hunting kennel.
They were focused and silent, and none of them—not one—so much as looked his way as they loped into the dark green gloom of the forest and disappeared.
“He can't have run so far already.” The man who spoke was close, close enough that Luc shrugged off the dogs' strange behavior, and prepared for combat.
“He must have. Did you see them go? They had the scent.”
“They haven't steered us right yet. Why would they start now?” the soldier muttered under his breath, and walked past Luc, eyes on the ground, looking for tracks.
He must have caught sight of Luc from the corner of his eye because he stumbled to a stop, turned, mouth agape, and then gave a shout.
With a roar, Luc swung at him, cutting him down, then turned, blood arcing from his blade as he brought it round to take on the next one, and then stopped dead.
Staggered back.
He looked down, found the arrow sticking out of his bare chest.
And collapsed.
“Don't kill him.” The general's call came from behind the men that were suddenly crowded around him. “We need to find out where Ava's gone first.”
Luc closed his eyes and pretended to slip into unconsciousness.
It was a trick they all learned in the Chosen camps.
Sometimes, there was no winning. The best you could do was pretend to be at the end of your endurance, and sometimes you got a reprieve.
Nothing good would come of being questioned about Ava's whereabouts.
He wasn't going to tell them, and they weren't going to stop.
Better to buy a little time.
Hands grabbed him, lifted him, and he kept limp and silent. He thought he'd feel worse, but it wasn't that bad.