All four of them had been overly solicitous as the bruise on my cheek swelled, turned red, and faded to a mere smudge of greenish black. I reminded myself that they hadn’t struck me. No need to hate them.

“I’m not that easy to scare,” I said. “What happened with the drunks?”

“He clapped all three of their heads together, knocking them out. Thus, no fight,” Quain said.

“Thus? Now look who’s flinging the fancy words around,” Loren said.

“Thus is not fancy,” Quain shot back.

Flea sighed elaborately. “Here we go…again.” He picked up his two rocks and practiced juggling them despite his claims of giving up the other night.

I had made sure my bedroll was close to Flea’s. While Quain and Loren launched into a debate about the fanciness of certain words, I asked Flea about his name.

Keeping his gaze on the stones, he pointed his chin over to the others. “They, ah, gave me the name. Seems it was nicer than being called a parasite.”

“What’s your given name?” I asked.

“I don’t have one. At least, not one I remember.” Flea missed a stone and muttered a curse. “I grew up on the streets, thieving to survive. I’ve been called boy, thief and other uncomplimentary words.” A flash of his lopsided smile. “How’s that for a fancy word? Uncomplimentary.”

“I’m suitably impressed,” I said.

He managed to keep the rhythm of the throws consistent for a number of exchanges before the rocks collided in midair. Another curse and he started again.

“How did you get involved with this group?” I asked.

“About a year ago, they came to my town, asking questions about healers. They were discreet, but still word gets around and the local muscle didn’t like them or me for selling information to Kerrick. Stealing secrets was one of my most lucrative abilities.”

“It almost got you killed,” Belen said.

“That time. I had a whole network of informers and these guys showed up and just blew it apart.”

“Funny, I remember it differently.” Belen tossed another log on the fire.

“You would. Your life and livelihood weren’t at stake.” Flea scratched his temple with the edge of one of his stones. “When things grew too hot, I helped them slip out of town and…” He glanced at Belen with affection, but masked it before the big man could see. “I just stayed.”

“Ha. We rescued him from the stockade before they could hang him as a traitor. And then we stopped the idiot from going back.”

Which would explain Flea’s comment about kicking Belen’s shins because he wouldn’t let go.

“So who gave him his name?” I asked.

“Kerrick,” Belen answered.

Not who I’d expect. “Why ‘Flea’?”

A full-out grin spread across Flea’s face. “’Cause I’m fast and hard to catch.”

“Because he’s a pest and hard to squash,” Belen said.

“Because he jumps about three feet in the air when you scare him,” Loren added.

“Because he’s annoying and makes us itch with impatience,” Quain said.

“Thanks, guys. I love you, too.” Flea made exaggerated kissing noises and patted his ass.

They threw pieces of bread and pillows at him, laughing. I realized they had formed into a tight family. Guilt at what I’d planned welled, but it shattered the moment Kerrick entered.

I bided my time, keeping awake while Loren woke Quain for his shift and Quain roused Flea for his. After Quain’s breathing settled into a deep rhythm, I crept from my covers. With one mournful look at my knapsack, I tugged my cloak around my shoulders and tiptoed away from the fire. If anyone woke, I hoped the presence of my knapsack would make them assume I had just gone to the privy—which was a stinky side cavern I hated to use.

Flea sat on the top of a large boulder a few feet away from the cave’s entrance. As soon as he spotted me, he immediately slid down the side.

“What’s wrong?” he asked in a whisper.

“Nothing. I just needed some fresh air.”

“You shouldn’t be out here.”

“Is there anyone around?” It would be a surprise if there were. Since I’d been with Kerrick and his men, I’d seen no one at all, yet they still carried their weapons at the ready.

“Not close, but there’s a group of merchants—we hope—about two miles due east of here. See the fire?” He pointed.

I squinted into the darkness. We stood on a slight rise. A tiny pinprick of orange-yellow dotted the mound of trees.

“How do you know they’re merchants?”

“Wagons loaded with goods, horses and armed guards. They could be mercenaries, but they have too much…stuff. Mercenaries usually travel lighter.”

“How do you know all this?”

Flea grinned. “Kerrick’s already checked them out and determined they’re probably harmless. We have to be more careful now. I’m sure the rumors about your rescue and our involvement have spread faster than the plague. Twenty golds is a huge sum. There are a few mercenary groups who would love to take you from us.”

Curious, I couldn’t help asking, “Can they?”

“Not many,” he said with pride. “But don’t worry, Avry. We’re too smart to walk into an ambush.”

My heart squeezed with guilt and I hesitated.

“You better get inside. If Kerrick finds you out here, I’m a goner.”

“All right.” I turned to go, but stopped. “Flea, don’t move.”

He froze. “What?”

“Kissing Spider. Hold still.” I touched the back of his neck with my hand. I found the small area between the vertebrae and shot my healing power into his spine. He arched back in silent surprise before collapsing.

Catching him, I laid him down. I arranged his limbs so he would be comfortable. My stomach twisted as I pushed a lock of hair from his eyes. Healers had a few ways to defend themselves, but we hated to use them. And some, like the one I used on Flea, needed to hit the precise location or it wouldn’t work.

I considered his size. He’d wake in two, maybe three hours. However, Belen’s watch shift would start within an hour. I needed to go. Now.

Should I head toward the merchants and hope they’d protect me?

No. Basic survival—trust no one. I ran west.

I discovered within minutes that running full speed through the forest at night wasn’t my best idea. After I wiped the dirt from my face and hands and regained my feet, I slowed my pace. It would be hard to follow my trail in the dark so I hoped Kerrick would wait until dawn.

If I was lucky, I’d have a three-or four-hour head start and wouldn’t stumble into a Death Lily. If I wasn’t, I’d have one hour at most or become plant food. I focused all my energy and concentration on putting as much distance between me and Kerrick as possible.

My luck held for once. When the sun’s rays diluted the darkness, I was able to see better and I increased my pace until I smelled smoke. Skidding to a stop, I turned in a slow circle, seeking the direction of the fire. When I found it, I crouched and crept toward the source.

It wouldn’t be good if I accidentally ran into a band of mercenaries. Better to know where they were and how many than try to guess. My progress through the underbrush was far from utter silence. However, aside from a few rustles, I managed to get close enough to see into a clearing.

I counted ten sleeping bodies around the dying fire. No horses. But one guard slumped against a tree trunk with his mouth hanging open—also asleep. Would they set two guards? I searched the surrounding woods, seeking movement. Nothing.

Satisfied, I backed away and bumped into someone. I froze as the edge of a sword touched my neck.

“Gotcha.”

Chapter 5

“Turn around slow,” the sword’s owner ordered me.

I obeyed. Perhaps he didn’t know who I was. Yeah, right. And perhaps this was all a dream and I would wake up in my house, surrounded by my family.

By the exultant smirk and greedy glint in his dark brown eyes, I had only the possibility that they wouldn’t kill me outright.