But the Corack rebels were a significant worry. These common citizens resented the Dominion, and were tired of waiting for the Banished to organize again. In seven years of the Corack rebellion's existence, the Dominion had failed to wipe out their numbers. The Coracks were ripping apart our country from within. I couldn't help but wonder if they had similar plans for me.
"Kestra, it's time to run!" Darrow hissed.
A flash of terror sliced through my heart. Darrow had taught me what to do in circumstances like this--I knew he had, and yet all of that vanished from my mind. A part of me still felt like that weak girl from three years ago, the one who'd cowered in fear, waiting to be killed.
No, I knew what to do. Jump. Hide. Run and don't look back. That's what Darrow wanted.
"Go, Kestra. Now!" Darrow's urgent tone forced me into motion.
I leapt to the ground, attempting to roll with the fall. My shoulder slammed hard against the dirt, and my knee skidded into a rock. But I hurried to my feet, stayed low, and bolted for the side of the road. It was a short run to the nearest stand of trees, but I could make it.
Almost immediately, a voice shouted out for Darrow to stop, which he did. Celia had closed the carriage door, but I pictured her huddled into a corner of one seat, frozen with fear. Darrow held his hands in the air.
He said, "We haven't got much money, but you're welcome to it."
A voice called back, "We don't want money tonight. Coracks only steal what we need." A beat passed. "Or who we want."
Run.
The word screamed into my brain, somehow becoming louder than the pounding of my heart, or the pulse in my ears. With a little cleverness, I could evade the rebels inside the thick woods just off the road. But what would happen to Darrow and Celia after I ran? I'd heard plenty about Corack brutality, of their willingness to kill. Could I abandon my servants if I was the intended target?
I lifted my skirt enough to withdraw the knife, then stayed low while I crept to a better vantage
point. In the moonlight, eight horses were visible, though some of their riders were standing on the road with disk bows in their hands. Theirs were larger than those of the Dominion, designed to fire horizontally, unlike our vertical bows. Moreover, their disks slid automatically from a pocket directly onto the string, which explained how relatively few rebels had launched such a comprehensive attack.
"Everyone inside the carriage, come out!" I couldn't see the man who was shouting, except to note that he was still astride his horse in the center of the road.
Celia didn't have to obey. If she sealed the window and bolted the door, they'd have a hard time getting her out.
But the carriage door opened anyway, and Celia emerged with her hands raised. "Please don't hurt me. I'm alone now."
Now? I could have groaned out loud. Celia had served me well, but not always with the full function of her brain.
A girl in riding crops and a fitted tunic dismounted and grabbed Celia, pulling her forward and forcing her to her knees directly in front of the oropods. Under my breath, I swore again. They didn't know her scent. If she was too close, they might try to bite her.
They didn't know the scent of the Coracks either. If I could release them from their harnesses, how much damage could they do? But what about Celia?
A second rebel made a quick search of the carriage, commenting on the value its metal frame would offer the Coracks if they kept it. A third opened my trunk and tossed out the clothes packed inside. Because that would've been a brilliant place to hide someone, apparently--smothered in a sealed iron trunk between layers of clothes.
"She must have jumped out," the man on the horse shouted. "Everyone, start searching!" He raised his voice further. "For your own sake, Kestra Dallisor, surrender!"
They knew my name? I'd spent the past three years wondering if my father remembered it, but the rebels clearly did. Why me? There were other Dallisor families they might have targeted, other daughters who surely had more value to the Dominion. My life could not possibly matter to a Corack.
Another reason to worry.
As the rebels spread out to search, I tucked myself between two beech trees, hoping their thick branches would shield me from the moonlight. The knife was firm in my grip, ready. Willing.
Two Coracks passed by me, so close that I caught a whiff of their rebel stink. One was a man about Darrow's age with unnaturally white hair and, in his right hand, a lever blade longer than my arm. These weapons were illegal for all but Dominion soldiers. Its bearer would stab the victim, then click a lever to spread apart two halves of the blade. I couldn't imagine the pain it caused before death.
Following distantly behind him was the second man, a little younger, but much shorter and with half the build. He moved with halting steps, every crack of a twig beneath his feet requiring a pause to catch his breath. He was my target.
As soon as he passed me, I stepped out from the trees and grabbed one arm, then held the knife against his shoulder, pressing downward.
"Let us go!" I shouted. "Or I will kill your man!"
"There you are, my lady." The man speaking for the Coracks dipped his head at me. "I believe your problem is that you have only one of my people to kill, and I have two of yours. Do the math."
Darrow had a bow hidden near his feet with a black disk already loaded against the string. He used the distraction to slowly reach for it, but before he could straighten up, a rebel's silver disk sliced Darrow deep across his gut. He crumpled and fell to the ground, blood spilling from his wound.