Trina returned Kestra's glare and sat beside Tenger, directly across from me. She gave me a wink but I pretended not to see it. Trina was nearly impossible to figure out. Her emotions could shift within a single breath, and I'd seen her lash out in violence over the smallest of issues. It was easier to avoid her. Most Coracks did.
After a careful appraisal of Kestra, Trina said, "Let's be clear about one thing. I'm not your servant and I have no loyalty to you. Unless we're in public, I will not do anything for you, not for any reason. My orders are to find the Olden Blade, or to kill you if you try to betray us."
Kestra rolled her eyes, making sure Trina saw it. "That was five things, not one. If you can't count any better than that, it doesn't seem I have much to worry about."
Trina's face reddened, but Tenger put out an arm to keep her in her seat. Then his attention shifted to me. "You will go as her guard. Act as her protector through this."
"What? No!"
I'd rather have been ordered to jump from a cliff. Coracks were forbidden from contradicting Tenger's orders in front of the enemy, but hadn't he also taught that our missions must be carried out with pure emotional detachment? I wouldn't dare attach the Coracks' fate to a girl I so passionately loathed.
Before Tenger could speak, in a humbler tone I added, "Pell was assigned to Woodcourt, not me."
Tenger spoke between clenched teeth. "Pell would have gone, if Kestra had not left a stab wound in his shoulder. You're the only other Corack who knows the layout of her home. It must be you."
No, it must be anyone else. I shook my head. "I'm too young to be a guard. And what if I'm recognized?"
Tenger shrugged that off. "Kestra will make sure you're not."
"Sir, you don't understand." I licked my lips, trying not to say anything more than was necessary, especially since she could hear every word. "I don't want to guard her."
"That's irrelevant." Tenger's tone sharpened. "You will carry out my orders."
In frustration, I dug a fist into my thigh, the most I dared do in front of the captain. This order could prove to be a grave mistake. Why couldn't he see that?
"Then we all have our jobs." Tenger gave Kestra's knee a final twist. "I'll see you in four days, my lady. Don't let me down."
She glared a warning back at him, with flushed cheeks and a determined set of her jaw. I could almost read her thoughts.
She had no intention of disappointing Tenger. No, she would do worse than that.
In four days, Kestra intended to destroy the rebellion. Tenger may have finally picked the one target that would hand him a fatal loss.
Tenger had forced my agreement to get the Olden Blade, but that agreement came with consequences he might not have anticipated.
He left me with his final threat, after kissing my hand, a mockery that nearly made me sick, and then departed the carriage. I suspected he didn't want his rebels out in the open any longer than necessary. They were rodents, and by morning they'd all have to scurry back into their holes.
Once the carriage door was shut, Simon took the seat where Tenger had been, allowing him to face me directly. A leather satchel hung crossways over his shoulder. It was tightly fastened and knotted at the top, sparking my curiosity about its contents. A sword was sheathed at his side with a handle tightly wrapped in worn fabric, perhaps for the comfort of his hand. Most people considered swords outdated, which made the fact that he openly carried one interesting. The knife in his hands was simpler, a hand-forged blade with a worn wooden handle. I wondered where my knife had gone, which scum rebel was holding it. I briefly considered asking Simon how he'd survived the dungeons, then decided it was pointless. Whatever friendship we used to have belonged to the past. We were enemies now.
There was something about his eyes though that grasped my attention and wouldn't let go. They had an intensity that he seemed to wield like a weapon, cutting, or bruising, or boring into me. What I didn't understand was why they made me uncomfortable, as if I were the criminal here, not him. I had no doubt that he believed his fight was just.
Which made him all the more dangerous.
His eyes were on fire now, communicating his anger at being assigned as my protector or whatever fraudulent title he'd been given. Did he really expect me to ever ask him for help, or to depend on him for protection, pretending I didn't know his real purpose? Did he think I'd care that this attack was inconvenient for him?
He said, "A lot of lives depend on you, Princess, including your own. If anything goes wrong at your father's home, our orders are to kill you immediately. And if all three of us do not return in four days, then your servants will die."
He could fill his voice with weight and authority, as though this had been the plan all along, but we both knew the truth. Simon had never expected to be in this carriage and he was making things up as he went along.
Of course, so was I.
By now, my heart was in knots and my mind was spinning, but I couldn't let them see that. Cocking my head, as if I'd been in this situation a thousand times, I said, "I've already promised to return."
And when I did, all the rebels would die, not Celia or Darrow--or me.
"You'll find the Olden Blade," Trina put in.
"Did you just figure that out?" As often as possible, I intended to remind her that I had more respect for a common stinkbug than for her. "Let's get this over with."