The Offering (The Pledge 3)

It was almost too silent to be called a village, with none of the bustle or activity I would have expected.

“Where is everyone?”

“Most families were forced to leave after the militia came through looking for recruits. No way to support themselves. The few fishermen we have left—those too old or too young to fight—are probably still out trying to fill their nets. Sometimes they don’t come home for days.”

The VAN’s headlamps barely penetrated the dense mist that grew heavier, clinging to everything like the salt from the sea. As we approached, the few villagers who remained came out from their homes to get a look at our unusual vehicle. They followed us through the narrow streets until we stopped in front of the home Deirdre pointed out to us. I understood the curious expressions on the villagers’ faces. It was the same mixture of fascination and awe I’d felt when Caspar had first showed the VAN to us. The vehicle was rare and impressive and atrocious, all at once.

“Come inside,” Deirdre told us. “Let me repay your kindness. I don’t have much, but we do have fish and a warm fire.” She smiled, ushering her children through the doorway. “Glen,” she said to one of the older boys with sparkling moss-colored eyes, “start a fire for our guests.”

Eden didn’t bother arguing this time, and I didn’t bother listing the reasons we should accept their hospitality, particularly since I was neither hungry nor cold. My reasons for wanting to stay had more to do with the roiling in my stomach that seemed to grow stronger the closer we drew to the border. To Elena.

To my fate.

sage Sage dragged Xander from his mount and smacked the animal on its hindquarters, sending it loping toward the hills, in the same direction her horse had just gone. She doubted they’d ever see the beasts again. But for now all that mattered was that there was no chance the horses could draw unwanted attention to where she and Xander were hiding.

She crouched low in the bushes, helping Xander settle back against a boulder. When he winced, a soft groan escaping his lips, she dropped so her face was level with his. “You have to be quiet now,” she coaxed. “No sound. Do you understand?”

Xander’s skin was an unhealthy pallor, pasty and gray, and slick with sweat. His eyes were glazed with fever, but he nodded nonetheless. He understood.

“Good. Now let me take a look at that.” She needed a distraction, something to preoccupy her restless thoughts, and Xander’s wounds were as good a diversion as any. She didn’t want to spend too much time thinking about the other thing, the reason they’d just had to cut their horses loose. Or what their next step would be if they somehow managed to get through this unnoticed.

She reached for his bandage and unwrapped layer after layer of the dirty gauze that she’d already replaced once. She tried not to breathe the foul odor that made her eyes water and her nose burn. The fact that the dressing was soaked through with infection and had to be peeled from the rotting wound was a bad sign.

The fever was a worse one.

Yet, even one-handed and febrile, Xander had managed to ride his horse once they’d discarded their vehicle to cross into Ludania. She’d hardly heard a complaint from him, except for the occasional moan or involuntary whimper.

No wonder Elena had been so afraid to release him.

Xander had the heart of a champion. And he had no intention of letting Elena stop him.

“Where are they?” He grimaced, and she wondered if he was talking only to take his mind off the antiseptic she poured over his wound. The shoddy row of uneven sutures where the prison doctor had attempted to stitch him up was raw and inflamed, and still oozing.

Her eyes shot up to his, wide and filled with concern for his welfare. She would had asked if it hurt, or if her ministrations were too clumsy, but she knew his answers. He’d lie even if the answers were yes. “When I was at the top of the hill, I could see them approaching.” Her expression was grave as she repeated what she’d seen. “There were thousands of them. I’d say the first wave of troops to cross. But there are probably thousands more behind them, spreading into your country like a plague. I imagine they’re crossing at every point—from east to west, and will move north, burning everything in their path.” She glanced back down at his arm, going back to work on it. She began wrapping the fresh strip of gauze around the stump where his hand used to be.

“And what about us?”

She stopped. “We’re not far ahead of them, Xander. We have less than an hour till the entire battalion could be upon us. Our best hope is that they don’t come this far into the hills. That they stay on flatter ground and continue marching north. There’s not much up here, and as long as they don’t suspect we’re here . . .” She trailed off.

“There’s no reason they would,” he finished, and she nodded, putting the finishing touches on his dressing. “There,” she said, and sat back on her heels.

He watched her for several long moments. His glassy eyes were anything but fatigued. Finally he asked what was really on his mind. “Can you tell where she is now?”

Sage understood the question well enough. He was asking her to use her ability, something she’d been doing since they’d crossed into Ludania.

He was asking her to use her tracking skills.

She closed her eyes, concentrating . . .

Concentrating . . .

Trying to pull an image of the Queen of Ludania from her mind, to find her—and only her—in a country filled with millions of people.