Passion Play (River of Souls 1)

“Then why did Petr Zhalina send his lackey after you?”

Therez blinked, but his expression didn’t change.

“Do you have anything else to say, girl?”

“No,” she whispered.

She kept her face under control as she walked back to the campfire. The cook offered her a mug of coffee. She accepted it without thinking and carried it to the fire, where she crouched, her bag shoved between her feet.

I have to get away.

But how? The caravan had left Mundlau nearly a week ago. Between here and there lay only wilderness, and the nights had turned raw. She would surely starve or freeze. If she did nothing, however, Brandt would send her back to Melnek, where her father would starve and freeze her soul.

Therez drained the mug. She returned the mug to the cook’s boy and demanded bread and cheese. “Stew’s ready inside of an hour,” he told her.

“I can’t wait that long.”

The boy hesitated. Something in Therez’s expression must have decided him, because he looked around furtively. Ulf was occupied. The other two boys were away, fetching water. The boy quickly hacked off some bread and a thick square of cheese. “Don’t tell anyone,” he muttered.

Therez nodded. She packed away the bread and cheese, then slung the bag onto her shoulders. Go now, she thought. Everyone is too busy to notice one girl. If I walk fast, I can make at least a mile before nightfall.

She had just passed the sentries, when one called out to her. Therez walked faster. She heard footsteps hurrying after her. Panicking, she broke into a run, but her pursuer overtook her and grabbed her braid.

Therez hit the ground with a thump. Her vision sparkled. When she could see again, she saw Alarik Brandt standing over her. His face was flushed, and his eyes were bright with anger. “You silly bitch. I told you to stay.”

“You have no right—”

He slapped her across the face and hauled her to her feet. “Rope,” he called out. “Tie this bitch to her wagon. And search her for money. She was thieving from us.”

He shoved Therez into the arms of the closest man. Therez kicked, but the man twisted her arms behind her back and wrestled her to the ground. “That’s better, sweetheart. Now for the money.” He called over one of the horse boys. “Look in her bag,” he told the boy.

The boy tossed out her belongings piece by piece. “Nothing here.”

“Then we look a bit closer.” The man thrust his hand underneath her shirt and discovered Therez’s bag of silver coins. “Huh. Alarik was right.”

“That’s mine,” Therez said.

“Where’d you get it?”

“Home.”

“Thought your parents died. Thought you had to work for your bread.” He spat on the ground. “Let’s make sure we’ve got everything,” he said to the boy.

They pulled her boots off, which uncovered the knife and the rest of her coins. Still not satisfied, the man pulled up her skirts while the boy felt around for more contraband. At the urging of their audience, he felt underneath Therez’s shirt again, grinning at her fury. She ought to have fainted from the humiliation, except she was too angry.

“Nothing else, I guess,” he said, withdrawing his hand.

Brandt returned in time to observe the end of their search. He took the knife and money and counted through the silver and copper denier. “Good enough,” he said. “I’ll keep these to pay for my trouble.”

“Thief,” Therez said.

Bending down, Brandt smacked her face twice. “You are the fucking damned thief,” he said, each word like another slap against her face. “You stole from my passengers, you little whore. I plan to report you in the next town.”

He spoke loud enough for everyone in camp to hear. Before Therez could argue back, he gave her another, harder smack that made her head ring. “Tie her to the wagon,” he said to the crew. “If she behaves, she gets supper and a blanket.”

They bound her wrists and tied her securely to an axle. Therez slumped against the wheel. Tears leaked from her eyes, stinging the cuts on her face. Her head still ached from Brandt’s slaps and her lips bled freely.

My father will lock me away. Tie me up with silk and ribbons. Lecture me with whispers. Then he’ll barter me off in marriage.