The Heart of Betrayal (The Remnant Chronicles 2)

I gasped and rushed over to her. “Yvet, what happened?” I reached for her hand, but she fiercely clutched it to her belly to hide it from me.

“Tell me, Yvet,” I said more gently, thinking I had startled her. “How did you hurt yourself?”

“She won’t tell you,” Aster said. “She’s ’shamed. The quarterlord took it.”

I turned to Aster, my face prickling with heat. “What do you mean? Took it?”

“A fingertip for stealing. A whole hand if it happens again.”

“It was my fault,” Zekiah added, looking down at his feet. “She knew I’d been aching fierce for a taste of that marbly cheese.”

I remembered the angry swelling stump of Zekiah’s forefinger the first time I met him.

For stealing cheese?

Rage descended, so utter and complete that every part of me shook—my hands, my lips, my legs. My body was no longer my own. “Where?” I demanded. “Where is this quarterlord?” Aster told me he was the metalsmith at the entrance to the jehendra, then clapped her hand over her mouth. She pulled on my belt, trying to stop me as I stormed away, begging me not to go. I shook her loose. “Stay here!” I yelled. “All of you! Stay here!”

I knew exactly where the shop was. Seeing me fly into a rage, several of the women from the washing grounds followed after me, echoing Aster’s words, don’t go.

I found him standing in the center of his stall, polishing a tankard.

“You!” I said, pointing my finger in his face, forcing him to look at me. “If you ever so much as touch any child again, I will personally cut every limb from your worthless body and roll your ugly stump down the middle of the street. Do you understand?”

He looked at me, incredulous, and laughed. “I’m the quarterlord.” The back of his meaty hand shot up, and though I deflected it with my arm, the force of his blow still sent me sprawling. I fell against a table, tumbling the contents to the ground. Pain exploded through my head where it hit the table, but my blood raced so hot, I was on my feet in seconds, this time with Natiya’s knife in my hand.

There was a hush, and the crowd who’d gathered around stepped back. In an instant, the quarrel they had expected to see transformed into something deadly. Natiya’s knife was too light and small to throw, but it could certainly cut and maim.

“You call yourself a lord?” I sneered. “You’re nothing but a repulsive coward! Go ahead! Hit me again! But in the same moment, I’ll be slashing your nose from your miserable excuse of a face.”

He eyed the knife, afraid to move, but then I saw his eyes dart nervously to the side. Among his wares, on a table equidistant between us, was a short sword. We both lunged for it, but I got to it first, whirling as I snatched it, and the air rang with its sharp edge. He stepped back, his eyes wide.

“Which arm first, quarterlord?” I asked. “Left or right?”

He took another step back but was trapped by a table.

I swung the sword near his belly. “Not so funny anymore, is it?”

There was a murmur from the crowd, and the quarterlord’s eyes shifted to something behind me. I turned, but it was too late. A hand clamped down on my wrist and twisted my other arm behind my back. It was the Komizar. He yanked the sword from my hand, threw it toward the quarterlord, and painfully squeezed the knife from my grip. It fell to the ground beside us. I saw him noting the carved handle that was distinctively vagabond. “Who gave this to you?”

I understood Dihara’s fear now. I saw the fury in the Komizar’s eyes, not just toward me but toward whoever had given it to me. I couldn’t tell him that Natiya had hidden it in my cloak. “I stole it,” I told him. “What is it to you? Will you cut my fingers off now?”

His nostrils flared, and he shoved me into the arms of the guards. “Take her back to the horses and wait for me.”

I heard him yell to the crowd to go back to their business as the guards dragged me away.

He rejoined us only minutes later. His rage was strangely tempered, making me wary.

“Where’d you learn to use a sword?” he asked.

“I hardly used it. I waved it a few times, and your quarterlord wet himself. He’s a bumbling coward who’s only brave enough to cut off children’s fingers.”

He glared at me, still waiting for an answer. “My brothers,” I said.

“Your quarters will be searched when we return to see if there’s anything else you’ve stolen.”

“There was only the knife.”

“For your own sake, I hope you’re telling the truth.”