Izra looped the rope over my wrists and wound the ends together in a firm knot. When she dropped my hands, she fiddled with the cloth I had given her, brow furrowing. 

"You'll trip if I blindfold you here. I'll take you halfway first. That should still leave enough time to keep you from knowing where we are."

I studied her eyes, but she refused to look at me. "Thank you."

She shrugged. "Don't want you slowing me down." Then Izra swiveled on her heel and started off through the woods, darting between trees. 

My boots clomped the ground and hands strained against the rope to maintain my balance as I jogged after her. Against my will, my mind catalogued my surroundings. A rugged black boulder shot up from the ground on the left, and then lavender wildflowers dappled an open patch of grass to the right. Would those pieces of information help the Royal Guard? I would not give them willingly, but if he realized I no longer served him, they could torture me... break me. 

And more heads would roll from stumps.

"Izra."

She whirled back toward me, eyes scanning left and right before meeting mine. "What?"

"The ground is smoother now. Blindfold me."

Her eyebrows ticked together for a bare second, and then she nodded and strutted toward me. The coarse fabric scratched the skin of my forehead and temple as she drew it over my head. When she doubled the fabric over and knotted it at the back, black overtook the world.

The rope tensed, tugging me into motion.

At first, dead grass crunched beneath my feet. After a few minutes, my boots thumped packed dirt and sent small rocks skittering. One larger stone loosened as I stepped on it. I jerked to the side to maintain my balance, rope cutting into my wrists. The tension on the rope released for a moment before pulling taut once more.

When crashing waves sprayed the rocky shoreline in the distance, the footsteps in front of me fell silent and the rope slackened. I swayed back to my heels and waited. A knob turned, and a door opened. Then Izra's voice carried to me softly.

"We'll pass through the room where everyone will be eating dinner, and the reaction will be hostile. You... you will have to follow my commands without question. And even then, I might not be able to protect you."

"I will, and I don't expect your protection."

A quick huff of laughter, difficult to interpret without the benefit of sight. Then the rope pulled me forward once more.

When the gentle breeze disappeared, voices hummed below my feet. To my surprise, something cushioned my step, and my boots slipped a little with each step. Sand? But the crashing waves remained barely audible. Sawdust or silt?

"We are going down a stairwell," said Izra.

Then another door creaked open, and cheerful sounds bubbled up toward us. Silverware clinked against dishes and voices murmured. Izra's hands closed over my forearm, guiding me down the stairwell one step at a time. At the bottom, smells and sounds washed over me — tangy body odor, sour food, subdued conversation, slurping mouths, and scuffing feet.

Then the voices cut off, mugs thunked tables, and a single piece of silverware clattered to the ground. One hushed word spread across the room.

"Izra!"

Izra took one more step forward, pulling me with her. "I've brought a prisoner."

Chair legs clunked against the ground as someone ripped a wild snort of fury. "You brought a fucking wild boar back to our base? Alive?"

Izra inhaled deeply and puffed it out in a sigh. "Denavin, she might be able to help us."

"So you are really going to trust her again?"

Murmured agreements passed over the room, though no more chairs moved. Izra's feet shifted slightly toward me, and her voice grew hard and cold.

"Kneel."

Though I promised to obey without question, the cold command sank a hook into my gut. The Goddess blesses those who obey without question. But serving the King blindly had brought me nothing but pain. Would serving Izra be any better?

I instinctively blinked to clear my vision, desperate to see if her face matched her voice, but the blindfold blacked out even her silhouette. Biting back my pride, I lowered down to my knees one at a time. With my tied hands impeding my balance, the second kneecap smacked the ground hard enough to sting.

The sting felt good.

Izra addressed the room again. "No, I don't trust her. She is here as a prisoner and will be treated as such. She will stay in the cell, we will share nothing with her, and any information she gives us will be held in high suspicion."

Denavin huffed a laugh halfway to a snarl. "She doesn't look like a prisoner to me."

"Denavin, she's bound and on her knees. What more do you want?"

"I want to see her crawl."

Another reaction passed over the crowd, this one harder to interpret. Some voices sounded approving, but others tittered with unease, and I heard a few swallows. The woman whose reaction I craved remained silent at my side.

Perhaps this was my opportunity to prove my loyalty. I would once have crawled at the command of the King, and this cause clearly merited my loyalty much more. So what was this deep ache in my chest? Why had I expected this to be different?

How had I believed I could be more than a puppet?

Slowly, I sank down further and reached my bound hands toward the ground, but just before I could touch the floor, a hand clasped over my shoulder, stopping me.

"Stand up," commanded the voice behind me, still cold but tighter than before — almost strangled. "I will bring you to the cell now."

The hand left my shoulder, and a gentle tug tightened the rope around my wrists. I jerked to my feet and followed the pull forward. Another door opened before me and then closed behind me, shutting me off the smells and sounds of the crowd.

Based on the dank echo of our footsteps, we had entered a long corridor. The earthy smell and chill gave the impression we were deep underground, though we had only descended one flight of stairs. Izra guided me to the right, and we walked a ways further before stopping.

I heard the clink of a key and wondered what kind of room I was about to enter. Though I did not smell vomit or blood, Izra had warned me the cell would not be comfortable. Would torture tools hang from the walls? Would gaunt faces of other prisoners greet me?

Tension on the rope drew me forward once more. When the door creaked shut behind me, a chill nibbled at my skin and wormed in my gut. For a few seconds, only Izra's quiet breaths filled my ears. Then a steady percussive strike led to a gentle crackle of flame, and faint light permeated the coarse fabric over my eyes.

A warm hand swept under my wrists, and fingers picked at the rope. When the ropes loosened and flumped to the ground, Izra untied the blindfold.

Packed dirt formed the three back walls, floor and ceiling, all meeting at rounded corners. The space lay utterly bare except for a few scuttling insects and a lumpy gray mat in one back corner and a wooden bucket in the other.

"It's cold in here," Izra said.

My gaze flicked to her, but her eyes pierced the mat, profile revealing little. I swallowed once before remembering how to speak.

"It's not too bad."

She squinted at the mat as though struggling to read some tiny scrawl. "Not nearly as bad as what the wild boars do to us. And someone will bring you food in the morning. It won't be much, but it's what we all eat." An audible hesitation of irregular breath. "I don't think you need anything else." Her voice tilted up at the end, a half-question.

"No, this is fine. Except..."

"Except?"

I swallowed again and pinched my thigh hard enough to sting before forcing the words out in a stream. "There is this little Trogolese girl — Rona. Pim and I found her in the forest after a Trogolese warship sank, and Pim took her back to his house. Except now Pim is gone, and —" My voice splintered and crumbled, grinding to dust.

Rona is gone, too.

How long could a tiny child really have survived on her own in enemy territory — especially one with bright bronze fur decorating her face like a shining target? Still, I owed it to Pim to try, so I forced myself to continue.

"And I looked for her already this morning, but I want to try again. She might have returned to Pim's house for food."

Izra released a long breath. "You agreed to come here as a prisoner. A prisoner cannot simply leave whenever they want."

"Some Resistance members could join me, and you could blindfold and tie me again."

"You must realize this sounds like a trap."

"Izra, I swear I'm not —"

But my voice cut off as a possibility occurred to me. What if the King found Rona when he captured Pim, but he omitted the truth to draw me to look for her? What if he hoped I would lead the rebels to Pim's house? Even though my loyalties had changed, was I still his puppet?

"You're right," I said. "It could be a trap."

A silence followed. Then Izra spoke softly.

"I have a contact who knows some Trogolese mercenaries. Maybe I can reach out to them and tell them about this girl."

My eyes flitted to her face, but I could not read her expression. "Thank you."

"Please don't."

* * *

Glaring lantern light jolted me awake. Then a fist smashed just above my temple, and my head snapped to the side and cracked against the wall. Dizziness crashed over me, and a ring pulsed in my ears. Before I could recover, hands flipped me so my chest smacked the ground and my teeth bit into the dirt floor.

Someone wrenched my arms behind my back, and rough rope cinched around my wrists. I jerked up an elbow and connected with soft flesh. The person behind me grunted, and the grip on my wrists loosened for a bare second. Then a knee shoved down my back, and the rope tightened again, twisting my arms up behind me. Pain flamed from my shoulders to my fingertips.

Movement flashed in my peripheral, and I craned my neck to see shiny black boots and trousers fitted over bulging thigh muscles.

"Denavin." With the heavy knee still pinning my back, my voice left in a breathless croak.

She crouched down in front of me. Despite the chill, a sleeveless vest hugged her broad shoulders and revealed the prominent muscles of her biceps and forearms. The bright lantern light gleamed over her toothy smile.

Metal scraped metal, and then Denavin laid her dagger across her open palms, shifting the blade to watch the silver sparkle. Strangely even the sight of the blade failed to alarm me. Only a vague sense of loss carved a cold hollow in my chest.

"Epsa," said Denavin. "Tell me why are you really here."

"I want to join the Resistance."

Denavin tsked. "Now, the Resistance doesn't have any of those pokers or pliers or saws, but I can do amazing things with just a knife. Do you want to tell me the truth now, or shall I demonstrate my talents?"

I twisted my neck around a bit further and glimpsed one other woman in the room, a head shorter than Denavin but just as muscular. Her pale veiny skin flashed in the light, and her blonde hair hung in limp strands. When I caught her eyes, she swallowed and averted her gaze.

"Where is Izra?" My throat scratched over the words, and a dirty strand of saliva trickled from the corner of my mouth, pooling where my left cheek pressed against the floor. "Does she know you are doing this?"

Denavin dropped one knee to the ground and pressed the tip of the dagger to my right cheek. She drew the blade down over my jaw to touch my jugular slowly, carefully, almost a caress. Her voice remained calm.

"Know about it? Why, she ordered it."

A moment of uncertainty twisted my gut. Izra had warned me not to trust her, and she had ordered me to my knees with a coldness I did not know she possessed. Not nearly as bad as what the wild boars do to us. But my stomach refused the thought, and I spat it back out half-digested.

"I don't believe that."

Denavin chuckled. "Why? Are you really stupid enough to think she still cares about you?"

"Izra would not send someone else to do her dirty work. If she wanted this done, she would do it herself."

"Denavin," said the woman beside the door, speaking in Pim's harsh, choppy accent. "Maybe we should check with Izra once more, just to make sure —"

"No." Denavin's face pinched for a moment before relaxing again. "Izra is exhausted from everything that has happened today, Plu. She would not like to be awoken."

The woman kneeling on my back lifted up slightly and spoke in a voice startlingly similar to Plu's. "Denavin... Izra did order this, right?"

"I have known you and Plu since you were both tiny babies, Ru. Think of what the Royal Guard has done to your family. Do you really trust this wild boar more than me?"

The knee pressed down again, grinding into my backbone. "No, Denavin. You're right, of course. I trust you."

"Good." The blade traveled along my neck, still not piercing the skin, and settled along my collarbone. Then the fabric of my tunic stretched taut, and threads snapped, slicing the material open to halfway down my back. The blade touched my newly exposed skin, tracing my shoulder blade and gently exploring the muscle over my ribcage. Though the fear I should have felt remained strangely absent, my muscles and jaw both clenched at the unwelcome touch, and the chill of the dirt below me and blade on my back sent shivers down my spine.

Denavin paused and leaned down for a better view of my face, smiling at me. "Last chance to tell us your real motives."

"I want to join the Resistance," I gritted out through clenched teeth.

She exhaled heavily, but her smile did not waver. Digging a hand into her pocket, she pulled out a cloth and shoved the rough fabric into my mouth.

A gag... so no one would hear me scream?

The fear hit.

Panic bolted through me, more physical than mental, my body refusing to allow what my mind refused to process. I bucked my hips and yanked at the rope tying my hands, succeeding only in bruising my spine and tightening the knot.

The blade pierced my skin.

I had been nicked during practice sword fights plenty of times, once badly enough that the King ordered me to rest for a week before I resumed practice. However, none of that pain prepared me for the slow, deliberate invasion of the sharp blade, and the utter wrongness of the sadistic slice through my muscles. I chomped down on the fabric as sharp, hot pain surged through me.

The blade withdrew, and Denavin balanced it over her hands again, watching crimson blood trickle to the floor. Smirking, she snatched the cloth from my mouth.

"Are you ready to tell me the truth yet?"

I blinked back the tears threatening to fill my eyes and glared at her. "I already have."

She stuffed the cloth back into my mouth fast enough that I gagged. The blade gleamed bright as Denavin raised it again, and my back spasmed to protest the impending continuation. Then the feet near the door shuffled closer, and Plu whispered a choked question.

"Denavin, what if she's telling the truth?"

I glanced toward Plu again, but her gaze traveled between Ru and Denavin, carefully avoiding me. Denavin shot Plu a withering scowl.

"She's a wild boar, and she tricked Izra before. She's obviously not telling the truth."

"Can't we wait until Izra can join us?"

"You've always been the cowardly twin, haven't you?"

The knee on my back shifted as Ru huffed a breath that puffed over my back. "Denavin, focus on our enemy here and leave Plu alone. Whatever needs to be done, let's get it over with."

Denavin hummed agreement and the blade touched the same place as before. Even just grazing the surface, my nerves screamed out a protest, and I squeezed my eyes shut.

Then the door swung open, and the dagger clattered to the ground beside me as Denavin scrambled to her feet. Even without opening my eyes, I recognized the new set of footsteps that entered the room.

"Izra!" Denavin's loud cheer strained at the edges. "What are you doing here in the middle of the night?"

Silence.

The knee left my back, and Ru shuffled back a few steps.

More silence.

Finally, I peeled my eyes open and rolled over to sit up. Izra's slim figure stood motionless in the doorway, eyes locked on me and fingers clenching a lumpy bundled blanket. Her white-knuckled fists suddenly resembled claws, and her eyes shone blacker than I had ever seen them before.

Then her gaze flicked to Denavin, and she strode forward to face her. Voice laced with some kind of dangerous humor, she said, "Funny, I could ask the same question of you."

Denavin swallowed and slid one heel back a foot. "Izra, I couldn't watch you throw away everything we have worked for together just because this fucking wild boar —"

Her words cut off as Izra's fist slammed into her gut.

My own stomach clenched at the memory of her viper-strike. I recalled how I had dropped back, winded and momentarily defenseless. Then Izra had stopped, allowing me to catch my breath before attacking again.

But Izra did not stop now.

While Denavin still clutched her stomach and wheezed, Izra's fist hooked up to smash into her jaw, cheekbone, nose. Denavin's hands shot up to protect her face, and Izra threw more punches at her gut. Muffled by her own arms, Denavin gasped out a plea.

"Izra, stop! Wait, please! Let's —"

Izra's fist connected with Denavin's nose with a crack, and blood gushed over her mouth and chin and dripped to the ground.

Plu and Ru finally broke their silence. "Izra, that's enough. Please, stop. Izra, this is Denavin, your best friend..."

Izra's fists flurried, pounding flesh as Denavin stumbled back to cower against the wall. Despite my fear and hatred from moments prior, watching Izra pummel her own friend with such ferocity was somehow unsettling. Right then, she hardly seemed human.

"Stop." The voice came from me this time, though I did not ask my mouth to move.

Izra froze, fists still raised and chest heaving with breath, and her gaze returned to me. A flicker of softness returned to her eyes, a touch of humanity. She took a deep breath and held it for a moment before turning back to Denavin.

"You betrayed the cause by undermining my authority."

Denavin drew herself up to her full height, though she still clutched her nose. Her words muddled, muted and nasally. "You betrayed us by turning yourself in to save a boy not even part of Rashika's Resistance. A fucking bread peddler!"

Denavin lurched one step to swing a hand toward me, and despite my best efforts, I flinched back. "And now, now you've been blinded by this wild boar..."

Izra slipped into the space between us facing Denavin.

"You will leave now, Denavin. You are no longer part of Rashika's Resistance."

Denavin huffed a laugh that crackled with blood. "Izra, we have been friends for twenty years. I used to protect you when the caretakers tried to beat the stutter out of you. For a while, we were... more than friends." Denavin laid a bloody hand on Izra's shoulder. "Doesn't any of that matter?"

Izra reached up to push Denavin's hand off of her shoulder. "It matters," she said, voice neutral. "That's why I used my fists instead of my knife."