Beneath the Forsaken City by C. E. Laureano

flee, he would be yanked off his horse and strangled at the end of the noose.
    The prisoner noticed Aine’s eyes on him and met her gaze with a smug grin. She turned away. Why couldn’t Taran have just killed him back in the forest?
    The bloodthirsty thought surprised her, but no more than the brutality of her first few days back in Aron. Somehow she had thought that once she set foot on home soil she would be safe. How had she ever felt safe here?
    “My lady, allow me.” Pepin knelt at the side of the horse and offered his knee as a step. Aine grabbed a handful of the horse’s mane and hauled herself atop its back and then tugged her skirt down over her legs. The others mounted and the group moved as one, surrounding Aine and the prisoner. Taran took the lead and urged the party into a brisk walk.
    After several moments, Aine asked, “What did you mean when you said Comdiu sent you?”
    “Do you always ask this many questions?”
    “No, not usually.”
    “Comdiu did not send a bolt of lightning or write the command on the wall, if that’s what you mean.” A hint of a smile colored Taran’s voice. “I’ve been after Lord Gabhran for years. When I heard about the bounty, I knew he would be first in line to go after you, so we picked up his trail. When I saw you there, I knew Comdiu meant me to intervene. Somehow you’re important.”
    “You’re a Balian, then.”
    “Comdiu may have abandoned me when I needed Him, but I did not abandon Him. Where He directs, I obey.”
    Aine frowned. There was no hint of humor or irony in the mercenary’s voice. He truly believed Comdiu had failed him, yet he still obeyed   —this man who had turned his back on his lord, if he had indeed ever served one. How did one respond to a statement like that?
    With gratitude, she decided at last. She cleared her throat. “Then thank you. I will gladly accept your help returning to the safety of my aunt’s house.”
    Taran remained quiet for so long, she began to wonder if she’d offended him. Then he cast one more unreadable look over his shoulder. “That’s where you’re wrong, my lady. There is no safety in your aunt’s house.”

CHAPTER TEN
    “How bad is it? ”
    Aine jerked upright at Taran’s voice behind her, feeling as if she’d been caught doing something wrong. She rolled down her shredded sleeves to conceal the scrapes she’d been washing in the stream and straightened her dress before turning.
    “Not bad. Just needed cleaning to avoid infection.” She kept her tone light, but the memory of those terror-filled moments pinned to the forest floor made her shudder. She wrapped her arms around herself and trudged up the bank toward camp.
    Taran came alongside her. “Are you all right?”
    How was she supposed to answer that question? Aine had not allowed herself to dwell on the day’s events, but they still hovered in the back of her mind. In fact, all the terrible things that had happened   —Conor’s ambush, her kidnapping, their bloody escape from Glenmallaig, and then her near-drowning in the Amantine Sea   —hung like a dark cloud over her subconscious. But that wasn’t the answer Taran sought. He wanted to know if she could hold herself together until they arrived at Forrais, nothing more.
    “I’m fine.” Aine gave the mercenary a wan smile. “Can I help with camp?”
    Taran shrugged and fell into step beside her as they walked back to the men.
    Nearby, Sigurd stood watch over Lord Gabhran, where he’d been tied to a tree. Pepin was putting dried meat, vegetables, and fresh herbs into a wooden bowl of water. Aine watched, baffled, until he nudged several small rocks from the fire and used his leather vest to drop the stones into the bowl. Steam hissed from the water, which began to boil before her eyes.
    Taran immediately took up a hand ax and began to chop kindling. Apparently their discussion, cursory as it had been, was over.
    There was no room for another person in this well-rehearsed