The Bloodsworn by Erin Lindsey

Turning it over, he whistled admiringly. “Bloodforged as well. My, my, we are well kitted, aren’t we? Now—the rest of you.”
    Reluctantly, Ide dropped her sword, as did Dain. Vel had no weapon to divest herself of.
    The sword flicked away from Alix’s jaw and a slight figure stepped in front of her. He pulled his own hood back to reveal a shock of white hair and the most unsettling green eyes Alix had ever seen. He was pretty even for an Andithyrian; with his fine features and high cheekbones, he looked almost fey.
    â€œAsvin,” said Vel, “it’s good to see you again.”
    â€œAnd you, Daughter.” The lack of surprise in his voice confirmed Alix’s suspicion: they’d been following for a while, at least long enough to realise Vel was in the party. It was probably the only reason they’d shown themselves.
    â€œI worried about your fate in the grain silo attack,” Vel said.
    The slight man cocked his head. “How did you know I led the grain silo attack?”
    â€œA lightning strike designed to distract and confuse? Who better than the lightning-quick Asvin?”
    â€œBy Hew,” said one of the Andithyrians, “she does pay attention.”
    â€œBy Farika,” Asvin said, “she does flatter.”
    Alix was in no mood for banter. “How long have you been following us?”
    â€œLong enough,” Asvin said. “Nice work with the roaches yesterday.”
    She scowled. “I suppose you mean the Oridians. Do I take it you stood by and watched that? Your friend the priestess here nearly died.”
    The green eyes regarded her coolly. “We had no notion of who you were. Still don’t, aside from Daughter Vel here. General Black’s men, I presume?”
    â€œGeneral Black’s sister, in fact,” Vel said conversationally.
    Asvin arched a white eyebrow. “Is that so? The same sister who snuffed the Priest?”
    Alix felt herself flush. “It wasn’t I who killed him. It was my comrade, Gwylim. I just helped smuggle in the black powder.”
    â€œNow that,” Asvin said, “was some
quality
sneaking. I should know.”
    â€œIt does seem to be a talent we share,” Alix said, not warmly.
    â€œI’d fancy hearing that tale, but it’ll have to wait.” He sheathed his sword and gestured for his men to gather up the weapons. “You know the procedure, Daughter.”
    â€œBlindfolds.” Vel nodded. “Please proceed.”
    It was more than a little presumptuous, but Alix let it go. It seemed her brother had been right, and Vel did know her way around these men.
Time to earn your keep, priestess.
    They were bound and hooded, loaded onto the back of an oxcart among sacks of turnips smelling of mould. Someone pulled a blanket over them, and they were off, jouncing along the narrow dirt track they’d been following when Wraith’s men ambushed them.
    â€œBloody undignified, this,” Ide muttered, but the rest of them endured it in silence.
    After what seemed like forever, the oxcart came to a halt. Someone climbed up and set to cutting their bonds. As soon as her wrists were free, Alix pulled the sack off her head, squinting in the harsh sunlight. A shadow resolved itself into Asvin, looking amused. “Stiff?”
    â€œRather,” she said, wincing as she worked her joints.
    â€œI’m sorry for it. It’s not that we don’t trust you, but . . .” He shrugged.
    â€œBut you don’t trust us enough.”
    His smile vanished. “Trust is death in occupied Andithyri, my lady. You’d best remember it.” He leapt down from the oxcart and offered a hand.
    Alix took in her surroundings. A remote farmstead, from the look of things, probably much like the place where Rodrik grew up. For that matter, it could have been just about anywhere in Alden, so anonymous were its features. Their base ofoperations, or simply a safe