CHAPTER NINE

FIDELE

Fidele held a knife to the Vin Thalun’s throat as Maquin bound the man’s hands about the trunk of a tree.

Lykos’ secret, Fidele repeated the words their prisoner had uttered back at the woodcutters’ cabin. The giantess and her whelp. Those words had kept him alive, at least for a little while longer.

‘What do you mean?’ Maquin had asked.

‘I’ll show you,’ the pirate had said, refusing to comment further, even when Maquin had put his knife to the man’s throat and drawn blood.

Fidele and Maquin had shared a look, both of them intrigued. Fidele had changed into the breeches and woollen tunic Maquin had stolen for her. Then they had walked into the forest, Fidele a pace behind Maquin, who held his knife close to the Vin Thalun’s back, following a path that was little wider than a fox’s trail. As far as Fidele could make out, the Vin Thalun led them south, which was fine by her as it was away from Jerolin and Lykos. They passed through rolling woodland that turned steadily thicker. Dusk settled over them quickly, the forest becoming a place of dense shadows and eerie sounds, and now darkness was thick about them. The trail ahead was almost invisible. They’d stopped for the night; their prisoner sat with his back to a tree, arms bound about it.

‘No fire,’ Maquin said as Fidele passed the knife back to him and started gathering forest litter. Fidele frowned. Walking through the forest she had been sweating, but soon after they stopped she felt cold, shivering despite the cloak Maquin had stolen for her. The thought of a fire had lifted her spirits for a moment. She forgave Maquin when he opened the cloak that he was using as a makeshift sack, revealing a round of cheese and a leg of cold mutton. Fidele’s stomach growled at the sight of it. Maquin cut her a slice of each and she set to devouring them.

‘Any spare?’ the Vin Thalun asked them. Maquin gave him a flat stare but said nothing.

Starve, you animal, Fidele thought. Just the sight of the Vin Thalun, his dark beard bound with iron rings, his sun-weathered skin, even the way he looked at her, all reminded her of Lykos. A tremor ran through her at the thought of the Vin Thalun King, part fear, part hatred.

Shame and anger followed quickly. I am a coward, pathetic. But why do I still fear him? I stabbed him, maybe killed him. But when she thought of Lykos, she didn’t see him collapsed and bleeding in the arena. No, she smelt him, his sour breath in her face, felt his hands gripping her, his will controlling her.

No! An inner scream. I will not be ruled by him still. And even if he does still live, he no longer has the effigy. He has no power over me. She clenched her fists, nails biting into her palms. If I believed that, I would have walked back to Jerolin, not be sitting here, shivering and starving with a pirate and a trained killer.