“You shit-licking whoreson,” Gwenna snarled, lunging forward, her Urghul captors forgotten. One of the horsemen extended a spear and she went down face-first in the mud.

Balendin just raised his brows, his bonds not permitting much else. “I see that you’re not getting along with our hosts any better than I am. I guess that means we’re on the same side. Again.” He started to smile, then grimaced as his lip cracked open, bleeding anew.

“We were never on the same side,” Valyn said. Despite the cold, his skin blazed. His skin and his blood. Even the breath in his lungs seemed to burn. Like Gwenna, he’d nearly forgotten the surrounding horsemen. Whatever the Urghul were, whatever they were planning, this was the man who had murdered Amie and Ha Lin, who had come so close to murdering Kaden. Everything—their flight from the Eyrie, the Flea’s pursuit and Finn’s death, even their current captivity—could be traced right back to Balendin Ainhoa. Had Valyn not been so tightly bound, he would have leapt on the leach, would have wrung the life from his flesh. “We were never on the same side,” he said again. “And we never will be.”

He tried to collar his anger, to choke it back. Fury so blind and unreasoning was dangerous in any situation; around Balendin it was deadly. Valyn wasn’t likely to forget their last fight, that desperate night battle high in the Bone Mountains, Balendin knocking aside Annick’s arrows with the tiniest flick of his fingers, Balendin sending stones hurling through the darkness, Balendin chuckling smugly, knowing that as long as Valyn hated him, he would have power. All leaches were strange, unnatural creatures, but there was a world of difference between Talal, who relied on iron for his strength, and Balendin, who fed off the emotions of his foes. Balendin needed the fear and the rage, cultivated them, and while Valyn could, for the most part, master his fear of the leach, the rage was another matter entirely. Clearly the Urghul had drugged Balendin in the same way they had Talal. Had they not, the vicious bastard would already have gutted them all.

Balendin pursed his lips. “You’ve always had a hard time with compromise, Valyn. It’s a shame, particularly now. I could use an ally.” He cocked his head to the side. “And from the look of it, so could you.”

Before Valyn could reply, one of the taabe slammed a spear shaft into the backs of his knees, dropping him into the mud.

“Talk less,” the rider said, dismounting with obvious distaste, then tying Valyn in the same uncomfortable manner as Balendin.

Valyn tried to reply, but the Urghul cuffed him across the cheek.

“Talk less.”