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  She put a hand on his knee. “No. You’re a fighter. There’s a difference. I see it in you. You offered help to a man you barely knew. Why?”

  He hesitated. “Because…I saw what happened to Litty. And I saw what it did to him. I guess…I guess if I hadn’t done something, it would’ve been quite miserable of me.”

  Her eyes brightened, and she nodded. “And when Kora was in danger from the snapjaws, you helped her as well, when it could’ve have cost you your life.”

  “I wanted to run.”

  “But you didn’t. And you were willing to make a hard decision and look for Kora, when you knew the odds of finding her were slim. You’re a fighter,” she said again, “Because in the face of adversity, you do what you know is right.”

  Ram had no answer. Her words comforted him, but he didn’t know if he could bring himself to believe them. The doubts still raged in his mind. Kora was still in danger, Daniel was still out in the wilderness, and he was still second-guessing his decision.

  As though reading his thoughts, Myra said, “According to our law, Kora is guilty. There is no denying that. But,” she raised a finger, “I will do all I can to save her life, small as my part may be.” She repacked her satchel and stood. “Rest now.” She crossed the room and stopped in the doorway. She looked over her shoulder. “Nikolai speaks of nothing but a world that is cruel and unjust. I’ve seen that it is so. And yet, every once in a while, someone like you comes along. You said I was different. Well…maybe we both are.”

  Their eyes met one more time, and he thought she might say something else, but then she was gone, and the door shut behind her. Ram sat on the bed, her words replaying like a looping soundtrack in his head. Her perception and understanding baffled him.

  With his arm properly tended to, and his mind still spinning, he did what he had been wanting to do for a long time—he fell back on the cot, and no sooner had his head hit the flat pillow than he fell asleep.

  * * *

  Ram awoke to the sound of footsteps hurrying down the corridor. He sat up and rubbed his eyes. He had no idea how long he had been asleep. Once again, the door swung open, and this time Koldin stepped in.

  Ram snapped fully awake. “You have news?”

  Koldin’s face betrayed no emotion. “I spoke with Nikolai. He listens, but will not waver. His mind is clouded by anger, though he won’t openly show it. As we speak, he’s readying the noose. He intends to make us all watch, to send a message. Among Akorites, vows are unbreakable.”

  Ram dropped his face into his palms. “Then we failed. I failed.”

  “Not yet,” said Koldin. “Nikolai won’t be swayed by any form of pleading, but there is one card I can play, still. Sometimes, the only way to take a bone from a dog is to give it a toy.”

  “Do you have a plan?”

  Koldin motioned him to rise. “Come with me.”

  * * *

  Ram entered the mess hall with a dry tongue and a quick pulse, and though he towered over Koldin, he remained close behind. He felt like he was walking into a lion cage. The hall was much larger than it needed to be for the number of people gathered, but he imagined that, once upon a time, the tables would have been lined with soldiers. As it was now, one hardwood table had been pulled into the center of the hall, and at the head of this table sat Nikolai, picking at a callous on his thumb with the tip of a hunting knife.

  Seeing the leader of the Akorites for the first time, Ram was surprised at how young he looked. He was expecting a seasoned veteran, with leathery skin and scars to tell tales for days. Nikolai, with his fair hair and a youthful face that bespoke confidence, if not smugness, was far from this image. He barely glanced up from his lap as Koldin and Ram made their way across the stone tiles and took their seats.

  Ram tried to swallow past the lump in his throat as he surveyed the others gathered around the table, murmuring amongst themselves, as though they each had a prediction of the outcome of this meeting but were unwilling to share it save with whoever sat immediately next to them. Koldin leaned close and told Ram who they were one at a time. Besides Nikolai, there were six. On the far side of the table sat Tarvin, who had met them at the entrance to Bryn Mawr; his elder brother Barin, who sat near Nikolai, glowering in dark silence; Dasha, a woman with prematurely graying hair who seemed a bit too jovial for the circumstances; and Lazar, whose boyish, timid eyes contrasted with his height. There was an empty seat beside Ram, but beyond that sat two dark-haired men that Koldin referred to simply as bruisers. Ram sucked in his breath—he recognized them as the men that had taken Kora by the Weeping River. He said nothing.

  As Koldin finished going through the gathered, Nikolai let out an impatient huff, swung his feet up to rest on the edge of the dark planks, and was about to say something when the door opened and light footsteps pattered in.

  Ram turned in his chair. It was Myra. She locked eyes with him, offered a slight smile and a reassuring nod, and took the seat next to him without a word. She smelled like pine needles.

  Nikolai rapped on the tabletop with his knife, and the murmurings dwindled away almost immediately. “Koldin,” he said in a boisterous voice, “You’ll have to introduce us to your friend.”

  All eyes shifted towards Ram, and he squirmed in his seat, as though he were being examined by a jury. He folded his hands under the table, not wanting anyone to see just how jittery he was. A hand lightly touched his forearm, and without looking, he knew it was Myra’s.

  Koldin nodded and addressed the Akorites. “As I’ve explained to Nikolai, this is Ram. I met him in the forest earlier this evening, and though he’ll likely tell you I saved him from a wildcat, the opposite is just as true. I brought him here for medical attention.”

  Ram showed his bandaged arm and gave it a little wave, whether as proof of Koldin’s claim or a greeting, he wasn’t sure. It wound up an awkward mix of both. Lazar stared at him with wide eyes. Barin raised a quizzical eyebrow, and Ram could feel one of the bruisers glaring daggers into him. He could only hope he wouldn’t run into either of them on his own.

  “Ram and a friend of his found Kora in a snapjaw nest,” Koldin went on, ignoring the mixed reactions. “They saved her and took her under their protection until her capture by the Weeping River.”

  At the mention of snapjaws, Lazar’s cheek grew a shade paler of white.

  Nikolai crossed his arms over his chest. “And so we’re here,” he said, “Pretending to be wise elders around a council table, deciding Kora’s fate. Rattle my ribs, Koldin, the only reason he’s allowed to stay,” he jabbed a finger at Ram, “Is because one argument with you is enough for me to have to deal with.”

  Ram wasn’t sure how to take that statement, but Koldin merely dipped his chin in, and he wasn’t about to object, so he concentrated on putting on as confident a façade as he could.

  Nikolai blew out a breath through his nostrils. “Well, so long as we’re diving into diplomacy, let’s lay out all the cards on the table, shall we?” A few heads nodded. “Kora abandoned her post—left you for dead, Koldin—and thus marked herself as a deserter. According to our law…” he trailed off with raised eyebrows.

  Dasha finished for him. “Deserters get the rope.”

  “She endangered us all,” added Barin in a bearlike voice, “If the Preceptors had gotten their paws on her, they’d have tortured her for information. And mark my words, any spineless guttard that runs from a mere firefight would squeal at the first bit of pain. They’d have found us, and—”

  “The fact of the matter is,” Koldin interrupted him, “The Preceptors didn’t find her. The snapjaws set upon her before she’d made it three miles.”

  Barin glowered. “Would’ve been better for her had they minced her.”

  Ram didn’t know what guttard meant, and he half believed Barin had made the word up. His distaste for the man was rising by the second.

  “Those bloodthirsty things got Riona, though,” said Lazar. His voice wavered the slightest bit, and Ram won
dered what ties he might have had with her before her death.

  “That wasn’t Kora’s doing,” said Koldin.

  “So she says,” muttered Barin. A few of the others shared uneasy glances.

  Nikolai clicked his tongue and drew their attention back to him. “Riona’s death is a tangent right now.” Lazar’s gaze dropped. “Kora is guilty either way, and grind my guts, I’ll have her justly punished for breaking her vow.” He finished emphatically, locking eyes with Koldin. A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. “I promised you the floor, old friend. Well, have at it.”

  Ram’s spirits fell. Koldin was right—this man would not be dissuaded.

  The room fell silent as all eyes turned towards Koldin. His lips tightened into a thin line, and he slowly swept the hall with his gaze, as though getting a feel for where each of the Akorites stood on the matter. Their faces were blank, save for Lazar’s worried frown and Tarvin’s oblivious grin.

  Koldin shifted his weight. “Nikolai is right,” he said, to Ram’s shock. “Kora must be punished, and if the face of death is what she ran from, then the face of death is what she must meet justice by.”

  A murmur passed around the table. Even Nikolai looked confused. Such was Ram’s surprise that he almost burst out in protest, but again, Myra’s hand on his arm stilled him. He bit his lower lip.

  “But,” said Koldin, raising a finger, “She is your oath-sister and your friend. Don’t let anger and hurt cloud your judgment. If she broke her vow, give her a chance to redeem it.”

  Dasha squinted. “All this diplomacy is already making my head hurt. Don’t make me unravel riddles, as well. Speak clearly.”

  Nikolai nodded his agreement. “What sort of sly suggestion do you have up your sleeve?”

  Koldin spoke slowly, as though testing cold waters. “I propose hand-to-hand combat—a duel, if you will—to settle her fate. Kora against the Preceptor. To the death.”

  Nikolai’s eyes narrowed, and he tapped his chin with the tip of his knife. “A straight up fight, eh? Don’t underplay how deep the hurt of betrayal goes. How is this supposed to atone for her crime?”

  “It’s simple,” said Koldin. “If Kora loses, she dies, and you have your justice. If she wins, she kills the Preceptor, and by doing so, she redeems herself through the blood of our enemies.”

  Nikolai shook his head. “Our captive captain may yet be the only way we can draw Maravek from hiding. I won’t risk losing my one bargaining chip.”

  Myra spoke up for the first time. “The Preceptors are gone. They’ve left the valley.”

  Her voice, though mild, cut through the room like an axe through a thread. Nikolai seemed to lock into position, his mouth half-open, and the others were equally stunned.

  “My thoughts were the same as yours,” said Koldin, breaking the silence, “So I had Myra scout from the ridges. It’s as she says. They’ve fixed the tracks, and the train is gone. If Maravek had so much as a care for our unfortunate prisoner, he would have made a move by now. I’d wager he’s on his selfish way to Galaratheas as we speak.” He met Nikolai’s gaze. “You have nothing to lose at this point. Let them fight. One will live, one will die, and we’ll be able to move on and make fresh plans.”

  One of the bruisers roused in his chair. “That’s not how our law—”

  “We’re not a courtroom,” said Koldin sharply, “We’re a family. One way or another, you’ll have your blood, but would you not give one of your own a chance to redeem herself? If so, you’re as heartless as Maravek himself.”

  A ripple of objections swept through the hall, and all order would have spiraled into outrage had Nikolai not burst into a fit of bitter laughter. “Rattle my ribs, your words are as sharp as your shooting, Koldin.” He slapped the tabletop with an open hand. “It’s no secret we’re an angry bunch. Life has dealt us all a sick hand, and I wonder if we haven’t become something very like what we fight against. As heartless as Maravek? Smite my skull if that’s so!” He calmed down some and leaned back. “Your proposal is intriguing, I’ll admit, though we could have had her strung up by now if not for you.” He toyed with his knife, pensive. “We’ll settle this by show of hand. Good old fashioned democracy.”

  Ram quickly counted heads. Nine Akorites and himself, though by the way Tarvin grinned at the ceiling, he wondered if his mental state would discount his vote right off the bat—if he was even aware of what was going on. At the moment, it didn’t seem so. He already assumed he would not get a say in the matter since he wasn’t one of them. He shook his head to himself. The odds leaned heavily towards a quick execution for Kora.

  Nikolai straightened in his chair with a smug grin. “Show a hand for Kora’s sentence to be carried through as planned.”

  The two bruisers each raised a hand, as Ram knew they would, and Dasha raised hers as well. Lazar hesitated, caught a meaningful glance from Dasha, and his hand shot skyward. Half an instant later, however, he withdrew it just as quickly, muttering something to himself which Ram could not catch.

  Nikolai’s hand went up as well, and after a quick survey of the table, he said, “Show a hand for Kora to fight the Preceptor.”

  Koldin raised his hand. Myra kept her chin up as though in quiet defiance as her own arm went up. Ram held his breath.

  Lazar’s head rocked back and forth like a ship caught between two currents. “Oh, hang it all,” he said in a shaky voice, “She was my friend, too.” His hand went up, and this time, it stayed there.

  “Well then,” said Nikolai, “Four against four.” He clicked his tongue, like a mother scolding a misbehaved child. “Someone hasn’t voted.”

  Everyone turned towards the end of the table where Barin sat. The brutish Akorite sat back with a blank expression on his face. His jaw worked back and forth, as though he were grinding his teeth.

  Sweat gathered on Ram’s palms. Barin’s say would tip the scale one way or another, and he was surprised the man hadn’t voted for Kora’s death right away with the others. His gruff demeanor and his gravelly words spoke of a man that wouldn’t miss a chance to see blood spilled. In fact, it could be that…

  “What’ll it be, Barin?” Nikolai tapped the table again.

  Before he could stop himself, Ram blurted out. “It’ll be a fight worth watching, like good sport, if you all hate Preceptors so much.” He was so surprised he had spoken out that his face heated like a furnace, and his knees knocked together.

  Barin stared at him with cold eyes, then his thick lips parted into a savage grin, and he chuckled. It sounded like a landslide. “The boy speaks like a man of the mountains. Very well. For the sake of good sport, we’ll have our fun. Let them fight.”

  Chapter Eleven

  It was morning. Ram felt as taught as a bowstring. Once the decision had been made to pit Kora against the captive Preceptor, heated arguments had erupted over the voting process. What Ram had noticed, to his growing alarm, was that it didn’t take long for Barin’s spectator spirit to catch like a fire, and the rest of the Akorites exchanged their willingness to execute Kora for an eagerness to witness the fight as though it were to be some kind of spectacle.

  Not willing to stay any longer, he had hurried up the stairs back to the second level and hadn’t seen anyone since. Now, after a sleepless night, he sat on the cot in the room the Akorites had provided for him, miserable both in mind and in body. He felt trapped between a wall of failure and a sword point of fear. Had he simply bit his tongue and remained silent, Barin would have likely sided with the others, and Kora would have been executed. But had he condemned her to an even worse fate by tipping the balance in their favor?

  Just as he felt he might retch then and there, the door opened, and Koldin hobbled into the room, followed by an ever-poised Myra. She closed the door behind her and hurried to Ram’s side, her emerald eyes glimmering with concern. “You look like you’ve been poisoned.”

  Ram couldn’t tell if that was a metaphor or a diagnosis. It could have been either one, for all he kn
ew. He tried to smile and reassure her that he was okay, but the smile turned into a pathetic grimace, and lying to her was pointless.

  Myra took one more look at him, and flitted from the room.

  Ram didn’t bother asking where she was going. Instead, he turned to Koldin and shrugged. “I’m scared. I’m not sure what I’ve done, and whatever it is, I don’t see how it’s helped things at all.”

  Koldin rubbed his bleary eyes. His knuckles were bruised and scraped up, as though he had taken out all his hidden anxiety on some unfortunate wall. It was obvious he hadn’t slept any more than Ram had. In fact, of the three of them, Myra was the only one who didn’t look like she belonged in a hospital bed. “At worst, you bought Kora the night,” he said, “And for that, I thank you. She has a chance now.”

  “Does she?” He propped his elbows on his knees and dropped his chin into his hands. “If this prisoner of yours is a Preceptor, hand-to-hand combat is second nature to him. They train for this sort of thing, you know. And Kora…” he shook his head. “Kora’s not the bravest bear in the forest.”

  Koldin showed the slightest hint of a grin. “Even the bear that fears death the most has to stand and fight when death has it cornered.” He let the statement sink in. “Kora will win.”

  A dozen objections came to mind, but Ram kept quiet. Koldin’s apparent confidence did little to soothe his churning nerves. His stomach still twisted into knots worthy of a sailor’s praise, and his hands felt as clammy as they did last night during the voting.

  Myra returned with an iron cast mug of steaming, dark liquid. She handed it to him. “This will help.”

  Ram took the mug, and the warmth seeped into his hands. A flurry of aromas rode the steam up into his face, and though he couldn’t distinguish any individual components, the smell had a soothing effect on him. “Some kind of superstitious healing potion your ancestors handed down to you, I’m assuming.”

  Myra laughed like a bubbling spring. If the sweet aromas made him feel better, her rippling voice did so threefold. For the first time, he noticed dimples on her cheeks. She shook her head at him. “It’s tea.”