Morrighan - Mary E. Pearson Page 0,24

from this day forward. That is all you need to know.”

One of his men snorted as if Harik had already allowed me to speak too much. I was less than a prisoner to them. I was property. But I knew I was something else too. Something so shameful even Ama wouldn’t speak of it.

I was one of them. Half scavenger. Was that why she had lied about my father being dead? Had she hoped that by erasing it from memory, she could erase it from my blood, too? Was there some part of me—his part—always in danger of coming to the surface? My skin crawled thinking of it, and I wished I could banish the knowledge of him from my head. The fortress on the other side of the river grew in the distance, hideous ruins that would soon be my home. I thought of my last glimpse of Ama reaching out for me, and tears welled in my eyes again.

We had been making a pallet to carry Pata when they came. In another hour, we would have been gone, but no one had expected a return visit so soon. We had nothing left for them to take—at least that’s what we had thought. I had already been choking back tears all morning. The sight of Jafir jumped again and again through my thoughts, the flash of events swirling, his words, so strained and measured, Do you understand? Now, step back. Something about them didn’t feel right, didn’t fit with everything else.

One of Harik’s thugs slowed his horse and stood high in his stirrups, squinting into the distance. “Someone’s coming,” he said. They all stopped, and we turned to watch the rider racing across the barren ground, leaving a long trail of dust behind him. I shook my head, confused. I knew who it was. What was he doing?

The brute sat back in his saddle. “Only one of the Fergus clan.”

Harik slid from his saddle and pulled me down with him, announcing we would make a short stop while we waited for Fergus’s messenger. He shoved a skin of water toward me, but I refused it. “You will drink sooner or later. And thank me for it.”

“I will never thank you for anything.”

His brows pulled down sharply as if his patience was spent, his chest puffing up, and I thought he might strike me, but then he paused, studying me, and something else passed through his eyes. He blinked and looked away. I wondered if he had seen my mother when he looked at me. Ama said I looked just like her except for my hair.

The wild thud of hooves descended on us, and Jafir pulled back, bringing his horse to a quick stop. He slid from his saddle but avoided my gaze, looking only at Harik. He wasted no time letting him know the purpose of his visit. “I’ve come to trade. I have a bag of grain for her.”

Harik stared at him, then finally laughed, realizing Jafir was serious. “A single bag of grain? For her? She’s far more valuable than that.”

Jafir’s eyes turned molten. “It is all I have. You will take it.”

There was a drawn moment of held breath and then low snickers from Harik’s men. Their hands went to the swords, eager to draw them from their scabbards. I stared at Jafir, his feet planted as if nothing could move him. All he carried at his side was a dagger. Had he gone mad?

I would cut out my own heart before I would let any harm come to you.

“Do you hear yourself, boy?” Harik asked. “Are you still drunk from last night?”

“I am not drunk. I am waiting.”

“And if I don’t make the trade, then what?”

Jafir’s hand went to the dagger at his side, resting but threatening. “You are a man of reason. And you know value. You know what is best. You will take the grain.”

Harik rubbed his chin as if amused by Jafir’s audacity, and his other hand curled around the hilt of his sheathed sword. I inhaled, choking back a moan. Harik’s gaze shot to me. I couldn’t breathe. He studied me, his expression impossible to read, and then he finally grunted, shaking his head. “So that’s how it is.”

He looked back at Jafir, deep lines furrowing across his brow in a scowl. “You are a fool, boy. I am getting the better deal. She is trouble, this one. Have it your way! Take her!” He shoved me toward Jafir, and I