one side of his mustache lifting in a smile in front of her. But he said nothing.
He knew. He knew why. So did she. It was because there was something so noble in Caleb’s eyes, in his purpose—to avenge the land. Very admirable, but foolish.
“Jonas!” Caleb called out, pointing to a figure lying alone and motionless in the middle of the road. He stopped his horse and quickly dismounted.
“What’s he doing?” Willow breathed. She could feel the foreboding in the air with every cautious step Caleb took toward the still figure lying on the ground.
“Caleb, wait!” Jonas’ voice was riddled with panic. He vaulted from his horse just as his friend crouched beside the motionless body to get a closer look. “It could be a trap.” Jonas called out, reaching over his shoulder at the same time for his sword.
Caleb turned to him. “He’s hurt, Jonas. He needs help. Get the water.” But even as he spoke, the figure rose up behind him.
Jonas cursed and took off toward him.
Chapter 6
Caleb was grabbed around the neck and the cold metal of a dagger against his throat made him raise his hands for Jonas to retreat. His expression had only changed for an instant. His voice was steady and calm as if he were speaking to a dear friend rather than a filthy knave with a dagger threatening his life. “Do you thirst?” Caleb asked the man behind him quietly.
“Ya.” The man answered, keeping his eyes fixed on Jonas and the others. “Tell dem sit,” he demanded. His clothes were torn and filthy and his long hair clung to his face, wet and dark with sweat. But it was his eyes that would always haunt Willomenia. They were wild with fear. His irises, yellow with the jaundice that wreaked havoc on his body.
“Jonas, sit down.” Caleb almost whispered. “Pethar, get him some water.”
As soon as Jonas sat, the rocks around them came alive with the men who were hidden behind them.
Willow gasped as terror gripped her, but Caleb motioned for her to stay on Jonas’ horse. His tranquil expression never changed.
The newly revealed knaves looked the same as the first, long hair flowing thin and dirty down their backs. They emerged, one by one from behind rocks and boulders and gathered around Caleb, blocking him from his men. Jonas was about to attack when they sat down on the hot ground with legs folded in front of them. Many of the wild men faced Caleb, but some watched Jonas and the others cautiously with the same yellow eyes. They were pitifully thin, with sullen cheeks and waxy skin, and Willow wasn’t sure whether she wanted to scream or weep with sorrow.
“Jarod,” Caleb called in a soft voice. “Get more water.”
“But our supply…” the young blond Warrior began to argue.
“Jarod!” Jonas hissed, “Don’t question him…ever!”
“They need it, Jarod.” Caleb explained, his voice gentle and soft. “Look at them.”
“Who are they?’ Willow asked Jarod as he untied two water bags from Jonas’ horse.
“The desert people.”
Ten feet away from her, Caleb spoke quietly, reassuring them they would not be harmed. Slowly the blade was withdrawn from his throat and Caleb sat with them while they drank to their fill.
Willow watched the scene before her in quiet astonishment while Caleb carried on many conversations at once with the men now eager to know him.
“What are they doing in Predaria if they are desert people?” She whispered to Jonas who had returned to her but never took his eyes off Caleb. He was less trusting than his commander and the distance between them was playing on his nerves like sand in a wound.
“They are here looking for water,” he told her.
Willow gave the Warrior a skeptical look, “But I thought we gave them all our water when my father signed the trade agreement.”
“We did, but every bit of it got contaminated in the process of transporting it and many of their people died.”
For a moment, she simply stared at Jonas’ strong profile. It wasn’t possible that her father had done all this. How could the actions of one man effect so many? She turned her gaze to the commander sitting comfortably among the sick. His smile was radiant and warm. Against the grayness of their skin, Caleb appeared golden, like a perfectly carved statue, save there was nothing cold in him at that moment. Many of the desert people had no teeth, rotted out of their mouths by disease and decay, while Caleb’s teeth flashed white under