A Time of Blood (Of Blood and Bone #2) - John Gwynne Page 0,38

take our right hands if we failed you,” Ruga said, a fleeting smile wrinkling her cold-face.

She probably would.

“You are brave and loyal,” Bleda said, “and I will not forget it.”

Footsteps. Bleda, looking up, fire-blind for a moment, saw two forms approaching, both tall, one thin, one broad.

“Mind if we join you?” Vald said.

Bleda looked up at them. “Of course not,” he said, shuffling to make room for them around the fire.

“Why are you not with your people?” Ellac asked.

“Doesn’t feel right,” Jost said. “We’ve been trained as White-Wings, but today was the first real battle we’ve seen, fought in, and we stood with you, not them. You stood with us, against them. That should mean something, not be forgotten.”

“Kol your Lord Protector said that enmity was all behind us,” Ellac said. Bleda saw he was staring keenly at the two young men.

“A world of difference between saying something and it being real,” Vald muttered.

“There is,” Ellac said flatly.

A shifting in the air, an unseen wind, and then dark shapes were descending, solid shadows dropping out of the night, taking form.

Kol, a few Ben-Elim with him, and Riv. Bleda felt a lurch in his chest at the sight of her. They alighted at the edge of Bleda’s firelight, shadow and flame casting them in hues of red and black.

Riv stood a step behind Kol, her eyes taking in Vald and Jost with Bleda and his guard, meeting Bleda’s gaze for a lingering moment, then looking away.

“A token to prove that I mean what I say,” Kol said. He gestured a hand, and one of the Ben-Elim stepped forwards, carrying a heavy bundle in his arms, wrapped in a wool cloak. He dropped it on the ground before Bleda, and weapons spilt out—the curved swords of the Sirak, knives, quivers of arrows, spears. Vald and Jost’s short-swords were there, too. The weapons that had been confiscated after the fight at the cabin.

“Take them back, wear them freely,” Kol said. “A sign both of my forgiveness for your past deeds, and of the trust I am giving you, for the future.” His eyes flitted to Riv, then back to Bleda and his companions.

Is this for Riv’s benefit? I do not trust him.

Nevertheless, Bleda stepped forwards and picked out his quiver and arrows, his weapons-belt with scabbarded sword and knife, and slung them over his shoulder. The others followed Bleda’s lead, apart from Mirim, who sat with her wounded leg stretched out straight before her.

“My thanks,” Bleda said. Six years living and surviving amongst the Ben-Elim at Drassil had taught him to keep his emotions closely guarded, and always to be polite, never to give cause for offence or to betray his thoughts.

Ellac sat and silently drew his sword, lay it across his lap and, fetching whetstone, scouring pad and oil from his belt pouch, set to cleaning black patches from his blade, the blood of Ben-Elim, no doubt. Ruga and Tuld did the same, Ruga passing sword and quiver to Mirim.

Kol watched in silence, firelight shining red in his eyes. When the weapons had all been reclaimed he nodded, looked at Bleda.

“Remember the kindness I am showing you, and the faith I am putting in you,” the Ben-Elim said.

“I will,” Bleda said.

I will remember this, and all else that you have done.

“I will, Lord Protector,” Kol said.

A moment’s silence, stretching. Bleda felt his companions’ eyes on him.

“I will, Lord Protector,” Bleda said quietly.

“I like the sound of that.” Kol grinned and leaped into the air, white wings snapping wide, his guard following. Riv paused, knees bent. Her wings beat, lifting her.

“Riv,” Bleda called out, and she hovered, looking down at him.

He just stared at her, felt his cold-face slip as he gazed into her eyes, so many things that he wanted to say, questions to ask.

Riv must have read them upon his face, but she did not land and talk to him, as he’d hoped. She looked down at him, her expression shifting. Grief, sorrow, shame, anger—always anger with Riv—all finally washed away by some kind of stony resolve that was not too different from Bleda’s own cold-face.

“It is for the greater good,” she said, and then with a pulse of her wings she disappeared into the darkness.

Bleda sat with the others, a subdued silence settling over them all, just the rasp of whetstones and crackle of fire as they tended to their weapons.

All except Ellac were sleeping when Bleda unrolled his sleeping blanket and lay down upon it. The old warrior was