Free Redemption of Thieves (Book 4) by C.Greenwood Page B

brushed my hand away. “Don’t worry about that. I’ve never felt better.”
    His weakness fell away like an old cloak and he was suddenly moving and speaking with the ease of a healthy man.
    I looked for a grimace of pain or an outpouring of blood but there was none.
    Satisfied he was uninjured, I shoved him back against the prison bars. But not very hard. I remembered too well the heart-rending ache when I’d thought he was dying.
    “What’s wrong with you, priest boy?” I demanded, reverting in my anger to his childhood nickname. “Who plays such a stupid joke at a time like this?”
    “I wasn’t joking,” he protested. “There were things I needed to say and, oddly enough, it’s a lot easier to speak your mind when you’re dying.”
    I hesitated. “Well, are you dying or aren’t you?”
    “I’m not but I knew you couldn’t refuse me if you thought I was.”
    I exploded. “ Refuse you? Why, you sneaking devious—! How dare you pretend you’re—when you’re really—?” Choking on my indignation, I had to stop. It was all I could do not to give him another good slam against the bars.
    He grinned. “Now, now. Don’t forget you gave your word.”
    “I promised to forgive everything that happened before,” I snapped. “But I won’t be tricked into forgetting this so easily.”
    He looked away from me, out the bars of the cage and into the night. I followed his direction and saw the bonfires of the Skeltai in the distance.
    “Sadly, I don’t think you’ll have a very long time to hold the grudge,” Terrac said. “They’re preparing for our deaths even now.”
    I sobered. The orangey glow of the bonfires cast a flickering light over us and the bars of the cage threw long shadows across Terrac’s face. His mouth quirked in an apologetic smile and his violet eyes gleamed beautifully in the half light. It occurred to me suddenly that a man could be forgiven many things when he looked this good.
    The moment was interrupted by a piercing howl in the distance as the Skeltai shamans took up a flesh-crawling chant. I shivered at the reminder of our eminent fate, even as I tried to find in myself some spark of hope or defiance.
    “We should check the entrance,” I suggested.
    “Locked and guarded,” said Terrac.
    “Maybe there’s another way out?”
    “I already checked.”
    He startled me by reached up to run one gloved finger down the bridge of my nose, following the crooked spot where it had been freshly broken. A shiver ran through me at the contact.
    “Its fine,” I said, abruptly pushing his hand away. “It doesn’t hurt anymore.”
    I dabbed self-consciously at the dried blood crusting my upper lip.
    “It shouldn’t be fine,” he said quietly. “You took a hard blow.”
    I had no desire to explain how the Skeltai shaman had tended my injuries or to relate his offer regarding the bow. Suppose Terrac tried to persuade me to accept the offer and spare all our lives? What I had to do was hard enough. I didn’t know if I could hold out against any more pressure.
    Unaware of my thoughts, he took hold of my jaw and turned my head from side to side, studying what must have been a fairly impressive bruise spreading from nose to cheek. His hands were gentle.
    I swallowed. “I said I’m alright. Could you not do that please?”
    I moved to pull away and was surprised when he didn’t let me go. My eyes went to his.
    I heard a soft snicker from one of the Fists in the background. I had all but forgotten their presence. My cheeks burned but I supposed it was good that the men could still laugh at something. It showed they hadn’t given up altogether.
    Terrac snapped at the offender, “Could we have a little privacy please?”
    The Fist looked abashed but one of his companions chipped in cheekily, “We’d be glad to grant you some alone time, sir, but unfortunately the savages have locked us in.”
    “Then let’s be looking for a way out,” I said and scrambled to my feet, trying to