Free The Bloodsworn by Erin Lindsey Page B

waves of green. In the heightened senses of the moment, Alix felt the soft brush of wheat against the back of her wrist, gentle as a lover. “All right,” she said. “I’m going to lower my sword now.” What choice did they have?
    They laid their weapons in the long grasses with exaggerated care—none more so than Ide, who bent low enough that her short-cropped hair disappeared behind the stalks of wheat.
    â€œHurry up,” the soldier snarled.
    They were the last words he ever spoke. Ide shot up out of the grass like a snake, bow in hand, loosing a shaft before the soldier could react. He pitched backward off his saddle. Theremaining Oridian tried to run, but Ide took him down before he got far.
    Alix nearly doubled over in relief. “Thank the gods. I had no idea your bow was right at your feet!”
    â€œGood bloody thing too, and that the wheat was high enough to hide it.” She whirled on Vel, who sat in the grass looking dazed. “You almost got us killed, priestess! Why didn’t you take cover? Instead you just stand there like a startled rabbit?”
    Alix had never seen her so livid. Neither, apparently, had Dain. “Ide—” he began.
    â€œNo, don’t defend her! It’s common sense, isn’t it?”
    Alix knew she should intervene, but in truth she agreed.
    â€œYou think maybe there’s a
reason
I chop off my hair,” Ide went on, “or that Alix keeps hers in a braid? Nothing stupider in battle than giving the enemy something to grab on to.”
    â€œI’m not a soldier,” Vel said.
    That much is obvious.
Alix retrieved her bloodblade, threw it into its sheath. “We need to move on.”
    Vel drew herself up on shaking legs. “I must pray for the dead.”
    Alix’s mouth fell open. Ide launched into a string of curses. Even Dain looked taken aback.
    â€œI am not a soldier,” Vel repeated, ice crystals forming on the words. “I am a
priestess
. Leave me behind if you will, but I must do my duty.”
    Alix pressed her lips together, exchanging a dark look with the Wolves. Turning her back on Vel, she approached the nearest horse and gave it a whack on the rump, sending it loping off into the wheat. Though she would have loved to keep it for a pack animal, it would only draw more soldiers down upon them. “Make it quick,” she shot over her shoulder. “We’ve lingered here too long.”

S IX

    T he Resistance found them the following day. Or rather, that was when Wraith’s men chose to reveal themselves. From the way they appeared—in numbers, two groups in a flanking manoeuvre, materialising from behind cover with bows drawn—Alix guessed they’d been following for a while.
    â€œDrop your weapons.”
    Alix couldn’t tell which of them had spoken; like her own party, they all wore hoods pulled low over their faces. She hesitated, every instinct screaming of threat. Then she felt the cool kiss of steel under her jaw.
    â€œDon’t make me repeat myself,” said the voice, right in her ear.
    Alix went rigid. No one had ever managed to sneak up on her like that.
    â€œGetting a bit tired of being told to drop my steel,” Ide growled. “Be nice to go more than a day without stumbling across the enemy.”
    â€œDon’t be a fool,” said Vel. “These aren’t Oridians. Can’t you hear his accent?”
    â€œAccents can be faked.”
    â€œNot by me,” said the man with the sword, a trace ofamusement in his voice. “At least not while I’m sober.” Alix felt a tug as her hood was yanked back. “Well now, there’s a lovely head of hair. Goes with the jewel on your lovely sword, which I’ll thank you to put down.”
    Alix had little choice but to comply, tossing her bloodblade a few feet in front of her.
    â€œAnd the dagger,” the man said, helping himself to the knife sheathed at her hip.