Free Shadow's End (Light & Shadow) by Moira Katson Page B

wondered how she could still believe in the rebellion now—now that we had seen what had followed us here. I wondered if I should slip away, leave her to lead the rebellion as she should do, and take myself and my fate away from her. Anyone who betrayed me, now betrayed the cause I held dear. I looked at Miriel’s profile, and could not bring myself to tell her; I held the pain close inside, and walked in silence.
    Jeram always stationed men outside the tavern, men in filthy clothes who looked like sots and drunks, but who could fight as well as any, and sound an alarm. Tonight’s sentries straightened up as they saw us coming, and banded together to block our path, but they did not raise their cudgels. They knew that we had been imprisoned, and we should not be here—but we were not running away. We were coming to them, covered in blood, and they did not know what to do. They stared at us, sidelong, and at each other. I would have hung back, but Miriel only stopped when she was right in front of them, her chin lifted, her jaw set.
    “Come with me,” she ordered. “Come inside. All of you will hear what I have to say.” She was shining so brightly, to me, that I fancied even they could see it. They followed her as if in a daze, trailing in our wake as we strode into the barroom. The men there, shouting to each other about armies and victory, quieted at once when they saw us. I saw shock on Jeram’s face, but I could not have said if it was shock that we had been attacked, or shock that we had survived. He stood to face us.
    “Not a word.” Miriel’s voice cracked across the room like a whiplash. To my surprise, Jeram sat. He did not command his men to kill Miriel as a traitor, nor did he throw his own knife. He only sat, and watched Miriel as she looked around herself, then stepped onto a bench and from there onto one of the tables. The men craned to watch her as she looked around at them, beautiful and disheveled, blood-smeared, furious.
    “Who knew of this?” Miriel demanded. “Who knew there was a man coming to kill us tonight?” The men stared at her, open-mouthed and afraid. I scanned the room, and my heart sank: not one face was cloaked, not a single man was smiling, or frustrated. Aron had not acted alone, he had been sent—but not by anyone here. By whom, then? Miriel did not even seem to care. “Which of you helped him?” She pointed to the Merchant, who was sitting awkwardly in the corner. “Was it you? Aron was your servant.”
    “It was Aron?” The Merchant seemed incredulous. “I told him to guard you, my Lady, no more. I swear it. It could not have been him.”
    “His body is lying in my rooms,” Miriel spat. “Go see for yourself if you do not believe me.” She turned away from his shock and swept her gaze over the men; they hunched their shoulders under her scrutiny. “Is this what we’ve come to, then?” she asked them all. “Assassinations?” She gestured to me. “Gods help us, we thought when we joined the rebellion that we had found truer allies than this.”
    “We did not know—“ Jeram began, and Miriel shot him a furious glare.
    “You didn’t know? Your own men planning to kill one of our number, and you did not know? You’ve interrogated every man in this room, and you did not know that one of them was a murderer?” Jeram’s eyes narrowed, but Miriel was equal to it. She had faced down the Duke in his rages—this man did not frighten her. “This ends now,” she said. “This cowardice, this sneaking around, turning on each other like a pack of dogs. It ends. Now.”
    “And what does that mean?”
    “It means,” Miriel said coldly, “that we are going to help our countrymen. We no longer stand apart. We no longer watch as our kin die at the hands of an invading force. You want to rule this nation?” She looked at the crowd, challenging each of them to meet her eyes. “Do you want that?” Slowly, they began to nod. “Then you defend it. If you think