Blood of Wonderland (Queen of Hearts Saga #2)(30)
He left the tent without another word. Dinah stewed for a few minutes in the bright white light of the tent. He had led her here. But why? To provide the Yurkei with the revenge they so desired? To ransom her off to the king, who would then kill her? No matter how many situations she came up with, not a single one of them made any sense. The Spade had saved her, protected her, taught her to fight. One did not give one’s enemy a sword and instruct the arm to wield it.
Finally, with a cry of pain and a stream of curses that would make the Spade proud, Dinah sat up and pulled a tunic over her head. She ducked out of the tent to find Ki-ershan waiting for her. He nodded his head toward a dirt path that ran behind her tent. “Thank you,” she whispered. He smiled back at her. Ki-ershan was definitely her favorite of the two guards. He followed behind as Dinah proceeded to walk slowly down the path until she arrived at a tiny freshwater stream that ran the length of the valley. Her wound still pulsed with pain, but it was nothing compared to the pain she remembered from the wooden knife. Sir Gorrann waited for her at a bend in the trail, and they walked together in silence toward the bank.
She stopped at the stream and stared into the water. It was small, barely ten feet across, but it gurgled and danced in the morning sun, its water so clear that it was almost like looking in a mirror. Dinah had thought she had no embarrassment left after being paraded through the valley in her bright red tunic and then forced to climb the ladder into the sky, but she had been wrong. In the shiny blue stream, there were hundreds of Yurkei bathing, playing, and washing clothing. The women all bathed naked, their perfect lean bodies glistening in the sun. Dinah saw Sir Gorrann glance away, a red flush rising in his cheeks. Dinah slowly undressed herself, trying to cover all that she could with her tunic before lowering herself quickly into the icy water with a wince as it converged on her wound. All eyes watched her as she came up, no doubt disgusted at this pale, bruised creature with black hair and the darkest eyes they had ever seen. The intense cold took her breath away and she immediately started shivering. Sir Gorrann climbed in after her, struggling to cover himself as well, giving his own gasp at the cold water. He dunked his head and then emerged, shaking the water out of his gray hair. He then began to scrub her wound with fervor. The moment was anything but intimate, as they were both freezing and working as quickly as possible.
Sir Gorrann raised his voice. “Yer wound . . . it’s almost healed. I’ve never seen anything like it.” Indeed, her wound was closing nicely after two days of rest, and whatever healing paste had been put on it had sealed it shut. Her shoulder had a constant ache, and when she raised her arms there was a thin slice of pain. Mundoo had left her a scar, a remembrance of him. Dinah watched as the clean water around her became cloudy with the dirt and muck scrubbed from her skin. There was something in the gentle way the Spade touched her shoulder, something that made Dinah realize that even though he had led them into the mouth of the Yurkei, she deeply trusted him. He would never hurt her. She knew it instinctively, the same way she knew the stars would change each night. Sir Gorrann cursed the chief as he scrubbed at the scabbed wound.
“He believed yeh deserved this, no doubt, but it didn’t have to be so deep. What with the coming battles . . . ?”
“Why should it matter?” replied Dinah. “There are plenty of people here who would like to see my head on a stake, sooner rather than later.”
“The Yurkei don’t behead,” said Sir Gorrann calmly as he dunked his head again under the stream. “They drop their prisoners from the wings of the cranes onto the stones below.” He stopped, suddenly aware of what that image would do to Dinah. “I’m sorry, Yer Highness. I forgot.”
She spread her fingers in the water, seeing Charles on the stone slab. “Don’t be sorry. It would be fitting to die like my brother.” Dinah was suddenly aware that the noisy stream had grown very silent. The Yurkei women were climbing naked out of the water and gathering up their children with whispered words of compliance. The children struggled, unhappy to have their playtime cut short, but the women carried them away. Noting the sudden exodus of bathers, Dinah felt compelled to grab for her red tunic, pulling it into the water and wriggling into it like a fish. Within seconds, Dinah and Sir Gorrann were the only ones left in the stream. Dinah heard the crunch of branches behind her and turned, her arms wrapped tightly across her chest, her heart thudding beneath them.
Two huge feet stood before her on the bank—gnarled, gross feet—slabs of meat marked with calluses and scars. They led up to the tallest man Dinah had ever seen. It was strange seeing someone with a similar skin tone to hers here, in the depths of Yurkei country. His hair was a honeyed brown rather than white, though it was long and cut in the Yurkei manner. It came to a downward point on his forehead, his eyes a dull green. A jagged scar ran from his chin up past his cheek, mingling with the white stripes of paint that trailed from just under his eye to his shins. He wore only a feather loincloth. Thighs and arms like tree trunks stretched out from his rigid torso. He would dwarf even her father. In one hand he clutched an elaborately curved bow and arrow. In the other was a Heartsword.
Dinah’s stomach gave a lurch when she saw the sunlight flicker off the double-sided blade. Only her father and the highest-ranking Cards carried Heartswords. She stared in wonder, her arms pressed tightly over her chest. The man glowered at them before throwing his weapons on the bank. Without warning, he reached down and plucked Dinah straight out of the water by clasping both of her arms at her side and lifting, as easily as if he had picked up a rag doll. Something felt as if it was ripping inside her shoulder. She struggled, but it was no use. His grip was as strong as iron. Her feet dangled above the ground. Sir Gorrann rushed to climb out of the stream, his eyes on the man.