The Claimed: Rashika's Resistance

Chapter 21: The Mercenary

Though I did not remember moving, the tip of my sword pressed against the mercenary's neck just below the brown curls on his jaw. My heartbeat pounded in my ears, my lungs expanded and expelled air in violent gusts, and my arm shook.

His eyes widened to circles interrupted by curling fur. "What are you —"

I hissed the words through gritted teeth. "You killed my mother."

His mouth snapped shut fast enough the wooden teeth clacked, and his gaze flicked over my shoulder to the silent group behind me. "What is this? I didn't come here to be attacked. Don't you think you should control this mad woman?"

Izra responded from behind me, voice soft. "No. I think she deserves the truth."

He released a laugh and rolled his eyes skyward. "Look, I don't know who your mother is, but you all are mistaken. I haven't killed anyone in many years."

I shifted my grip on the sword but did not lower it. "How many years? Twenty, perhaps?"

He froze, eyes locking on mine. Then his chest deflated with a ragged sigh.

"You look just like her."

I had imagined this moment so many times, fantasies stained glorious red. I had imagined terror flooding his eyes, his scream breaking into a gurgling gasp as my sword plunged through his gut. This was all wrong. This was not how the meeting was supposed to happen.

I swallowed twice before croaking a reply. "Why? Why did you do it?"

His shoulders lifted in a lopsided, uncomfortable shrug. "I'm a mercenary. I do what I'm paid to do."

"Paid by who? Who paid you?"

He furrowed his brows. "You really don't know, do you?"

Trepidation spilled poison through my veins. "Who?" I repeated, but before he even opened his mouth, I knew what he would say.

"Your King paid us to do it. King Makapu."

The words rang tinny in my ears, and a fuzzy memory overlaid reality. The handsome warrior with the twinkling smile kneeling at my bedside... my hero. Darkness drenched the world around me like ink, my knees weakened, and my body swayed.

Then a hand slid into my free one, warm fingers squeezing. In a sea of dark, Izra's eyes shone bright. I squeezed back — hard, as though to pass on the weight of my burden through my grip. Her hand held fast.

I turned back to Snuggles. "Why? Why would the King do that to his own people?"

"I don't know. Never bothered to ask. The money was good enough to keep us quiet."

"And good enough to justify murder?"

Snuggles blew out a sigh, rippling the fur around his lips. "The Trogolese mercenaries don't kill anymore. We even refused the King's latest request a few days ago."

Izra edged one step toward Snuggles, still holding my hand tight. "The King made another request? What did he want?"

"He asked us to sail up the Barzatuk River into Busk and attack a few independent tribes. We were supposed to capture a couple hundred Lesser God worshippers for Rakim to sell to Kulas and Kalasiki as slaves."

A gasp passed over the group behind me, but I found myself unable to breathe at all. My chest burned with rage. Angry I had taken so long to see the truth. Angry at the monster who had destroyed my life with a smile. Angry even at the night's tranquility, stars twinkling above, gentle waves lapping the boat, wet breeze sifting through my tunic.