The Captive Heir

Chapter Nine

Outside their sleeping quarters, people were running and shouting to each other. Elisabet could not tell if the voices were afraid or excited, but her stomach clenched apprehensively. Neither would bode well.

"Get him out of my sight," Marie was ordering someone, her voice angrier than it had ever been.

A deep voice replied. "Marie, you can't seriously believe he's at fault." Was that Alvan? "Neither of us knew there was an outpost there."

Elisabet's eyes popped open and she scrambled out of her hammock. What was going on? An outpost?

"I don't care if Queen Clarissa and a barnful of dragons were there," Marie snapped, infuriated. "This is indefensible."

Fists clenched and hair in wild disarray as though she had just been woken herself, Marie stood facing Alvan and Maggie, who were equally grim-faced and tense. In the shadows of the trees, it looked like a tall man was being pulled away.

"What are you going to do?" the man shouted at her angrily. Fitz? "You going to put me under guard too? We both know you won't challenge me. You can't afford the risk that you'll lose!" It was Fitz.

"I can have you stripped and thrown out like the weakwatered garbage you are!" Marie yelled. She took a furious step forward, ready to follow through on her threat, but Alvan and Maggie held up their hands, cautioning her back.

"Marie, this isn't how we do things here," Alvan said, seeking to recall her to reason.

"You know how we do things," Marie said, turning her wrath on him. "We do what we must, we do what we want, and we don't leave survivors."

What was happening to Fitz? He had left a survivor on their hunt? Had he grown tired of killing the innocent? What was Marie going to do to him?

"Marie, we have three days. Four at most," Maggie said. "Prioritize."

Breathing heavily, Marie paused briefly.

"Survival takes precedence," Alvan said, anxious to convince her. "We move, then you can judge what needs to be done."

The camp was moving? Or were they beginning their campaign already?

After a long minute, Marie nodded. "Pack up," she ordered, clearly fighting to control her temper.

The bandits hesitated, glancing at Elisabet. "What about...?" Alvan said, jerking his chin in her direction.

Marie did not turn to look. "She can drown in the Eskine for all I care," she said, the words a curse on her tongue. "This is her fault."

"Marie." Alvan did not look happy.

The bandit leader did not want to hear anything more. "Go," she ordered them. "You know what to do."

They obeyed, swiftly departing for the camp's interior.

Marie turned her head but did not look directly at Elisabet. "If you value your life," she said, her voice low and dark, "I suggest you make yourself scarce."

Elisabet was quick to take her advice. If Marie was blaming her for something Fitz had done, something offensive enough to provoke such a show of temper, she did not want to be in the line of fire.

The camp was in utter chaos. Bandits raced around with objects, bags, and weapons. Alvan, Maggie, and a few other team leaders were directing them, trying to give some semblance of order to the mayhem.

"Pack those with the food!" Basil shouted at Lyra. "Keep them together."

The bandits were moving camp, then. What a relief they were not trying to mount an attack yet.