To Bind in Blood

Chapter 24

Wrell nudged her horse around with her leg, receiving a flick of the ears and a tight turn in response. The target came into view, clear in her vision. She loosened her seat, moving with the motion of each stride, and pulled the bowstring back until her hand rested against her cheek. The arrow she released flew true, landing just slightly to the right of the target's center.

A cheer went up, signaling her and Audred Nirsan's victory of the round. Wrell lowered the bow and sat back in the saddle, her horse's steps slowing. They came to a stop next to the start line, her horse letting out a snort and a sneeze at the ride's completion. She slid off and gave the gelding a firm, affectionate pat. He was no Resi, but he was a fine mount and trained well by Quelle's horsemasters. Quellens took pride in their horses-almost as much as they took pride in their bloodbinds.

A groom appeared at Wrell's elbow. She handed the horse off to the young man and found Nirsan with Eira and the empress as they were sliding out of their saddles. Eira had been the one to pressure them into competing in the team mounted archery event, even offering to be the empress's partner. Wrell wondered if Eira had done it just to annoy the empress or if it was a genuine effort to create some sort of peace between them.

"Well done," Eira said with a friendly pat to Nirsan's shoulder and a squeeze to Wrell's. "You did well together. Made the rest of us look bad." She flashed a good-natured grin. "Especially me. Quelle's Lady General, who can barely shoot a bow."

Nirsan bowed her head. "We both served in the cavalry's archery division, my lady. Mounted archery becomes second nature."

"It seems the empress and I should have taken a turn with the mounted archers, then." Eira glanced at the empress who was adjusting the dangling stirrups while a groom waited to take her horse. There was barely veiled irritation in the Lady General's look. Eira was competitive and had little patience for people she did not like-Wrell knew enough to say that.

Nadeina joined them, prompting Eira to straighten and chirp, "You did well, empress. Had Wrell and Nirsan not landed those impossible shots, we would have won that round."

The empress raised an eyebrow that contained just a hint of skepticism. "Undoubtedly. Though I have always preferred swordsmanship to archery." It was not surprising that she was unfazed by the current of dislike that ran between her and Eira. People hating her was probably nothing new.

"Then at least we can relate in that, empress. I suppose it was my fault for suggesting we compete in the first place."

They handed off their horses to the grooms and started to trudge through the snow back to where Jurion and the others waited. Wrell kept to the rear, keeping a close eye on Eira and the empress, while Nirsan took up the front.

Suddenly someone stepped in front of Wrell, halting her steady strides and making her brace for a threat. Her hand went to her side for her sword while she took in the figure that blocked her path. Well-made boots, simply-embroidered tunic of deep purple, fur-lined robe swept over an elegant form-Wrell relaxed. A lesser lady, perhaps. Then she looked into the woman's face, and her heart constricted.

It was a familiar face. A face that had appeared in her mind countless times, even if only for a moment, in the past few years. "M-Lady Killas." Wrell bowed, the lady reaching out to hold her elbow. She had not seen the woman she had once dared to call Mother in years. Not since before her scarring. Before the cavalry.

"Wrell." That gentle voice washed over Wrell like the warmth of a fire.

It took her a moment to find the words. "You are well, I hope?"

"I am. And you? It has been a long time, but you are just as skilled with a bow and a horse as I remember."

"It is not a skill easily forgotten." Her voice trembled a bit, as much as she tried not to let it.

"Many things are not easily forgotten." The lady paused, her hand still gripping Wrell's elbow. Her eyes ran over Wrell's face, taking in the scars, but there was no judgment or disgust or fear there. Still, Wrell wanted to hide her face, to remove the evidence of their painful pasts.

"Oh, how I have missed seeing you, sweet girl. I am sorry I could not have done more. That I could not stop him." Lady Killas brought her other hand up, placing it on Wrell's leather-clad arm. Her scent wrapped around them, reminding Wrell of the days they had spent together, the lunches and laughter they'd shared after the daily lessons the lady taught and the lessons Wrell endured.

"It was not your fault, my lady. Some things cannot be helped."

"But they could have." There was almost a haunted look in the lady's eyes. "I could have."

"Darling."

Wrell pulled away at the sound of that voice, bowing her head and looking away from the man who approached. She had not expected to encounter Lady Killas, but while meeting her was a pleasant if not painful surprise, she would do anything to avoid the man who had cast her out of his home and family as if she had never been a part of it. Had she ever been a part of it?

"Husband." Lady Killas's reply was calm.

The lesser lord did not even acknowledge Wrell-which she fully expected, but that did not make it hurt any less. "Do you mean to expose us to public speculation? I thought I had told you before . . ."

With one last look at Lady Killas, Wrell began to back away, willing her feet not to trip over themselves or the snow beneath them. The mountains loomed in the background, jagged and covered in snow, their heights making her head spin. The lord and lady were still arguing when she turned her back to them. She quickened her steps and wove through the crowd, seeking out the Great Lord and his party. She should be attending to her master, though he had released her to compete in the archery event.

She risked a glance back at the people whom she had once called family, her throat tightening with an emotion she refused to let others see. Lady Killas was looking at her, stricken, as her husband continued his lecture. Wrell hardened her expression and faced forward. She would leave them in the past, just as she had left everything else. Yet . . . the past had a funny way of creeping up on her, asserting itself where she wanted it least. But she would do her best to let it lie.