Tales of the Vangen: The Dead King of Danic (Book 3)

Chapter 48: Convince Me Otherwise

"I really wish they'd give us back the sharp needles," Grimm huffed as she sat back in her chair, wood squealing in protest against her bulky frame. "I'd have an easier time punching holes in with my pinky nail."

"We've already talked about this, Grimmelda," Emme said. "The guards won't trust us with anything even remotely deemed a weapon after last time. Put it out of your mind, for all our sakes." She tugged at the end of her long, brown braid, like she always did when annoyed. "Nora's especially."

"Look what I made," Nora held up her stitching and beamed, a coil of blue and white flowers coiling around several twisting vines. Her chopped, blonde hair radiated like a halo around her head, giving an almost angelic appearance to the young woman. "They're the flowers from back home. I still remember them. See?"

"That's good," Emme smiled back.. "They look lovely."

"Check mine out!" Saga lifted her boots off the table and sat up, one hand waving a flap of cloth, the other peeling back a curtain of red curls from her eyes.

"Oh that's quite a lovely...umm." Emme chewed at her lower lip as she studied the rudimentary stitching, trying to find the exact word. So far, she was failing miserably.

"A spear! It's a spear!" Saga said.

"Right." Emme snapped her fingers. "A spear. And a lovely one at that."

Saga rolled her eyes. "Oh for Petra's sake. Rook, can you believe this shit?" She slapped Tergrid hard across the shoulder, making her jump. "Not even the mother of the tower herself could tell me what a fine spear I've woven. You're a smart girl, what with all those cunning words you know. It's clearly a spear, right?."

Tergrid glared down at Saga's hand, still resting on her shoulder. "Let go of me before I stab you."

Saga's grin became a sneer. "That's why I like you, Rook. Smart and dangerous."

"Stop calling me Rook!"

Elba crunched into cheese tart, chewed, and studied her new company. An ox, a hen, a mouse, a dog, and an angry, little girl. These five were going to be her comrades in arms, her Tribunes, as Libro liked to describe them, and help her escape the wicked clutches of the Right Hand, known by many as the most terrifying monster in all of Danic, second only to the High King himself.

No problem, Elba thought as she went back to stitching, poking her blunted needle against the cloth, and went nowhere.

She would need to convince them first, and that by far would be the hardest part of the plan. Convincing people to do something they didn't want to was her husband's speciality, not hers. She remembered trying it once, and watching her entire tribe abandon her because of it.

Elba glanced over at Tergrid, who by now was spending the majority of her time slapping away Saga's hand as she repeatedly tried to poke at her. The rebel girl would be easy to convince. Besides Elba, she was the newest addition to this twisted menagerie of motherhood, and hadn't succumbed yet to hopelessness. The others, however, would prove more difficult.

Saga was a wild card, that much was certain. She was just as likely to say yes as cut your throat out if you did so much as look at her funny, but something told Elba that if Tergrid agreed, she might tag along as well, like luring a dog with a steak.

That left the final trio. Elba couldn't get a bead on Grimmelda, shortened to Grim unless it was Emme speaking to her. She was quiet, reserved, her body raked over with old scars. She'd been a soldier once, of that Elba was certain. Women of her stature don't get those kinds of wounds from working the loom or churning butter.

Nora, however, was plain as day. She was terrified of everything and everyone, eyes constantly darting about, ears pricked for any sign of danger. She stood the complete opposite to Grim, no doubt having been one of many scared village girls abducted during a raid and unlucky enough to end up in Kel Dracon.