Page 67 of A Thief to Die For

‘Where is she?’

At Ryland’s voice, my head lifts. What’s he doing here?

Little John shoves past Brother Thomas in the doorframe and Clara leaps off the bed. ‘No, you can’t be in here.’

‘But Ma,’ he cries, ‘I want to see –’

His voice disappears as Clara scoots everyone out but Ryland. The frayed strip of fabric dividing the two rooms falls closed. Ryland looks every bit the elite guard: tall and fierce with weapons strapped all over him. Chiselled face etched with concern.

Despite my initial confusion, I’m hit with an inexplicable wave of relief. His gaze rakes over me. I grow self-conscious. My loose hair is tangled around my face. I’m dirty and my cheeks are tight with dried tears.

‘What happened?’ He comes closer and drops to one knee before me. ‘Are you hurt?’

I fill my lungs and wince as it painfully stretches my back. ‘I …’ My teeth bite my lips closed. Don’t say more. If I’ve learned anything today, it’s that no one is safe if they get involved with me. Ryland especially is too honourable to look the other way.

He leans closer, eyes scouring me. ‘Marian,’ he prompts gently.

Shame crawls over me like an army of beetles, nipping at my skin. Ryland would never have let Soren just beat him. Best him. Control him. ‘I-I …’ My eyes grow hot.

His hand gently cups my arm, but he looks to the door, and I realise: a few words with Brother Thomas and he’ll know everything anyway. ‘I was caught,’ I say. ‘For the raids.’

‘How? What happened?’ His voice carries an authoritative ring.

When I don’t speak right away, he gently pushes a strand of hair out of my face. ‘It’s okay. You’re safe now.’ His hand drifts over my shoulder and the pain from his touch is instant. Searing. I can’t stifle my sharp intake of breath.

He stiffens, then rises to his feet. I count the seconds as he stares at my back. ‘You were whipped?’

‘Yes.’

Very gently, he lifts the fabric from my skin, then rips the back of my guardsman shirt. He curses as it falls open, exposing my wounds. The cool air simultaneously eases and intensifies my pain. I inhale shallow breaths.

‘The Commander did this?’ The hard edge in his voice is harsher now.

‘No. It …’ My distressed thoughts come surging back. There’s an intense need to protect him from the fallout of simply associating with me. The more he knows, the more he’ll get involved. ‘Ryland, I –’

‘Was it Soren?’

My gaze flits to him.

His jaw clenches, and he nods as if I answered him out loud.

‘Please. You can’t confront him. It’s too dangerous.’ My chest becomes unbearably tight as my panic grows.

It hits me that danger isn’t a deterrent for an elite guard. But it’s not until I touch his arm that I realise that my growing distress isn’t only about another altercation with Soren. It’s difficult to admit when I need something. Someone. But right now, what I want most is him. ‘Ryland, I need … please stay with me.’

His shoulders loosen, and he lowers his head. ‘Of course. But I need to understand how this happened.’

I finally relent and explain the events that led to my deal with Soren and ultimately being whipped. He listens intently, eyes flashing with sparks of fury. When I’ve finished, I wait, hoping he’ll have some grand revelation about how to fix this – something that won’t risk a deadly confrontation or expose the people I care about. ‘I have to be smart,’ I say. ‘I need a plan, but it feels like my only option is to continue to bow at Soren’s feet.’

‘That’s not going to happen,’ Ryland promises.

I wish that were true, but he can’t promise that. ‘If I can get Soren his promotion, then maybe he’ll leave me –’

‘You’d never be able to drop your guard. He’ll always have this to hold over you.’

My lungs empty. I know. Soren holds all the cards now.

‘What would happen if you told the Commander that Soren attacked you over a personal vendetta? Leave out the raids. Tell me Atlas wouldn’t flay Soren on the spot.’