“This rain,” he answered.

We lashed the horses to timbers in the semishelter of ruin and trees. I wiped the rain from my eyes to see what I was doing. “Go inside with the others!” Kaden yelled over the roar of wind and the deafening thrash of forest. “I’ll unsaddle the horses and bring your gear!”

The cracks of thunder chattered through my teeth. We were already drenched. I turned to follow the others into the dark ruin tucked close to the mountain. The wind tore at my hair, and I had to hold it back to find my way. Rain fell through most of the structure, but lightning lit the bony skeleton and revealed a few dry corners and nooks. Griz was already trying to start a fire in one of the stony alcoves on the far side of the cavern. Finch and Eben took up residence in another one. It was once an enormous dwelling, a temple, as my brothers and I would have called it, but it didn’t feel holy tonight.

“This way,” Malich said, and pulled me beneath a low overhang of stone. “It’s dry here.”

Yes, it was dry, but it was also very dark and very cramped. He didn’t let go of my arm. Instead, his hand slid from my arm up to my shoulder. I tried to step back out into the rain, but he grabbed my hair.

“Stay,” he said and yanked me back. “You’re not a princess anymore. You’re a prisoner. Remember that.” His other hand reached out and slid across my ribs.

My blood went cold, and my breath grew shallow. I was either going to lose a chunk of my scalp, or he was going to lose a chunk of his manhood. I preferred the latter. My fingers tensed, ready to maim, but Kaden walked in and called out, looking for me. Malich immediately released me.

“Over here,” I called back.

Griz’s fire on the far side of the cavern caught and lit the ghostly interior. Kaden saw us in the dark niche. He walked over and handed me my saddlebag.

“She can sleep in here with me tonight,” Malich said.

Kaden looked at him, a golden line of light illuminating his cheekbone and dripping hair. The vein at his temple was raised. “No,” he said simply.

There was a long silent moment. Kaden didn’t blink. Though he was of equal size and strength to Kaden, Malich seemed to have a reverence if not fear of him. Were assassins higher in the pecking order of barbarians, or was it something else?

“Suit yourself,” Malich said and pushed me toward Kaden. I stumbled into his chest, tripping over rubble. Kaden caught me and lifted me back to my feet.

He found another dry niche far from the others and kicked away some rock to make a place to lay down. He dropped the bedrolls and his bag. There would be no dinner tonight. The weather made it impossible to gather or hunt. I took another swig of water to quell the rumble in my stomach. I could easily have eaten one of the horses.

With his back to me, Kaden unbuttoned his soaked shirt and pulled it off, hanging it from an outcropping of stone to dry. I stared at his back. Even in the dim firelight, I could see the marks across it. Multiple long scars that stretched from his shoulder blades to his lower back. He turned and saw me staring. I drew in a breath. His chest had more, long slashes that traveled crosswise down to his ribs.

“I guess you had to see sooner or later,” he said.

I swallowed. I remembered how he refused to take his shirt off at the games. Now I understood why.

“Some of your victims fought back?”

“On my back? Hardly. Don’t worry, these scars are old and long healed.” He laid out the bedrolls and motioned to the space beside him, waiting for me to lie down. I moved forward awkwardly and lay as close to the wall as possible.

I heard him stretch out next to me and felt his eyes on my back. I turned to face him. “If you didn’t get the scars from your work, how did you come by them?”

He was propped up on one elbow, and his other hand absently stroked the lines on his ribs. His eyes were unsettled as if he was recalling each lash, but his face remained calm, well practiced at burying his secrets. “It was a long time ago. It doesn’t matter anymore. Go to sleep, Lia.” He rolled to his back and closed his eyes. I stared at his chest and watched it rise in slow careful breaths.

It mattered.

Two hours later, I was still awake, thinking about Kaden and the violent life he led, more violent than I even knew. The scars frightened me. Not their appearance but where they had come from. He said they were old and long healed. How old could they be? He was only a couple of years older than I was. I wondered if Eben had scars beneath his shirt too. What did the Vendans do to their children? What would they do to me?

For the first time in what seemed an eternity, I was chilled. My clothes were soaked to the skin, but I had nothing else to put on. The hard ride from Civica to Terravin had been luxurious compared to this. The thunder continued to boom, but Kaden slept soundly, oblivious to the noise. He hadn’t shackled me at night since we left the Dark City, probably figuring my cut and bruised feet were enough to keep me from traveling far. That had been true—at first. They were mostly healed now, but I made sure I continued to limp generously enough to make him think otherwise.

The wind and rain still raged loud and furious, and the thunder vibrated through me. It was all so deafening it easily masked the roar of Griz’s snores. I rolled over and eyed the saddlebag lying at Kaden’s feet. My pulse sped. My knife was still in there. I would need it. The mad beating of rain could mask a lot more than snores.

My chest rose in faster breaths as I sat up slowly. With the forest around us, there were places to hide now, but could I ride an unsaddled skittish horse in a furious storm? Just trying to get up on its back without stirrups would be a challenge if I could manage it at all. But if I could lead one of them to a downed log …