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  He set me aside and stood, tugging on the leash until I got to my feet.

  I didn’t like how calm he was, how almost…casual. Somehow, that was more frightening than if he’d been livid.

  “May I check in on Steel before we go, Master?”

  “Of course.” He nodded toward the furs where Steel lay.

  Before I could go to Steel, Doc walked in and nodded to each of us.

  “Morning, General. Setora.”

  The reassurance in Doc’s eyes, in his voice, drew me in. I latched onto it like a lifeline, as if it could save me from the wrath I knew Sheriff wanted to unleash on me.

  “Take her leash, Doc. She has five minutes. I’ll send someone in to get her. I want her eating at the campfire with rest of us. She has duties to perform.”

  Duties? A low, quiet ache started in my core at the thought of what duties he might have in mind.

  Doc took the leash, putting the loop at his end around his wrist, and Sheriff strode out. I hated the way my muscles unclenched as soon as he was gone, especially when not all of the tension was from fear.

  “How are you feeling, Setora? Have you had enough sleep?”

  “Yes, sir. That tea you gave me last night, what did you call it...?”

  “Skera root. Laced with rohan bud to make a sleeping draught.”

  “Well, it made me sleep like a baby. I didn’t even have the ni—”

  When I cut off, Doc cocked his head, waiting. My cheeks grew hot. I’d stopped myself before I could mention the dreams. Not just the one about Steel, but the ones about that burning sun, the strange language, and someone’s hand choking me. Someone who I’d known, even in the dream, wasn’t Hawk. Why I didn’t want to tell the others about those yet, I didn’t know, but the idea of telling them filled me with bone-deep dread.

  “I didn’t even dream,” I finished.

  Doc nodded. “Rohan brings a deep, deep sleep. I knew you’d tear yourself to pieces worrying about Steel, and after the last two days you’ve had, I wanted you to have a full eight hours of undisturbed rest.”

  Eight hours. It felt like I’d slept twelve. For the first time, I looked outside. Darkness lay over the forest, illuminated by the campfire a little more than ten feet outside the tree hollow.

  “What time is it, Doc?”

  He glanced outside. “Close to ten, I think.”

  Ten. It felt earlier. It had still been dark when I’d come in to see Steel last night. A full day had passed while I’d slept.

  Outside, the men sat on logs around the fire, talking. The men I could have easily lost. The men who fought to save me, to save Emmy, not to mention Utar’s people.

  I didn’t deserve them.

  Turning my attention to Steel, I followed Doc to his side. I looked him over, and my heart nearly shattered. Both of his eyes were bruised, nearly charcoal black. His knuckles on one hand were cut, where he hadn’t been wearing that metal glove he’d chosen in Saketh’s fighting ring.

  From the moment I’d met Steel, he’d seemed unbreakable, huge and immoveable as a wall, not unlike his namesake. In spite of his enormous size and bone-crushing strength, there’d always been an easy-going air about him, a laid-back feel that, once I’d seen past his gruffness, made me feel grounded and safe. He’d seemed like a man nothing could harm. To see him like this now, out cold and so vulnerable, nearly undid me.

  My throat tightened. I shoved down my guilt and made myself focus on Doc, on Steel’s prognosis.

  “How is he, sir?” I asked, taking my big master’s giant hand. His palm, slack in sleep, easily dwarfed mine.

  Doc looked him over, feeling for his pulse, checking his heart, looking into his eyes before answering.

  “He’s improved since we brought him in here. His breathing isn’t as labored as it was last night. I checked on him a little while ago, and his pulse wasn’t as thready, either. He’s still got a little yellow in the eyes. As I told the General last night, he doesn’t have a head injury, or any other serious injuries, so I can’t figure out why he’s unconscious. Thought it might be dehydration or mal-nutrition, but I’ve kept him hydrated with saline solution, and last night I fed him intravenously. If it was either of those, he’d be awake now. Like I told Sheriff, he shouldn’t be like this.”

  “Will he be… Wait. His eyes are yellow? You mean like Hawk’s?”

  “No. I mean the whites of his eyes are yellow. Just the whites.”

  “May I see?” It took effort to keep the worry out of my voice.

  Doc opened Steel’s eyes one at a time, while I peered into them, taking in the yellow tint in each of his whites. The blood left my face as the memory of the dream filled my thoughts. He didn’t look nearly as bad as he had in the dream, but I didn’t like the similarity.

  Again, I nearly told Doc about the nightmare, but that inexplicable dread kept the words back. Besides, there was nothing in the dreams that could have helped Steel. Instead, I kept my head down, eyes on Steel to hide my reaction and squeezed his hand.

  My love, I’m so sorry.

  “Setora,” Doc said gently, touching my shoulder until I looked up at him. “He’ll be all right, I feel it in my gut. You’ll see. I’ll take care of him.”

  I nodded mutely.

  “Doc.” T-Man’s voice, at the entrance to the tree. “I’m here to collect the slave.” His lips twitched. “Sheriff wants her out there with the others.”

  “Go,” Doc said when I hesitated. “I’ll let you know the minute there’s any change.”

  Everything in me wanted to stay by Steel’s side, but I knew I couldn’t, and not just because Sheriff wanted me elsewhere. Steel would be fine, Doc would see to it, and besides, the others needed me, too.

  I left the hollow and headed for the campfire where Sheriff and the others waited, but for a long time, my mind was still with Steel.

  * * *

  T-Man led me toward the fire, lighting the pipe between his teeth as we went. As always, the smell of the tobacco he smoked wasn’t unpleasant, and I inhaled the slightly sweet, woodsy scent, letting it soothe me.

  At the fire, Sheriff and Hawk were seated on logs, talking with someone as they ate. Utar’s men and women sat with them, eating from bowls of stew Crash had made. Crash sat with his splinted leg straight out in front of him, the leg looking better than it had yesterday. Diamond and Emmy handed out the bowls of stew, allowing him to stay off the leg.

  When I saw Utar’s people talking and laughing with the Legion, I couldn’t help smiling. When we’d found them last night, they’d been stripped naked and stuffed into cages, many of them bruised, unkempt and showing signs of torture. Torture they’d suffered in the months they’d been held captive by Saketh and his men. I knew several of Utar’s people were in the infirmaries they’d set up when we’d arrived here, but the ones who were seated around the fire looked much better.

  I looked closer at the man Sheriff was talking to, recognizing his deep voice, those silver eyes that looked so much like Doc’s when they met mine for an instant. Utar, the man I’d released from his cage.

  Utar’s long, matted beard had been shaved off, leaving his handsome, chiseled face visible, his dark, curly tangled hair now cropped close to the scalp. The rest of his men had been given similar treatment. All of the men and women, Utar included, were dressed in Dreg clothing. The brown or black leathers, many with steel plating or the bones of one animal or another sewn on, looked out of place and too menacing on men who obviously weren’t Dregs. I imagined looking like a vicious marauder was preferable to wearing burlap sacks or being naked.

  Looking at Utar’s people, an upsurge of affection for my men, and the Legion as a whole, hit me. Sheriff and his crew were risking their lives keeping the Rebels with us and protecting them. If I hadn’t known better, I’d have wondered how anyone could be afraid of them or see them as heartless pirates.

  I was going to ask T-Man where Pretty Boy was, since I didn’t see him there, but I didn’t get the chance.

>   “Setora.” Utar gave me a smile. “How are you?” Utar’s voice was almost casual, but there was no mistaking the respect in it.

  Beside him, Marna, the woman with red hair that reminded me of Cherry, took her hand from his and straightened, inclining her head when she saw me. I hoped to the Maker the almost-bow was just a personality quirk.

  I cleared my throat, my face burning. It burned hotter when I saw the sardonic look Sheriff wore, taking in the reverent way Utar’s people looked at me.

  “I’m fine, sir. And how are both of you?” I nodded to Marna, including her.

  “Better now, thanks to you,” Marna said, speaking for both of them. Utar nodded, doing nothing to stop her.

  Thanks to me. Oh Light. Sheriff already hated that I’d gone against him. The last thing I needed now was the leader of the Lone Rebels adding hero status because of it.

  Hawk sat up straighter, looking at me, his gaze calculating, almost fascinated. At least he didn’t look irritated. Sheriff, on the other hand, shook his head in aggravation.

  T-Man led me over to Sheriff. “Your slave, General.” Again with my new title. He gave a pointed look at Utar, letting me know he’d called me slave for their benefit. To remind them I wasn’t worthy of reverence?

  Sheriff slipped the loop at the end of the leash around his fist while T-Man took a seat. Painfully aware of Utar and Marna’s eyes on me, I turned to sit on the log between Sheriff and Hawk, but Sheriff tugged on the leash.

  “No. Sit here. On the ground, at my feet. After you refill our bowls.”

  Humiliation set my cheeks on fire as I took his and Hawk’s bowls from him. Especially when Marna’s eyes widened. I looked at Sheriff, imploring. His expression was unmoved.

  “From now until we reach our destination, you will behave as follows. Whatever my men need—food, drink, their boots polished—you and you alone will provide. This leash will tether you to one of us at all times, and you will sit only at the feet of one of your masters. You insist on forgetting your place; we will ensure you don’t.”

  Mortification grew heavy on my chest. I wanted to argue, wanted to feel angry, but my guilt over my actions left no place for that. A shocking sense of rightness settled on me, and I didn’t think it was only because I wanted to make good with my masters again.

  I made myself lower my eyes, fighting the urge to look around at Utar and his men, the women whom I could somehow feel had turned their eyes away from me.

  Some hero I made.

  When I didn’t move right away, Sheriff took my chin between his fingers, a master’s grip. “Tell me why we’re doing this, slave.”

  I sighed shakily. “Because I…” The words halted, trapped in my throat. I hadn’t felt this uncomfortable with my role since I’d first been taken by the Dark Legion.

  Some inexplicable force made me glance over at Hawk. What was I looking for? Whatever it was, I didn’t find it. There was no accusation in his eyes, no anger or smugness, but his nod instructed me to do as his general said.

  “Actions have consequences, Kitten.” His low, baritone voice washed over me, deepening the sense of rightness in this situation. “You made your choice. Now you must face those consequences.”

  I made myself face Sheriff. “Because I disobeyed you, Master.”

  I didn’t elaborate, couldn’t bring myself to add that my actions had nearly got everyone killed. The notion crushed my heart in a tight fist.

  Sheriff nodded, satisfied, and inclined his head toward the stew pot over the fire.

  I stood, my knees weakened with humiliation, took the bowls and filled them. “Would you like rolls, too, Masters?” My voice shook.

  “Please.” Hawk.

  “With butter,” Sheriff added, as I turned to hand him the bowl and a crusty roll.

  Marna cleared her throat uncomfortably.

  I hated the idea of being put on a pedestal, but I hated the idea of making these people uncomfortable even more.

  Taking a knife, I hacked the roll in two, then scraped the knife through the small tub of butter that had been kept in a cooler. I spread some on Sheriff’s roll, then on Hawk’s when he confirmed he wanted the same.

  Silent, I handed Hawk and Sheriff their food and was about to kneel in front of Sheriff.

  “What, no drink?” Sheriff said. I stared at him, and his eyes danced.

  “I’ll get it,” Emmy said, standing up and headed over to collect his and Hawk’s mugs.

  “No, you won’t.” Sheriff nodded to the place on the log she’d vacated.

  She widened her eyes at his cool tone.

  “Sit. Down.”

  “Yes, sir.” Face red, Emmy seated herself.

  Sheriff addressed the Legion members. “This is her penance. Six days, she will pay it alone. No one is to help her. Am I clear?”

  Emmy opened her mouth like she wanted to argue but looked away. “Yes, sir.”

  “Yes, sir,” Diamond added as Doc came out of Steel’s hollow. He seated himself on a log and smoothly pulled her onto his lap.

  When Sheriff and Hawk had full mugs of moonshine, Sheriff had me pour the same for T-Man, Crash, and Doc. The leash was long enough to allow me to move about the fire serving dishes up. When I was done, Sheriff pulled the leash in, and I seated myself at his feet again.

  I looked up at him, waiting.

  “Good girl. Now you may get yourself something.”

  I hated how right it felt having him give me permission to eat. Hated feeling the eyes of the Rebels on me.

  I served myself food and a mug of water, and again, took up position at my master’s feet. Sheriff wound the leash around his fist, leaving only enough slack for me to sit comfortably.

  As soon as I was sitting between his knees, he pulled me close so that my back was to him, one hand resting heavily on my shoulder. It bothered me how comforting that grip felt, like it grounded me.

  “Ohh. Food.” Pretty Boy’s voice rang out before he hopped over an empty spot on the log beside Hawk. Seeming to realize who he’d be sitting beside, he walked over and sat beside T-Man.

  Clearly all that had happened to us last night hadn’t done away with his anger toward Hawk. Would they ever make up?

  Hawk didn’t react to him. Pretty Boy took in my position at Sheriff’s feet, and his face split into a knowing grin. “So it’s on then.” He rubbed his hands together. “I’m hungry, Princess. Where’s my food?”

  Sheriff unwound enough of the slack on the leash to allow me to go to Pretty Boy. I suppressed a sigh and went over, took his bowl and mug, filling both. Pretty Boy talked while I worked.

  “I scouted the area, General. There’s no one anywhere near here for over half a mile out.”

  Sheriff nodded. “Still, I want two people guarding the perimeter at all times.”

  “We’ll take care of that, General,” Utar promised. “Two of Striker’s men are on watch, four-hour shifts.”

  When I handed Pretty Boy his food, he set it down at his feet, grabbed my nape, and pulled me in. “Come here, you.” His mouth crushed mine. His tongue tasted of moonshine, and the warmth of it made my head swim. He didn’t seem drunk now, but I had the feeling he recently had been. The kiss went all the way to my toes, his hard grip on my nape making my stomach flutter, empathy for his pain threatening to douse my irritation with him.

  When he broke the kiss, I pulled back and looked at him. He touched my nose with the tip of his finger, but I didn’t miss the worry in his pale blue eyes. Worry for Steel, I knew.

  Pretty Boy always hid his pain behind that wild, carefree air. I touched the side of his face, trying to reassure him. His eyes held no blame, and that only made me feel worse.

  He squeezed my hand. “Go back to the General for now. We’ll talk later, Princess.”

  Unable to read the inflection in his voice, I swallowed. Did he blame me for the near-loss of his best friend after all?

  Heart heavy, I found my way back to Sheriff, sitting with my back against him once again. N
ow that I was done serving my masters, Sheriff wound the leash around his fist again.

  Marna watched the interplay between us while I ate. She muttered something that sounded like a swearword and huffed, got up and marched away toward a tree I assumed was where she slept.

  “Marna, wait. Where are you going?” Utar reached for her, but she ignored him. He sighed, shaking his head at Sheriff. His eyes shone with love for her. “You must forgive her, General. Four months of captivity have been especially hard on her. Saketh was harder on her than most because she shares my bed.”

  “I understand, Utar. It sickens me, what they put you through. All of you.” His glance around the camp included all the former captives.

  “You speak to her as an equal,” Hawk said. “And she does the same for you.” He sounded intrigued.

  Utar blinked and looked over his shoulder at Marna’s retreating back, then shrugged at the warrior. “I guess it must seem strange to you.” He looked at the Legion members, then his gaze landed pointedly on me, seated between Sheriff’s knees, before returning to Hawk and Sheriff.

  “We were like you, once. Before the Dregs took us. Something happens to you when you spend months being treated worse than the scum on another man’s boots. It wasn’t just that everything they did was meant to break us. Saketh and his men treated us all as slaves, making no distinction between the men and the women.”

  I snapped my gaze up to his, trying to wrap my head around what he was saying. Until now, I’d never seen women treated the way Utar treated Marna. His behavior went against all that I’d been raised to believe. It should have felt wrong, and yet it felt right for them somehow.

  Utar paused, looking intently at Sheriff. “I hope you understand, I mean no offense by what I’m about to say…”

  “Of course, none taken.” Sheriff waved his hand.

  “When a man finds himself in the same cage as his women, his own slaves…” Utar shook his head. “When he’s forced to call another male master, it changes how you see the world. You see how you treat others, and suddenly hearing a woman call you master feels wrong. When all you have is survival, previous roles that once seemed so important no longer matter.”