Another invader appeared, and the two of them towered so
far over her that Charis rose to her knees, trying to
balance herself with her hands as the surface beneath her
shifted. Her stomach clenched in nausea and fear. What had
happened?
"You're a slave, Healer," came a barely familiar voice,
low to the ship's deck. "So am I. Believe me, I did
everything I could to make sure it wouldn't happen."
A slave? "No," she whispered, shaking her head in abject
denial.
"Yes." It was the son of Branieucc. She met his eyes,
and they were deeply compassionate, sorrowful and
resentful. "Yes. The Ostmen have taken us. You have,
apparently, been claimed by Agnarr." Cowan inclined his
head towards her captor, the man who'd murdered Devin and
Devlin.
"No!" she moaned, dropping her head. "No, it can't be.
We . . ." Then a face flashed before her eyes. Aislinn.
Charis's breath came fast and dry to her throat and she
swallowed. "Cowan?" One purpose had her leaning forward to
keep her voice as low as possible. "Did they find the
children?"
"Children?" Cowan's eyes darted back and forth and
Charis watched only his face, for the future of her people
rested with Aislinn and the children. "No, I saw no
children," he whispered, his expression carefully blank.
"Oh . . ." Relief swamped her and she collapsed again on
the deck.