ARLEN
I hadn’t even noticed the cloud of dust until Tyos whipped his head around and stood. Fear clogged my throat as the barbarians hopped down from the wagons or appeared from thetrees, standing between us and whoever approached. Matthew followed behind his husband, bow at the ready, and took up a stance near the fire, our last line of defense if someone somehow got past our barbarian protectors.
I wrapped the fur Tyos had given me tighter around my body, wishing I at least had clothes to wear. I couldn’t even see where my dirty clothes were from the night before. It had been such a foolish idea to remove them.
“What’s going on?” someone snapped, and my head whipped around to track the speaker. A small man with pink hair and a tunic too large for him stood in the wagon I’d slept in, peering out with an irritated scowl. Behind him, a man with dark and curly hair blinked blearily out, looking not quite awake enough to take in the situation properly.
“Horses approaching,” Melanie warned, rushing over to the other wagon with townsfolk in it to warn the people inside. I wasn’t sure how many there were exactly, but I counted seven or eight barbarians. Surely that would be enough to dissuade anyone from attacking. Hopefully, anyway.
The pink haired man made a tsk sound, disappearing inside and coming back out with daggers in his hand. The sleepy one seemed more alert after the warning and grabbed his own sword, hopping down with the other one to take up their own protective stances around the wagon still filled with people.
“H-Here,” Matthew whispered, handing me a tunic. “I-It b-belongs t-t-to T-Tyos.”
I hadn’t noticed my barbarian protector had been without a tunic when we woke, too startled by the fact that I’d woke up in the arms of a man for the first time in my life. It felt weird to steal his clothes while he was busy protecting me, but the idea of the camp being attacked with me in nothing but my small clothes and a fur around my shoulders was terrifying and I took thematerial gratefully, pulling it over my head just as the hoofbeats stopped just outside the camp.
“We’re here for Arlen Whittaker,” a familiar voice boomed. Marvin, the town marshal, a man for whom I had tailored clothes for more than half my life. A man I knew hated people with my affliction with a passion. He was more likely to kill me than bring me to jail like the rumors said. “By order of the king.”
My stomach dropped at that declaration, and I found myself edging around the wagon to see what was happening. They had to be lying. There was no way the king would demand that I return home. Why would he care about one tailor? I wasn’t even that popular. I only ever served my town.
“You’re bluffing,” the pink haired man said. I jumped almost a foot in the air when I realized he’d followed me. He moved around me and stood by the front of the wagon, a sneer on his face as he stared down the people from my town. “Why would a king waste his time with matters like this?”
“When his citizens are being kidnapped and towns left in despair, of course our king would step in,” Marvin snarled. “And if you don’t want war declared, you will return the tailor and any other traitors you have with you.”
The curly haired man with the swords snorted as he moved to join his friends, his words in a language I was unfamiliar with. The pink-haired man translated for him. “Your king wants war with Al Nuzem? Does he wish for death?”
Marvin’s furious glare swung to the man, but he faltered when the man pretended not to notice him, looking at his nails like they were of more interest than this conversation. He wasn’t used to people ignoring his authority.
“Al Nuzem will not go to war over a handful of disgusting traitors,” Marvin insisted. “And even if they did, our king would conquer–”
“Are you sure about that?” the pink haired man asked blandly as the dark haired one flashed a signet ring I hadn’t noticed before. “Because as a prince of Al Nuzem, Zakai has his king’s ear. King Zohaib would declare war on your pathetic country for the insult alone of threatening his youngest son.”
The guards behind Marvin shifted uneasily. I wasn’t sure if what the man said was true, but he didn’t look like he was bluffing. He lifted his chin, standing with the kind of confidence only a royal could have, his expression daring Marvin to make a poor choice.
“The barbarians are part of Al Nuzem now. Which means everyone in this group is now of Al Nuzem,” the pink haired man said, his tone turning deadly. “Try and take one of them, and it is you who will be declaring war with us. Your king didn’t have the inclination to send troops when you were forced to sign a treaty with the barbarians. What makes you think he’ll step in to protect you against Al Nuzem now?”
CHAPTER SIX
ARLEN
My heart pounded in my chest as I watched the standoff between Marvin and the barbarians. I had no connection to the barbarians. They didn’t need to keep protecting me. But not one of them wavered or stood down. They stood like a literal wall of muscle between me and those who sought to take me away, and they didn’t give an inch, even when Marvin pressed forward until his horse was nose to nose with Tyos. The barbarian who rescued me didn’t even flinch. He reached up, grabbed the reins on the animal, and jerked them out of Marvin’s hands so fast, he had no chance of keeping a grip on them. The action startled Marvin so much, he could only splutter in response, his ability to control his own mount completely taken from him like a child.
Another guard, Don, urged his horse closer, glare locked on me. “Are you really so selfish that you would leave your town without a clothier just so you can bend over for someone?”
My face flushed at the implication, but I didn’t have a chance to think of a reply. The pink-haired man answered for me, though not in any way I would have addressed the angry guard.
“You sound jealous. Are you wishing he would’ve bent over for you?” he sneered.
Startled, I whipped my gaze to Don again, surprised to see his face flush. “Absolutely not! I am not afflicted with that disgusting disease! I wouldn’t touch him for all the gold in the land!”
From the look on his face, the pink-haired man either didn’t believe him or didn’t care. He just raised an eyebrow at Don, his expression bored.
“If he’s so disgusting, why are you fighting so hard to get him back? Is your town so pathetic that it’d rather hold ‘diseased’ people hostage than find another tailor? You really want someone like him touching your clothes? It seems more likely to me that you want him for yourself.”
I knew what he was trying to do, and he made air quotes when saying the word ‘diseased’, but it still hurt to hear it. I wasn’t diseased, and I hated even the implication.
“Mind your tongue, traitor,” Marvin snapped, finally getting his confidence back. “You are not part of this.”
“What’s the matter? Did I strike a nerve? Are you wishing you could have fucked him, too?”