Read Forged in Blood II for Free Online

her from the men and the door. Since she was on her knees, with ropes tangled about her ankles, it was conceivable, no, probable, that the guards would be able to pull out their weapons before she could cross the distance and attack them. A distraction would be good.
    “You could be telling us any sorts of lies,” Moglivakarani said, “thinking it’d improve your position.”
    Akstyr sat up straighter, met Amaranthe’s eyes, and gave the barest hint of a nod.
    “That’s true, Corporal.” She tilted her head. “I do have a letter in my pocket with his signature on it if you want to take a look. It’s dated so you’ll know it’s from this past week.”
    Books gave her a curious look. She gazed blandly back at him.
    “Which pocket?” Moglivakarani took a wary step toward her.
    Belatedly, Amaranthe remembered she wasn’t dressed in her usual pocket-filled fatigues. Though the prosthetic nose had fallen off, she still wore her Suan costume, complete with blonde hair and a pocket-free dress. Oh, well. Improvise. The letter wasn’t real either, after all.
    “It’s an inside pocket.” Amaranthe lowered her chin, eyes toward her bosom.
    “I’ll get it,” Gettle blurted and hustled forward.
    Moglivakarani lunged after him, grabbing his arm. “Private, you’re not going to grope the—”
    Books and Akstyr leaped to their feet, each barreling into a separate man, as if they’d somehow coordinated their attack ahead of time. It didn’t take Amaranthe much longer to rise, but she needn’t have hurried. Akstyr and Books were both kneeling on the backs of their men, pinning arms behind backs and mashing faces into the worn floorboards. She gave them nods, admiring how efficient they’d grown in the last year, then collected the soldiers’ weapons.
    “Perhaps I should wear dresses more often,” Amaranthe said. “That ruse doesn’t work as effectively when I’m in those figure-shrouding army fatigues.”
    “Ruse?” Gettle muttered. “Does that mean there was no letter?”
    “No pockets either,” Amaranthe said.
    “Idiot,” Moglivakarani said.
    “How was I supposed to know their hands were free?
How
were their hands free?”
    “Tie them up, please,” Amaranthe told Books and Akstyr. She didn’t want to encourage the private’s line of thought.
    The clacks of the wheels on the rails seemed to be slowing. Wondering if they were reaching the lake and the capital, Amaranthe clambered onto a crate and peered through a slat in the wall. They’d come out of the mountains, but were passing through white rolling hills rather than the farmlands west of the lake. “Willow Pond,” she guessed, naming the last stop before Stumps.
    “Perhaps we should get out here and catch the next train,” Books said.
    “And let a legendary war hero go without making a solid attempt to win him to our side?” Amaranthe asked.
    “We did attempt that,” Akstyr said, “and we got thrown in here. We—”
    The metal rollers of the sliding door squeaked, and light flooded the car. Amaranthe spun, raising her new army pistol. She halted, however, when she spotted a similar weapon already pointed at her chest. The hand holding it belonged to Starcrest. Books and Akstyr had finished tying the soldiers, and they, too, spun toward the door, crouching, fists curled into loose fists, ready for a fight.
    “Interesting,” Starcrest said, taking them in, as well as the prone soldiers.
    They groaned when they heard his voice, more in embarrassment than pain, Amaranthe guessed.
    She lowered her pistol. Starcrest was the only one standing in the doorway as the train slowed, icicle-bedecked buildings passing behind him, but she couldn’t be certain there weren’t ten more soldiers lined up to either side of him. She didn’t want to fight with him anyway.
    “We like to think so.” Amaranthe propped an elbow on a crate. “Won’t you come in? We’d love to discuss things with you.”
    “That is what I had in mind.” Starcrest