Marlene lived for risk. Of course she did. Everyone who knew her knew this. She knew this. After all, she could have chosen a life of comfort and luxury, clothed in silk and gemstones. Instead she chose an existence of violence and war, one that left her palms callused and guaranteed a permanent unmarried state back home.
But this current situation was beyond risky, even for her.
"Keep walking," she said under her breath. Any louder and they would attract unwanted attention. Already her instincts were on high alert, taking stock of anyone who looked in their direction. Did they stand out? Would anyone notice how ill-fitting her uniform was?
Would someone see through her facade, at how carefully she moved because the gash in her side stole her breath with each step?
At least Sando followed docilely. Too docilely for Marlene's tastes, to be honest. It bothered her to see her one-time opponent and rival laid so low. Bruises littered her pale skin. Chains hobbled her ankles and wrists. But despite these things, Sando should be fighting tooth and nail, a living whirlwind of lethal feet and precise fists. Instead she trailed after Marlene silently, dark eyes glittering in the moonlight.
It bothered Marlene more than words could say. The role of captive and prisoner should never fit the other woman so well.
As they neared the camp's fringes, Marlene's shoulders tightened. It only made the wound in her side ache more, but she drove down the pain. She would worry about the injury later. They were so close to freedom. So close to escaping this debacle.
They almost made it.
Almost.
Marlene tested the ropes tying her and Sando's wrists together. Other than a rustle, the other woman voiced no complaint, not even when Marlene jerked their bindings roughly. The angle had to be hurting Sando's joints.
Then again, maybe not.
Marlene fought down a surge of resentment. At this situation. At their accursed bad luck.
At Sando.
Marlene never expected to see this woman again. She never wanted to. Sando brought nothing but unwanted memories with her, and Marlene could not afford to dwell on the past. She chose instead to keep her eyes forward, always forward, looking into the future. Rebuild a nation. Pick it up from the horrors of war and deadly magic. Watch it thrive. Make her father proud.
Better to focus on those goals than on what was lost. On who had been lost. Marlene would never admit it aloud, not to herself, and definitely not to Sando. She was uncertain the barbarian woman would even understand.
She licked her freshly split lip. The men serving the corrupt lord had a rough kind of hospitality. They took particular pleasure in hitting her face. Marlene had the distinct feeling she would be avoiding mirrors for a couple weeks after this.
If they ever escaped this.
"Why are you here?" The question had been niggling her since two nights ago, when the men dragged in a bedraggled, semi-conscious Sando and tossed her in with the rest of the hostages.
Marlene knew the woman heard her. Sando shifted and her head moved, loose hair falling over their entwined arms. But she said nothing and Marlene wanted to scream.
Coincidences did not exist. Not like this.
She was still pondering coincidences, or lack thereof, when the men returned. Starving and exhausted, not to mention feverish, Marlene found herself unable to muster up the energy for even an insult. Judging by the glint in their eyes, these men knew and liked that. It meant they would not have to further damage her exotic face.
It was just her and Sando now. The other hostages were dead through a combination of hunger, injury, and the men's pummeling fists. She had no intention of joining them but she needed to think. To come up with a new plan, a better one than its predecessor.
Marlene closed her eyes and waited for their next move.
Which was why she never saw what exactly Sando did to them to make them scream like that.
She did, however, see the end result.
Marlene was not a squeamish woman. She had seen many things. A woman who makes a home on the battlefield often does.
But she did not want to look too hard at the corpses littered around them. She did not want to examine the injuries that had killed them too closely. Sando had no weapons. She had not even used a rock. Only her hands and feet and the tattered rope that had once bound her to Marlene. That was it. That was all.
It was enough, though. It was more than enough.
Marlene rubbed her wrists. The skin had felt raw and tender. How Sando had managed to work her way free of the rope was beyond comprehension. She glanced over at the other woman.
Sando stood over a corpse, that preternatural stillness making her into a statue. Only the night breeze stirred her hair and even then, it was slight. It unnerved Marlene. The barbarian woman looked like a ghost.
With a sigh, she began to rummage through the hired killers' supplies. She found her whip and was glad. She would have hated to lose her favorite weapon. Hopefully there would be other useful things among the supplies. The journey back from this forsaken place was a long one, and they would need to make use of everything they could find.
Sando tried to run away the first chance she could. Of course. She had the look of someone who was not used to people. To be honest, she had looked that way when Marlene had first met her, when the other woman had still been Munsu's bodyguard.
Some bodyguard.
Marlene ignored the thought even though it ran through her mind multiple times a day, with increasing frequency the longer she spent in Sando's presence. Even so, she refused to let it dominate her thoughts.
It certainly had nothing to do with her chasing after Sando. Pursuing her. Running her into the ground. The woman had no supplies. She hadn't even try to steal the ones Marlene had taken. How had she expected to survive in this terrain?
The question sent a shiver down her spine because the recklessness spoke of something else. Of an expectation. Of a certainty.
Something told Marlene that Sando had expected to survive. That perhaps she had done something like this in the past.
But Marlene refused to dwell on that, too. She had already spent too much headspace on this woman. She was merely doing this because Sando still had some questions to answer.
That was it. Nothing more.
Sando went down without a sound when Marlene caught her.
Marlene hated that silence, most of all.
Marlene hated herself for this weakness, this fascination with her master's last, most precious companion, but she felt it all the same. What in this mere slip of a woman-child could have interested him so? She tugged on the whip, watching the leather cord grow taut, biting into the slender lines of Sando's delicate wrists. "Move."
Sando watched her. Nothing. She did nothing. She said nothing. Always, it was nothing. Always, it was silence.
Marlene snarled. "Move." She shifted her weight, resting more of it on the other woman's upper torso. She liked to pretend she felt the fine bones in that ribcage creak.
And even then, Sando remained still.
"I said move." How could her master have tolerated this silent, wide-eyed, boring little doll?
Sando blinked. That was the only warning Marlene had before she found herself sailing through the air. Dammit—
The ground hit her back, hard and unforgiving, knocking the breath clear from her lungs. Something slithered in the grass and she turned her head in time to see her whip coil uselessly, harmlessly, beside her. Marlene snapped her head back and stared up at Sando, her body laying between the other woman's legs.
She aimed a kick at Sando's knee but Sando was faster, much faster than when they had last met, much faster than her injuries should have allowed. Definitely much faster than Marlene could keep up with. Where had this woman been when Marlene had chased her down and caught her?
Sando latched onto Marlene's ankle before her boot connected and twisted. Marlene tried to stifle her cry of pain; it came out as an agonized groan regardless. The wound in her side protested loudly and she felt a fresh surge of blood against her skin. Not good.
Sando cocked her head and dropped Marlene's leg. She then dropped her entire body onto Marlene's chest, crouching over her, long hair spilling over them both like a veil of night. Oddly, that motion hurt not at all.
Marlene tried to hold herself still as Sando brought her face close. Breath coasted over her lips. "You miss him."
"Are you even human?" she replied instead. Marlene would never speak of the general to this woman who had been the cause of his death.
Sando did a strange thing then, the corners of her lips lifting in something not quite a smile. "You already know the answer."
Marlene was no fool. She knew she'd grown up a pampered, privileged life, the daughter of a victorious general who indulged his only child's whims without complaint. Who cared if she preferred swords to jewels? Military uniforms to dresses of lace and silk? She was as sharp, brilliant, and talented as her father. If she'd been anything less than excellent, then perhaps there would have been reason to criticize. But Marlene had never given anyone that excuse. Never.
So why did this barbarian wildling from a half-civilized nation tilt her world on its axis, shaking that unerring confidence to its core? Why did she consume all of Marlene's attention like so little else?
Sando asked again, "You know the answer, don't you?"
And while her eyes told her one thing, all her other senses screamed otherwise. Get her off you. She isn't human and she can kill you if you give her half the chance.
"What are you?" she whispered.
Sando drew closer. "Enemy."
Marlene sucked in a breath and bridged the gap between them. Sando's lips were soft but dry, pliant but unyielding. Marlene ran her tongue along their seam, seeking entrance to no avail. She pulled back to see Sando watching her with no expression.
Rage filled her breast. She reared up and slammed into Sando.
Or she would have if the other woman hadn't flitted away, rolling over the grass to rise gracefully to her feet several yards away. Marlene gathered herself, pushing herself up, her body made clumsy and heavy by the anger coursing through her veins. "What did he see in you?" she screamed.
Sando watched, her face a mask. Ever the doll, Marlene thought bitterly. "What do you want from me?" she asked. Marlene heard the question beneath: Why do you dog my steps?
Marlene wondered the same thing.
So she offered truth. "I want him back."
Sando's eyes watched, liquid darkness. "He's gone."
"I know," she said through gritted teeth. "He's dead."
Because of you.
The words remained unsaid but their presence lay between them, heavy and edged.
Then Sando blinked again and took a step back. Suddenly Marlene found herself able to breathe again. She pushed to her feet, wincing as her side pulled. Sando noticed. "You're hurt."
"So are you." The retort came easily but the words carried no bite. Hard to do so when Sando was such a danger. "Why did you wait so long?"
The other woman cocked her head.
"You could have gotten free at any time," Marlene clarified. That must was painfully obvious now. "Why didn't you?"
"You're hurt," Sando repeated.
Marlene stiffened. "You're not saying you—"
"Your report didn't come," she continued.
No. Impossible. Sando could not mean—
"I was hired." The words fell like rocks.
Cold filled Marlene in a way that had nothing to do with the night air or her blood loss. After a while, she finally found her voice again. "By who?"
Sando smiled then, a slight lifting of her lips. It should have made her more human.
It did not.
"Your father," Sando said.
Marlene closed her eyes and clenched her fists. She could not get angry at her father. He meant well and his concern over her welfare in this country was not unfounded. Especially considering the state it had been in when they had arrived here. He would not know Sando's history with the general. He would not know Marlene's history with Sando.
"You came here," Marlene forced each word out through a throat that had all but closed up on her, "to rescue me?"
"Yes." One word. All that was needed to respond to her question. Sando was a paragon of serenity. It angered Marlene to see her so calm.
She took a step towards the other woman. All of that— All of the pain and beatings and hunger and failed planning— None of it had been necessary!
"We're even now," Sando said quietly.
The simple statement pinned Marlene in place.
"We're done now." Sando watched her carefully.
She had nerve. Marlene had to give her that. "No, we are—"
Sando closed the gap between them. She caught Marlene's face between her hands. Her fingers traced down Marlene's temples and cheeks. Marlene swallowed heavily. For someone so lethal in combat, Sando had the softest hands. "We are done," she murmured.
Marlene could not understand her reaction. Panic threatened to overcome her. Why? She hated this woman.
But Sando was her only connection to the general. The last connection. "Wait, no—"
Sando was gone.
Marlene squeezed her eyes shut, turned her face up toward the unforgiving moon, and screamed.
No one answered.