“Otec’s children,” one of the men said. Then the guards backed up a few steps.
Ilyenna’s gaze flickered to Darrien and away again. If he told his father she’d killed his other son, she’d be dead in a handful of heartbeats.
Darrien opened his mouth to speak but stopped at the sound of a scuffle behind him. Ilyenna strained to see past them. Her father was thrown face first into the room.
She reached forward to help him to his feet. Bratton’s hand shot out, holding her back. A knot of anxiety unraveled in her chest. Her father was alive. And after four days, he was awake. The dead had kept their end of the bargain.
Holding himself up with one arm, her father met her gaze. The lines around his face seemed to soften. He glanced at Bratton and nodded slightly. Bratton nodded back. Ilyenna wondered what silent communication had passed between them.
Otec held his arm snug against his belly. Only then did Ilyenna see that it was hanging unnaturally, broken. Blood circled the back of his neck to drip from his chin. Bruises marred his weathered face.
A cry arose in Ilyenna’s throat. They’d beaten him. Her brother tightened his grip on her arm. She wanted so badly to help her father, but Bratton wouldn’t keep her back without good reason. Tears of helplessness slipped down her face.
Her father pushed himself up with his good arm. His eyes closed and he struggled to take a few deep breaths before slowly turning to face their attackers.
His face twisted with rage, Undon said, “Otec, you banded with my enemy, the Argons, and fought against our clan. In doing so, you became my enemy. Then your men murdered one of my sons.”
Ilyenna winced. Undon didn’t know she’d killed Hammoth. If he did, she’d already be dead.
“I come to claim the right of reparation for what you’ve taken,” Undon continued. “For the deaths of my men, I claim half your herds, half your wool, half your gold and silver, to be paid faithfully at harvest for the next five years.”
A gasp rippled through the clan. Ilyenna blinked in shock. Five years of giving up half of everything? They would starve.
Protests rose from Shyle throats.
Undon caressed his axe hilt. “For my eldest son, who would’ve been clan chief after my death, I claim tiams to serve five years.” He stepped toward Ilyenna’s father. “You first and foremost among them, Otec.”
Her father—the clan chief—a tiam? Until his debt is paid, a tiam must serve and submit. The Balance demanded it.
Somehow, her father managed to remain standing, though his body swayed. Ilyenna longed to run to his side, to offer him a steadying hand and tend to his wounds. “Undon, the Argon clan has been next to kin to the Shyle for generations.” Otec’s gravelly voice sounded strong. “We helped defend them and offered aid when you sacked them. This is no crime.”
Undon took a menacing step forward. “This was between me and Clan Chief Seneth. You made it between me and you as well.”
Her father shrugged away Undon’s warning, a dangerous thing to do when his enemy held an axe and he held a broken arm. “You’ve no claims here.”
Undon slowly turned to the men beyond sight of the door. “Seal the clan house. Bar the doors. Bring in the torches. Burn everything.” Embers of hatred smoldered in his eyes. “Everything.”
Cries and gasps erupted. Ilyenna’s eyes widened and her throat went dry. Bratton’s grip tightened around her, as if the strength of his arms could shield her from the flames.
“You do this, and the Council will band against you! Your wheat will grow red with Tyran blood,” her father cried.
Undon stepped forward. “The Council can’t even agree to plant potatoes in dirt. They won’t risk a war with my clan. Accept my terms. Only then will I forgive your betrayal.”
Ilyenna didn’t believe it. The Council would never stand for this treason. But the Council wasn’t here. The pounding of hammers rang in Ilyenna’s ears. Slowly, the light was being snuffed out. They were boarding up the windows. She gripped a fistful of Bratton’s shirt.
They had no choice. “All but the tiams and land,” her father finally whispered.
“You can burn.” Undon lifted his axe to slice off her father’s head.
“No,” Ilyenna cried as she tore herself from Bratton’s grip. Leaping forward, she threw herself at Undon, her fingers straining to scratch out his eyes. Her father’s good arm reached out and jerked her back just as Undon’s axe arched toward her skull. Bratton was moments behind, trying to pull her deeper into the crowd. She fought against him, struggling and cursing Undon.
Somehow, she managed to break free. She grabbed Undon’s axe handle just as he swung it. He wrenched it back, but she managed to hold on by her fingertips, knowing she’d die if she let go. “Honor to the Shyle! Honor to the Shyle!” she shouted her clan’s war cry.
Within moments, her clan surrounded her, bare hands against bare steel. They wrestled Undon’s axe from his grip while others took down Darrien. A scream tore through the air—the sound of a soul torn from its body.
Tyrans flooded the room by tens, axes shining with fresh blood. A Shyle woman dropped. And another. They were falling like lambs before wolves.
“Back!” her father cried. “Back!”
With fresh wounds, her clan retreated. It had barely begun, and it was over.
Breathing hard, his glare murderous, Undon gestured for his men to bring Ilyenna to him. Bratton stepped between them. More of her clanmen blocked their path. The Tyrans pushed them back with their shields and bashed them with the butts of their axes.
“Stop,” she commanded her clanmen. “Let them through.”
Bratton grabbed her arms. “No! I’ll not let them harm you!”
She felt the bruises forming under his grip. “The clan needs one of us to live,” she whispered. He didn’t move. “I’m marked,” she reminded him. Unless she somehow managed to elude the dead’s attention, she was as good as dead anyway. She gently pried his fingers from her arms.
She looked in her brother’s eyes and saw understanding overtake his need to protect her. The clan came first. They both knew this, had known it since childhood. With fists clenched until the sinews stood out, Bratton lowered his hands to his sides.
Iron grips jerked Ilyenna away from him. Refusing to be dragged, she forced herself to keep her feet under her. The Tyrans shoved her into Undon’s arms. He jerked her back by her hair and held his axe to the soft skin of her throat. She glared at him, daring him to kill her. The ringing of hammers set her teeth on edge.
Undon’s gaze lingered on her face. “I remember your mother, Clan Mistress Ilyenna. Perhaps instead of killing Otec, I’ll satisfy myself with you.” He pulled back his half-moon axe. Cries erupted from her clan.
So another cost of seeking the dead would be her life. So be it. At least she had saved her brother and father. She shut her eyes and turned away.
“Wait,” she heard Darrien say. She opened her eyes to see his hand on his father’s arm.
Undon paused. His son stepped forward and probed the slash in Ilyenna’s dress. She shuddered as his fingers touched her bare flesh. His brows knit together. “What kind of power is this?” he murmured so softly she was sure no one else heard him.
At some point in the scuffle, her braid had come loose. He took advantage, sifting through her black hair, something only her husband should ever do. He caressed her jaw and throat. “White as milk,” he murmured. Leaning in, he whispered, “My brother wouldn’t have hurt you. You’d have been better off to kill me. I’ll make you pay for your mistake, little one. And I’ll enjoy every moment of it.”
A shiver of terror ran down her spine.
“Make her the tiam instead, Father,” he said loudly.
Undon slowly nodded. “Very good, Darrien. That’ll keep the Shyle in line.”
“No,” her father gasped. “I’d rather you killed her.”
Ilyenna saw the desperation on her father’s face—desperation that mirrored her brother’s. As she understood, her stomach roiled. More than her life was at stake. Darrien would force her to marry him. That would give him claim to the Shyle.
Undon sneered at her father. “You know the law, Otec. Any clan who trespasses against another is subject to reparation.”
Her father spat at his feet. “The Council orders reparation when one clan wrongs another, not you! You’re no better than a Raider!”
Undon chuckled darkly before stepping so close to Ilyenna she couldn’t focus on his face. She forced herself to stand erect, her shoulders thrown back. “I shall leave the choice with you, Ilyenna. Five years as my tiam. Serve faithfully, submit to my will, and I’ll allow the Shyle to live as long as they hold to the rest of the terms.”
“No, Ilyenna,” the cry was from her brother and was echoed by her clan.
Her head ached. She wanted to vomit. She wanted to scream. Instead, she narrowed her gaze. “You’ll leave our lands alone?”
Ondon shrugged. “If your people pay honestly and faithfully, I’ll leave their lands intact.”
Her shoulders dropped. A tiam—a slave but for the rights she bargained for. But her time wouldn’t last. The Council would intervene. They had to. She held onto that candle flame of hope, wavering as it was. “I will submit my sweat, but I will never marry you. You’ll not harm me, by violence or neglect.”