She met his gaze. “I’ve said nothing. I know you’d retaliate if I did.”
His eyes narrowed. “You think you’re clever, don’t you? So much more clever than me.”
Moria bit her tongue against a retort. Even when she was civil and reasonable, he still found fault. Ashyn would say he was an angry man, an unhappy man. Perhaps so, but that wouldn’t stop Moria from putting a dagger through him if she got the chance. Nothing excused humiliating and torturing a helpless captive.
“Are you still undressing?” he said. “Because if I need to help you, you won’t be able to wear that clothing again, and I’ll not bring you anything new.”
Moria yanked off her tunic and trousers. When she finished, she was wearing a thin silken shift that fell to the top of her thighs. She reached over to take the cloth from the bowl of hot water. As she did, she tensed, waiting for him to tell her to remove the shift. He said nothing, and she didn’t look at him – just took the lump of soap, rubbed it on the wet cloth, and began to clean her arms.
When she glanced up, he was staring at her. She’d been ogled by men before, but she was beginning to realize this was far more dangerous than having him spit in her stew.
Her gaze fell to his blades. Could she distract him and grab his dagger? If she could distract him, would she distract him?
Yes, she would use his ogling, if that was the path to freedom. But it was not. Even if she pulled his blade, the hall was guarded.
She lowered her gaze and put the cloth back into the bowl. “I’m done. The water’s cold, and I’m quite clean. Thank you for bringing me an extra —”
“Finish bathing.” The growl in his voice warned her. Tread carefully.
“I have. Thank you for bringing the water. I appreciate —”
He rose from his crouch so fast that her fingers automatically dropped to her side, where her blade should be. He was on his feet now, standing beside the water bowl.
“You’ll not do it yourself?” he said.
“I truly don’t need —”
He plunged his hand into the water and took up the soap. He squeezed it, suds and ooze running through his fingers. Then he dropped the soap and advanced on her, his jaw set. He grabbed her bare knee. And she grabbed his dagger.
It wasn’t planned. Wasn’t even intentional. He yanked her leg, and she went for his blade, as if there was no other option. Even as her fingers closed on the cool handle, she knew she’d made a mistake.
It wasn’t too late. She could let go and pray to the ancestors that he hadn’t noticed. But nothing in her would allow him to touch her, because if he did it once, he’d not stop doing it. So she grabbed the dagger, and she plunged it into his gut.
He let out a howl and fell back. She yanked it out. Blood gushed, and he howled again. She gripped the dagger, ready to stab him again if he reached for his sword. But he only let out a snarl, grabbed the front of her shift and yanked so hard the silk tore.
His eyes rolled in pain and fury, his hand still wrapped in her shift, blood soaking it now as his wound gushed. He wrenched, as if to pull her onto the floor. She stabbed him again. She didn’t know where. It didn’t matter, truly, only that she stabbed him as he yowled in fresh pain. Still, he grabbed for her, and she was raising the blade again, ready to deliver the final blow when the door swung open.
THIRTY-ONE
Someone gasped. Moria didn’t turn to see who it was, didn’t dare look away from Halmond as his hand swiped for her again. She caught it with the blade while footsteps pounded on the dirt floor. She saw another hand swinging down at them, and she thought, I’m dead. They caught me attacking my guard, and now I’m dead.
But the hand grabbed Halmond instead, catching him by the back of his tunic and throwing him aside.
“Get him out of here. Now!”
“He’s hurt, my lord.” Another guard’s voice. “He needs a healer —”
“Then get him one someplace else. Preferably the next cell. Where he will remain if he survives.”
Moria looked up to see Gavril, fairly shaking with rage. She saw that and perhaps, if it had been her first day here, she would have wept from relief. She’d have seen that rage and thought, See? He does care for me. Things are not as they seem.
But it was no longer that first day. She’d suffered Halmond’s torments for five days. She’d been under Gavril’s care for five days, and he’d not even looked in to see how she was faring.
If he was furious now, it meant nothing except that Halmond had betrayed his trust.
So now she looked up at him and thought of the dagger still in her hand. His gaze was fixed on the guards carrying Halmond out. He didn’t see her, lying at his feet, close enough to leap up and…
Her fingers tightened around the handle.
“Don’t,” he said. He didn’t even bother to glance down.
She rose slowly, tensed to spring, bloodied blade clutched in her hand.
“Moria…” He looked at her then. “You don’t want to do that.”
“Oh, yes.” She met his gaze. “I do.”
Something flickered in his eyes, and he turned away, his hand rising to rub at his face as he sighed. She threatened his life and he only sighed, as if she’d called him a foul name.
“Perhaps you do, but it won’t help,” he said. “If you raise that blade, I’ll pull mine, and we both know how that turned out the last time.”