“Didn’t sleep well last night?” Maric asked as Brayan mounted up beside him the next morning.

Brayan made a face. “Is it that obvious?”

“Only because I know you. You get quiet and focused. Besides, from the look on your face when you headed off to bed last night, I could have guessed that you were in for a restless night.”

“Mm,” Brayan confirmed as he signalled to the men to ride out. “Your slave gave me a lot to think about.”

“I thought what he told you might help to ease your pain a little once you had time to process it, but you still seem unsettled.”

A long stretch of silence passed between them before Brayan finally spoke. “I think I saw Dara. At Davidston.”

“You mean…?”

Brayan nodded. “Yes. Afterwards. There was an Eth boy, a teenager, laying on the ground, naked and covered in blood. I thought he was dead the first couple of times I walked past him, but then I saw his eyes open, and when he realised the Kestror were gone, he managed to sit up.” Brayan swallowed. His eyes were fixed on the road ahead of them. “He was hugging himself around the stomach and he said he was fine, but he wouldn’t let me see. He told me there was a little girl hiding in the house next to us and I should go and help her because she probably wouldn’t come out on her own any time soon.”

“That sounds a lot like what he told us.”

Brayan nodded again, expression grim. “I tried to ignore it at first, but when he started talking about the little girl, I knew. It had to have been him.”

“What happened after that?” Maric prompted.

“I did what he said. I went inside, found the girl, and convinced her to squeeze her eyes shut and let me carry her out of there. By the time I made it back outside, someone had wrapped the Eth boy in a blanket and was carrying him away. He wasn’t moving and his eyes were shut, so I assumed he was dead.”

“A reasonable assumption.”

Brayan’s eyes shut for a moment as he let out a slow breath. “The thing is, I was relieved that he was dead. I didn’t want him to bear the burden of being a survivor of that. But now… now I know that not only did he not die, but that he was then subjected to years of ongoing cruelty. I know there’s nothing I could have done to change that, but even so…”

“Well, at least I’m not the only one doing myself harm because of an overabundance of empathy towards him anymore. It’s not such an unreasonable response when you understand the details of his situation, is it?”

Brayan shook his head. “It was never about it being unreasonable. It’s impractical. For all of us, including him. This whole situation is a nightmare.”

Maric couldn’t disagree with that. “What do you suggest?”

“Let him go, Maric. I know you’re fond of him, but this life isn’t right for him. He deserves to live the rest of his life baking bread or feeding chickens or something else equally safe and easy. And we deserve...” He sighed and shook his head again. “Well, it’s not about what we deserve. We just… we can’t. I can’t. There’s no room for these kinds of thoughts in a job like mine.”

Maric swallowed down an instinctive objection. Despite the pain and internal conflict, there was no part of Maric that wanted to get rid of Dara. Having him around just felt… right. But this wasn’t just about him. Brayan was clearly struggling with this, and he was right about Dara. It was unlikely he would ever be truly happy or comfortable as a bed slave. Perhaps knowing that Dara would be safe and happy going forward would finally bring Maric some peace in this matter. “Where could I leave him where he would have that, though?”

“I’ll ask Raedon and Mathers if they can point me towards someone at the banquet tonight. They grew up in Broven, so perhaps they know of someone trustworthy who would appreciate a free slave to help them out in their business or around the house.”

Maric let out a long sigh. “Yes. I’d appreciate you looking into that for me.”

#

That morning Dara had tried to be a good bed slave and seduce the prince, but the prince had brushed him off in favour of an early start on the day’s travels. They hadn’t even taken the time to have breakfast at the inn, the men instead grabbing bread and cheese and fruits and passing them out between themselves as they rode.

Dara had eaten only scraps passed to him by the prince and Brayan last night and hadn’t been given any lunch during yesterday’s ride. He was starting to get quite hungry, but of course he was forgotten again. He considered drawing the attention of one of the men and asking for something, but last night Brayan had told him not to look people in the eye, not to speak unless he was addressed, and he was trying to stick to that.

He let out a sigh and set his attention to making his little space in the back of the wagon as comfortable as he could instead. He’d dealt with far worse than a little hunger.