“Lyra and I do this together,” Damin says.
Hanna inclines her head. “You feel you are her protector, but you will now slow her, Damin Mur. Yes, I have heard of the rebel leader. Prioritise, friend, and do what is needed, not what is right for you.”
“Who are you?” I ask before Damin explodes.
“Ii is not my name that carries weight, but what I do,” Hanna murmurs. “I am of the Messengers. We know how to travel fast, and where the best routes are.”
We stare at her. Messengers are regarded as untouchable, for they are the word gatherers and bringers.
“Where is your horse?” Damin demands. I hear doubt in his tone.
“You are not displaying your sash,” Marica says.
Hanna lifts her tunic to reveal the famous red sash tucked into her breeches. “The raiders came upon four of us. We were en route to Normur from Alarn and they killed the others and took our mounts. I fortunately was about personal business away from our camp.”
“Personal business?” Damin asks.
She glances at him. “I was taking a piss, Damin Mur.”
I smile, seeing the look on Damin’s face, but this is not time for levity. “I am sorry about your companions.”
“We are in trouble if even the Messengers are attacked. I am making my way to our next refresh point to inform the guild of the situation.” Hanna looks at me. “Come with me, and I swear I will get you to Arc in the shortest possible time.” She moves her attention to Damin. “You deal with what awaits in Porlese, if you will, but know you have little time.”
Damin looks at me.
“I am going with her,” I murmur.
Eventually he looks away.
I feel as if I have betrayed him.