Renegade Heart by Kay Ellis

“You, who have been content to hide away down here for thirty turns!”
    “Waiting for someone like you!” Trobard insisted. “A hero among heroes.”
    “There’s nothing I can do! Even if I started training the men, even if they could work to rebuild their strength, even if we could take the guards by surprise – we could not hope to win! We would die as surely as hanging from the gallows.”
    “Some would die, yes,” Trobard conceded. “But not all. Some would escape. Best of all, none would hang and just imagine how that will upset the King’s birthday.”
    “I guess it would.” Wolf studied his men again, a slow smile spreading across his handsome face. “Therefore, I suppose we must consider it our duty as renegades to go down fighting.”
    He stepped forward, an imposing figure in the shadowy dungeon. He clapped his hands together, demanding the attention of his men and the sound echoed around the chamber.
    “Renegades, those among you who are able to stand, get to your feet.”
    Trobard held his breath as he watched the renegades closely. The boy was young with less life experience than any of the men there. If he had judged Wolf incorrectly it was possible they would laugh in his face at his order or simply turn their backs and ignore him.
    The renegades did neither. Instead, the men slowly and painfully stumbled to their feet, some of them leaning on their neighbour for support. Only the weakest of the renegades stayed on the ground, but even they raised trembling hands in the air as proof of their commitment to the cause.
    Wolf nodded, satisfied. “We have rested long enough. Now the time has come to regain our strength and return to what we know best. Only this time, we are taking the fight to the King himself.”

.13.
     
    I n the short time since the arrival of the women a change had come over the camp. The men seemed more settled and those who had been injured were making good progress under the care of Taola and Eija. At the campfire, Krisha had become a firm favourite with her sweet nature and her considerable talent for cooking. Magnosa had taken a place on the Council, forming a close partnership with Fairac, and had quickly earned the respect of the men.
    As well as caring for Hawk, Enola had taken up lessons with the other girls, spending hours each day learning how to ride a horse and wield a sword, a weapon she found particularly cumbersome and had not taken to at all. In her opinion, the archery lessons were better by far. An increasingly confident Lark was proving to be a popular and capable tutor, not only with the girls, but with quite a few of the men too. Even little Hawk had taken to proudly strutting around the camp with a miniature bow slung over his shoulder.
    Since sharing that awkward kiss a couple of days ago, Enola had not managed to find any time to be alone with Lark and during the archery lessons they were careful not to be caught indulging in lingering looks or touches. Both of them were aware that Lark’s newfound acceptance among the renegades was still tenuous and, seeing how much the approval of the others mattered, Enola vowed she would do nothing to spoil it for him.
    They had been in the forest almost a week when a stranger rode into camp. The rider looked surprised, but not overly concerned to find himself greeted by a wall of swords and arrows.
    “I seek an audience with your leader,” he called out. “Who claims the title now that Tregaar is dead?”
    “That would be me.” Fairac stepped forward, his sword held aloft. “Although I assure you, my position is a temporary one. I am merely holding court until a more suitable candidate can be found.”
    “Fairac, we have met before,” the man said, boldly dismounting from his horse and electing to ignore the circle of weapons pointed at him anew. “You came to my home with Tregaar three times or more when he came to me for information from the city.”
    “I remember,” Fairac replied with a curt nod