5. Pit of Beasts
5
PIT OF BEASTS
L uella was thrown roughly to the ground, her shoulders pulling uncomfortably from where her hands were tied behind her.
"Get up," her captor snarled from her back.
She tried to get her feet under her and lift her body, but all the energy had been sapped from her bones. She felt like a useless sack. Unable to do anything but be prey to the will of those around her.
She cried out as her arms were pulled, lifting her to stand with a forcible pull. She lurched to the side as she tried to right herself where her center of gravity warred with the unrelenting grip pulling taut against her bound hands.
The male pulled her closer to his body. "Steel yourself. You’ve entered the pit of beasts. Any slip-up or slight scent of fear, and they pounce," he whispered gruffly against the top of her frizzed hair. Luella breathed in the scent of ice and snow—something about it soothed an ache in her weary bones, and it took everything in her not to lean into him further. "I saved you from violation once, but if you’re caught unaware again, the King will understand if I don’t intervene. How else will you learn."
Luella gulped at the threat laced in his words. These males, these hardened, war-torn soldiers, were nothing like the respectable army of the fae.
The shifters and humans were a vile sort, utilizing any means necessary to gain the upper hand. Treachery and war crimes were prevalent. They treated their females like nothing more than a place to find pleasure and pillaged houses for any spoils to display proudly on their mantels. Some even took locks of hair or butchered appendages to remind themselves of their victory.
It wasn’t a wonder to her that Solis hadn’t even stood a chance against their attackers. The noble integrity of the fae simply was no match for the brute strength and savagery of the shifters.
For fae, it was unheard of to mingle with humans. But the shifters had no such qualms.
Not only did they openly trade and barter with the humans, but they also took them into their beds and trained alongside them in their armies. Luella’s tutors would say it was heinous to rely on such weak creatures; though, she secretly revered their bravery to break bread with whom they wished, as they regarded the humans with such an open heart.
She wished her own people were so accepting.
Luella’s captor led her forward, catcalls and whistling sounded out in tandem with lecherous chants and remarks.
"Look at the little Princess, so far from her castle now."
"You’re with real males now, heirus. We’ll take care of you the way they never knew how in that stuffy palace." Raucous laughter sounded at the words, and through the thick mass of watching males, Luella watched as one soldier shoved another in jest.
Curious, seedy eyes never left her, and she shrank further and further into herself with every taunting remark.
"Never had a fae, but I heard they’re meek fucks."
"I like my females wild. We’ll have to teach her."
The jeers were all around her as she was led deeper into their midst; war horses and soldiers stood around the palace grounds in a haphazard circle. Toward the lower stretches of the trail leading to the front gates of the castle, there was a caravan of wagons and carts attached to the backs of horses.
How long had they laid in wait? Luella thought bitterly.
Her captor stopped short at an imposing beast. A horse that had foam dripping from its maw. Eyes, a dark auburn, and coat an impossible shade of sleek black.
"Gentle, Miria." The male roughly fixed the saddle on his steed, Miria.
Luella’s captor eyed her as she worried her lower lip, shoulders caving inward as the soldiers circled her like birds of prey over carrion.
A sharp whistle cut through the ugly laughs and mocking words. Her captor smiled wildly, running a hand through his braided, white hair as he called out, "Prepare your horses and tend to your spoils. The kingdom of Solis is no more! We ride for Serpentis!"
A rally of cheers let out at his victorious decree, marking themselves as conqueror over Solis. The gathered males quickly departed, preparing their horses and righting their saddles and knapsacks.
One male passed closely by Luella, dragging a rolled-up, white rug behind him. Blood soaked the frayed corners and splattered over the once beautiful design she was sure had been woven into its surface—before the blood caked over it marred the beauty and turned it into something vile.
He grunted as he tried to drag it over a tiny collection of stones, the force causing a limp arm to fall out of the rug. Blood was coated under the fingernails, and one finger was snapped at an odd angle, a white bone sticking out of it.
Luella stumbled back a step, bound hands clenching behind her back as she watched.
The war spoils her captor had been referring to… Lifeless bodies taken to do gods knew what with.
Most of the spoils were dead, but a few were alive if the quiet pleas echoing from within the caravans and further into the group of soldiers were anything to go by.
A rattle of chains caused Luella to jerk her head around. The male brandished iron shackles. Faintly glowing runes were carved into the cuffs. An enchantment.
"Good luck escaping with these." The male waved the shackles, a savage grin stretching his lips. "I spelled them with you in mind, but I realize now it was quite a foolish endeavor. The King and Queen kept you under lock and key for a reason." He nosed the air around her as he breathed deeply. "You have no magic."
Luella inched back, as far as she could go with his unrelenting grip on the rope.
"You don’t talk much, Princess. Why is that? Do they keep you dumb and pliant in your castle? After all, what good is a female who can speak."
At the challenge in his voice, she finally spoke, anger welling up in her as she broke her shocked quiet. She never did speak much, though. Whenever she did, it always ended in punishment or reprimand. So Luella realized: why speak at all?
"I d-don’t have anything to say to you…" Her voice cracked at the end, a testament to its disuse and the trauma she had faced.
A curl of her hair was lifted from where it fell against her shoulder. The male rolled the strands of gold between his thumb and first two fingers, a contemplative look on his face. "I think I did like you better silent. Curse me again, and I’ll take your voice, just as I took your freedom."
Luella jerked her head to the side, forcing her hair to fall back against her shoulder. The curl slipped through his hand like silk, and eyes of icy blue never left hers as something dangerous fell over his face.
"You may have taken my freedom, but you’ll never take my soul." Luella stepped closer to the male, her chest brushing his armored stomach. Her voice shook, her body shook, but her soul burned . "Or my anger… And if you think for one moment that I will go gently or quietly, you are mistaken. I am not the pliant, meek fae you believe me to be."
He tilted his head back as he barked a laugh. "Oh, I’m under no impression you’re meek. Pliant, perhaps. You do come when I urge you." He lifted the rope between them, that savage smile never falling away from his lips. "But not easily. You’re the only female stupid enough to think of running from me, and I’ll collect my dues, Princess. No one escapes me unscathed. Rest assured, what you will face at my hands is nothing compared to what awaits you at Serpentis."
Chills raced down her spine, and she tried to keep up her mask of bravado. "Very well," she said, even though she wanted to curl up into a ball and let the elements take her to her death. "Lead the way." Jerking her head to gesture toward the awaiting steeds, Luella straightened her spine.
A cruel smile played along her captor’s lips, and in the growing daylight, his eyes appeared even more ethereal. A color that rivaled the translucent sheen of ice. He flicked a white braid over his strong shoulders, revealing the thick etching of tattoos she had glimpsed earlier. The ink crawled up the side of his neck and twisted under the line of his armor.
He spun her around, forcing her chest against Miria’s side. The steed’s coarse, black coat scratched Luella’s exposed skin. She felt a tug against her wrists as the male, none too gently, cut through the rope binding her. She was forced to face him, and her neck ached as she craned her head, peering at him through her lashes.
"Hands," her captor demanded, his palms held out before him.
Luella hesitantly placed her trembling hands in his. Red marks circled the skin of her wrists, angry and pulsing from how the coarse rope had grated against her delicate skin. She winced as he pulled one of her hands to him, lifting the iron cuff to clasp around her wrist before moving to the other.
The two cuffs were attached with a thick metal bar running between them. His fingers tested their inflexible hold, skimming over the already bruised surface of her wrists as he pulled against the chains. With every harsh tug, Luella bit her lip so hard she tasted the iron tang of her blood. She would not let him hear her pain.
He hummed under his breath, lifting the heavy weight of the chains and wrapping the end in his hands. A quick pat against the horse’s rump, and he lifted himself to mount, adeptly swinging a leg over to sit in what was almost a regal fashion atop Miria. The chain grew taut between them, and her shoulders ached.
The male was already tall and imposing but perched upon the beastly steed, he towered over her. Luella felt like an inconsequential speck of dirt compared to the power of this male’s presence.
With a sharp click of his tongue, he urged the horse forward.
"H-hey!" Luela stammered, feet tripping underneath her as she stumbled after the lightly trotting horse. Her hands were pulled in front of her, urging her to follow lest her arms be torn from their sockets.
She had no choice but to stumble after him. It was either that or be dragged against the rough stone and rocks littering the ground, which would very well take off the top layer of her skin.
That might’ve been his goal, flaying her to the bone.
He cast a glance over his shoulder. "Do keep up. Healing a dislocated shoulder would take time that I don’t wish to spare."
Luella bit her tongue to silence a curse. She didn’t want to risk him following through and taking her voice—even though she was not sure how, exactly, he would do such a thing… But Luella wasn’t about to find out.
He was a mage, she was almost certain. She could see it now, in the bright light of early morning. His arched ears were sharper than that of the fae, like a deadly amalgamation of the lower-level demon beasts and the fae who once bred, creating the mages.
The mages could master the magic of the Spirit and Body, and some could harness one or two elemental powers of their fae lineage. Rocks cut into her soles as her bare feet stumbled over the ground, and Luella wondered what type of elemental magic this mage had and what type of demonic powers ran through his veins.
Her captor was an enigma.
With his thick, black, swirling tattoos and piercing eyes, her first thought was he might have the diluted magic of his demon ancestors, Spirit. The tattoos etched into his skin were most likely imbued with enchantments, working to help make him nearly invincible. His eyes seemed to pierce right through to her soul. Like he knew just a little bit more than he should.
Spirit magic pertained to matters of the inside, and with every curious glance her captor cast over her body, Luella got the sense he was sensing much more than her fear but diving deeper into the depths of her magicless soul.
However, his appearance made her think he had mastery of Body magic. She knew mages that possessed the Body magic of their ancestors were large and deadly, with an unnatural strength brewing under their skin. They were the warriors and could do almost anything pertaining to the body: heal, hurt, increase stamina or endurance, and many other things Luella was not privy to. The mages, like the demons, kept their secrets closely guarded.
As her captor trotted outside the gates to the awaiting collection of soldiers, Luella debated simply giving in. She could fall to the ground and allow him to pull her forward until her arms snapped and her brain finished breaking under the weight of shock and anguish. The thought was so tempting.
I had nothing to live for, her mind traitorously whispered.
But then, she realized.
She had nothing to live for.
It was freeing, in a way. To have no one waiting on her with expectations or concerns. She could do whatever she wished. Right now, Luella could grab the sword that dangled from the sheath on her captor’s hip and drive it right into his back. She could stab and stab until his eyes grew feared and lifeless, and then turn the blade right on herself.
And no one would care.
She could get her revenge and not worry about repercussions, for everyone she knew was now dead. Or would soon be dead if the cries of pain and torment from the few living prisoners were any indication.
Luella could enact her revenge now and risk being felled before she saw it through, or she could wait, just like earlier when she waited to flee. She did it too soon, then. She had been impatient. Now, she knew better. She would wait longer and bide her time.
Years, if she was permitted to live that long. Luella would wait, just to see the smirk of the male before her turn into a grimace of pain as he realized she had taken everything he loved from him.
And he must have someone he loves, even someone as wretched as he, must find solace somewhere, and Luella vowed to take it from him.
With thoughts of revenge clouding her mind, she steeled herself for the journey ahead. It would not be an easy or short road, but she could do it.
She would do it.
One of the soldiers raised a flag attached to a long post. The crest was two elongated points side by side. Fangs.
Another male stood beside him; he had thick, dark hair pulled away from his face in a smattering of tiny, little braids. The male brandished the flag, waving the insignia that was similar to the crest of Serpentis, but where the cold-blooded shifters bore two pointed fangs, the wolven beasts of Nix touted a crest of three pointed hooks, slashing downwards.
"Prima, we’re ready," the one with the Serpentis flag declared. His pupils were little slits, like the snake of his shifted form.
"Very well. Call your men," her captor said.
Again, with the Prima title, she thought.
"Prima," Luella mused under her breath. She had never heard that title before. But from how he led the soldiers and how they answered his call, she wondered what it could possibly mean.
The two males held their flags high in the air before simultaneously driving them into the ground. With a rush of yells and cheers from the soldiers, Luella barely noticed movements from the two that had held the flags.
A loud rip as his leather armor fell away, and the male with the slit-like pupils grew right before her eyes, shifting into a large, green-scaled serpent. He was so big he could open his maw and swallow her with one measly bite. Two fangs protruded from his mouth, and the large serpent hissed once before quickly slithering away.
A grand beast with fur the shade of melted chocolate howled—fur the same color as the dark hair the male with the crest of Nix had born. The wolf shook his large body. A few braids were still stuck in his fur. He shot Luella a look with eyes that were far too human before taking off, pebbles kicking up under his padded paws.
She shrank back, hands pulling against the iron shackles, but it was no use. Her captor, the so-called Prima, flicked the reins against Miria’s hide before taking off in a slow canter. Luella struggled to keep up as the procession moved forward. Her feet tripped and stumbled over jagged rocks and small pebbles, and it was all too much.
Tired and hurt, she wanted to be anywhere but here.
A gasp was torn from her mouth as the horse moved forward with no reprieve.
They made a quick pace from the castle grounds into the awaiting stretch of barren land. Valleys of green grass and flower fields soon cushioned the pads of her feet. She sighed at the softness. Small blessings she never would take for granted again.
Her captor—the Prima, she reminded herself—did not speak again until the sun was high in the sky. Even reaching the beginning of winter, she still felt a small trail of sweat trickle down her back from exertion and the never-ending rays of the sun that beat down overhead.
The sky was cloudless—too perfect of a day for such terror.
They had no shelter in the open like this, and they would not for a while yet if memory served correctly. The valleys would soon turn into a thick forest that bordered Medius.
"We’ll stop here for a rest," her captor yelled over the soldiers, stopping Miria with a tug on the reins.
Luella inwardly sighed in relief.
Thank the gods.
Hopping from the steed, he handed off the reins to an awaiting young male, who darted up from behind. He appeared far too young to be in this army. Younger than Luella. Her heart ached for him.
"Thank you, Ori," the Prima said.
"Yes, Tharen—" The young male jolted back, casting an impish glance to where Luella stood, haggard and chained. His stark red hair strangely offset his tan skin, but it was fitting for his wild appearance. Something in his eyes was still kind, untouched by the horrors of war. He corrected himself. " Prima . Don’t tell my father. He’ll get out his leather belt if he catches wind of my negligence."
The Prima… Tharen . Names had power, and it seems Luella had finally discovered his.
Tharen passed a hand roughly down his face, shooing Ori off with a wave of a hand and impatience on his face.
"So," Luella started. "The supposed Prima has a name."
Tharen leveled her with a harsh look, finger pointing harshly at her. "You will refer to me as Prima or even Master." His eyes dipped to her lips. "If you dare call me by name in front of these men, I’ll make due on my promise to take your tongue."
The threat held less weight now after seeing his slight kindness to the young Ori.
Luella seemed to never learn her lesson. Evil could wear many faces. Just because it dons a soft smile at one point doesn’t mean it’s gone—just hidden. In an attempt to lure you closer and knock down your walls, it lies in wait, hoping for a slip-up.
And she tended to give it ample opportunity.
"Whatever you say, Tharen ," Luella emphasized her captor’s name, a small, sly smile on her lips as if daring him to follow through on his threats.
Anger often reared its head at terrible times, clouding all rational thought—this was one such time.
Luella quickly realized she should have kept quiet and obedient as he told her.
She tripped over her feet in her haste to back up as he advanced toward her. He pulled his dagger from his sheath. She yelped as she fell to the ground, hands unable to catch herself from where they bound in front of her.
Tharen knelt over Luella. Such a large figure, he completely blotted out the light of the sun, casting her in shadow. His arm moved, and she flinched. However, the dagger didn’t move closer to her but snaked down to the hemline of her thin, dirty gown. His fingers skirted over her thighs, and the cool point of the dagger dragged across her skin.
"What are you—" Luella’s words were cut off as she watched him roughly rear the bottommost piece of her gown with the jagged edge of the weapon. Holding up a strip of cloth, he dangled it in front of her face with a triumphant gleam.
"N-no!" she gasped, trying to move her head away.
It was of no use. He firmly gripped her nape, stopping her struggles.
"Defy me again," Tharen dared as he fit his fingers into her jaw, forcing her mouth to open.
The bundle of cloth was shoved between her lips, and she gagged slightly from the harsh treatment. The fabric tasted of iron and dirt, and it pressed against the corners of her lips with harsh force as his fingers worked to deftly tie it off behind her head. Then, he stood, pulling her with him by a hand on her upper arm.
Luella glared at him, even while she was thankful he didn’t cut out her tongue.
Maybe she might die by his hand before the King gets a chance to kill her.