6. Onora
Chapter 6
Onora
O nora kept to the shadows of the trees, her feet soft and light, silent as any creature of the wood. Dryston was far enough ahead that he wouldn’t hear her. His bow was in one hand, a quiver of arrows on his back. He didn’t look alert, but having it drawn made her question what he was doing out in the woods. Hunting? Or something more sinister?
Dryston had left early, and she’d only noticed because of her own fairly sleepless night and the fact that he was down the hall from her. He’d grabbed a bit of sweetbread from Aife and then headed into the woods outside the city. He’d been hiking for hours now, following an old, worn path with intent.
She’d wondered a few times if trailing him this long and deep into the woods was worth it, but considering how far he was going, and remembering his words from the night before, she was on edge.
“I want to continue the work of my father ...”
Shadows burst from her hands as anger thrashed through her anew. His father. The one who had ambushed Venatu when he’d come, claiming it was a peacekeeping mission. His father, the one whose violence had gotten her old mentor killed defending the human stronghold. His father, a male no better than the Cruel Lord he’d deposed.
She remembered that day clearly. She’d been seventeen, not quite old enough to go on missions, younger than all the first-year recruits. Her mentor, Hadley, a woman who had taken her under her wing since Amherst took her in, told her that the new demon lord was coming, along with his wife and their extended family of adults they called a colony, on a peacekeeping mission. Everyone had been on edge, but Lord Kian had come a few times before and convinced the King that he truly wanted peace. He had to bring his colony to perform a secret and sacred ritual in the woods to untie the magical ley lines under a temple and allow the elves to use it again.
Onora had woken each night leading up to it, screaming in terror and Hadley had started sleeping in her room as a comfort. She was like an older sister, as dear to her as Jackson.
After a few days of negotiations, the horns of the citadel sounded, and the best Hunters were sent to the forest to defend against the attack from the demons. The demons had all been killed, but so were so many Hunters. Hadley included.
Finally, a clearing appeared and in it was a small cabin next to a stream. She hung by a tree, hiding behind it as he approached, taking in the entire area. He had a solemn expression on his face as he walked around, running his hand along the wood of the cabin before opening the door and entering. She darted around the trees until she could sneak up to the building and sneak around, looking in the window. It was small but cozy, with a bed and a homemade quilt on it, a small bookshelf that was empty, some pots and pans and a small stove and washbasin. Dryston sat on the bed, looking around, stricken.
She was lost in the scene, the image, the expressions crossing over his face. There was something like regret and longing there, an emotion so deep that it felt ... human. She swallowed and tried to ignore that pang of empathy that reared its ugly head too often around him.
“Demons will mimic human behavior and emotions to pull you under their thrall,” Amherst had taught them early on. “They will try to ingratiate you to their good graces and pull you into their tangled web of lies because they know our emotions are a great threat to ourselves. Never trust a demon’s sadness or kindness or happiness—and especially not what they call love.”
But Dryston had no audience. He wasn’t trying to fool her or put on a show.
“He’s quite handsome when he’s lost in thought, isn’t he?”
Onora whipped her head around at the loud, but flutey, voice that came from behind her. It was a satyr she’d seen in town. He played the lyre at the tavern at night. His long blond hair tangled with antlers, where gems and shining chains swooped between.
Her heart crashed against her ribs.
Shit.
Shit.
She was going to be found out by Dryston.
Dryston stood, and Onora ducked down below the window, receiving a chuckle from the satyr as he walked forward to the door where Dryston met him.
“You have an admirer,” he said, and Onora wanted to die.
She looked around for an easy exit, any way that she could flee, and hoped that the description the satyr gave him was bad enough to give her plausible deniability.
She stood and was about to run when a strong hand clamped down on her shoulder and a shiver ran through her body.
“Onora ...” Suspicion dripped from Dryston’s voice, and she turned to see it reflected in his eyes. Cold and calculating.
She drew in a deep breath. “Fancy meeting you here.”
He cocked his head to the side. “I was about to say the same thing.”
“Who’s your friend?” the satyr asked, popping his head around Dryston’s wings.
“I’m Lieutenant Onora,” she responded, not taking her eyes off Dryston.
“A Hunter?” The satyr gave a low whistle. “What did you do to piss her off, Drys?”
Dryston gave him a dull look. “Why don’t you go inside and start packing up, Silenus? I’ll handle her.”
“Oh, I bet you will,” Silenus said, innuendo dripping like honey from his tone, eliciting a sharp look from Dryston, which he ignored. He gave a broad smile to Onora and stepped forward, taking her hand and bowing to kiss the back of it. She raised her brows, too startled by the gentlemanly conduct that she didn’t know how to react. That was not a move often used on her by males of any race. Usually they approached her in fear and trembling, or with such inflated egos that the slightest prick of her tongue and they deflated into a blubbering mess. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lieutenant. I’m Silenus.”
“Likewise,” Onora croaked out, and Dryston huffed a laugh.
Silenus sauntered off, going into the house, and started placing items in the backpack he carried.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
“How about you answer that question first?”
“I’m not the one raiding a cabin in the woods.”
“Neither am I. And I wouldn’t say Silenus is, even if it would get him riled up, and I greatly enjoy doing that.”
He smirked, and the tension in her gut eased while her chest tightened in an entirely different and more discomforting way.
She swallowed. “I was scouting the woods and saw you, so I decided to see what you were up to.”
He squinted his eyes, and she didn’t believe for one second that he believed her. “This is my brother’s old cabin. I’m gathering the last of his valuables to take back to The Darkened City.”
She peered into the cabin again. She’d heard a lot about Kaemon and his human bride. He’d been living in the woods for close to ten years, keeping mostly to himself and running under the radar of the Hunter’s Guild. Then a man came to the guild, claiming that a demon had kidnapped his niece and had her under his thrall.
They’d been captured but escaped, killing many of the Hunters. Before any retaliation could happen, an alliance was secured with King Leeth of the elves, providing them with protection.
Onora had been sent to be a ranger for their group on the trip to find Evolis and told by Amherst to keep an eye out for any damning evidence. She’d spent so much time with Dryston, Kaemon, and Enid, waiting for their facade to slip.
She’d found no evidence.
“Find anything interesting in the woods?” he asked her, crossing his arms and cocking his head to the side.
She shook her head. “Nothing out of the norm.”
Except demons roaming freely. It was startling to behold. She hadn’t seen that since the occupation, when people cowered in fear at the presence of demons. Now, the people of Orc Haven seemed to have forgotten all of that.
“Well, good luck out there, Lieutenant. Call if you need anyone to protect you in the big bad woods.” The corner of his mouth twitched at a smile and her eye twitched in anger.
He had once knocked her out of the way and saved her. Probably. She wouldn’t let him know that he did. She still insisted that she could have saved herself. But he knew it riled her up, and he liked to bring it up.
“I don’t need your help, now or ever.” She turned and stalked into the woods, debating whether to leave and head into town or stay. She decided to stay. Dryston could be up to anything, and she wasn’t about to leave him now.
Hours passed of her hanging in the woods, waiting for them to be done. They left with very little, but she’d heard them laughing and joking, and she assumed they’d been wasting time. Her time, at least. Quietly she followed them back into town, where Dryston left the items with another demon, the one who had been with him the first day, and then he took out a letter and left the inn.
She weaved through the people, using whatever she could to cover her as she trailed him through the bustling city and to the post office, where he dropped the letter off. She needed to know what was in it. Correspondence to his home?
He left, and she followed him, noting the looks others gave him. He was big and foreboding, but no more so than the average orc. Still, his wings and horns and tail stood out, and his cocky grin that he flashed at females and males alike made them stammer and blush, and she rolled her eyes.
Then he dipped between buildings, and she let out a curse, rushing forward to find an empty alleyway.
Fuck.
How had she lost him so quickly? There was no apparent exit, and she was certain she would have seen if he had flown. She jogged to the back, finding only a wall, despite her attempts to find an exit or place to scale it.
She turned, halting and letting out a gasp as she came face to face with him.
He flashed her a smile, but it wasn’t the dazzling and flirty one he’d given the others. No, this one was harsh—a mask all its own.
“If I didn’t know better, Lieutenant, I’d say you were stalking me.” He turned, taking one heavy step toward her.
She took a careful one back. She had somehow managed to get herself blocked into the corner of an alleyway with her greatest threat. “I’m merely curious.”
“Oh? I can think of two reasons you’d be following me. One, my roguish charm has your knickers in a twist”—he chuckled at her angry expression—“or two, you’re plotting my murder.”
“Maybe I’m trying to be your friend?” The words sounded ridiculous to her own ears and his following laughter made her clench her jaw.
He took two more steps forward, and she took another back, his proximity making her alarmingly aware of how much larger he was than her.
“Or maybe it’s reconnaissance for the guild. Keeping watch on the Lord of Shadows.”
He was close now, too close, and she took another step back, hitting the wall. She said nothing, afraid the sound of her hammering heart would give any lie away.
He stepped in closer now, one hand bracing the wall, encasing her as he leaned down so their faces were close.
“I don’t mind. I certainly could have a much worse Hunter than you following me. And I can’t say I don’t understand the orders to do it.”
“Then why are you cornering me in the alleyway?” She breathed, unsure if her racing heart was fear or something else far more embarrassing.
“Because I’d like your assurance that you’ll leave my family and colony alone.”
She raised her brows. “You’re on orc land, Dryston. You’ll be fine. But you know the laws. If any of you step into the human realm, you’ll be dead before your next breath.”
He leaned closer, his body so near that it blocked out the sun above, the halo around his horns lighting up like a fire. His wings spread out, long and strong. It was meant to intimidate, and her thundering pulse was a testament to its effectiveness.
“You harm anyone in my family, Onora, and I won’t hesitate to snap that pretty little neck of yours.”
He was serious, very serious. The hard lines of his face screamed resolve. But the way his eyes trailed to her lips, lingering as he drew in a deep and labored breath in, told her enough of his other feelings on the matter.
How much they mirrored her own conflicting emotions toward him.
Hate and lust. Passion in equal measure.
She smirked, making him frown. “Ohhhh,” she crooned, “you think I’m pretty?”
Then she took her dagger, and, in one swift motion, lodged it in his shoulder.
He let out a curse, and she snaked around him, taking several quick steps backward toward the exit.
“You little heathen,” he seethed.
“You’ll heal in five minutes. Don’t be a baby.”
“You stabbed me,” he growled.
“Threaten me again and I won’t miss your heart next time.”
“It’s not a threat, it’s a promise.”
She rolled her eyes. “Cute.”
She turned and sprinted into the busy streets again, clenching her trembling fists. Images flashed in her mind, memories she’d long buried, reaching their hand beyond the grave.
Suddenly, she felt like that little girl again. The feel of Varek’s bruising hands on her arms, yanking her about. She could feel the iron shackle around her throat, digging in. She could hear the screams of other girls, unlucky enough to be older than her and more appealing than her. Her stomach roiled, and she darted into an empty alley to empty her stomach.
She needed to get a grip. Usually, she could separate her memories and emotions from the rest of her. Locked away in a glass case where she could peer in, but they could never reach her. She was objective, cool and collected, unflappable.
But Dryston had a way of unsettling her in every way. His threats felt empty, but they were too close to ones she’d heard ages ago.
She came to The Tipsy Tavern, where Brayden, Andrea, and Jackson were sitting at a table, talking. They stopped when they saw her and Andrea stood, concerned as she came to her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.
“You’re white as a ghost,” Brayden said.
Well, fuck.
“I ate something that upset my stomach,” she lied.
Part of her thought she should tell them what Dryston said to her, the threat to snap her neck.
Another part of her stalled. It was no more serious a threat than she’d made to him.
She cleared her throat. “Dryston sent a letter off to someone today. It had his official seal on it.”
“Did you see who it was addressed to?” Jackson asked.
She shook her head. “No, but?—”
She halted as the doors opened and Dryston walked in. Her heart thrashed against her ribs, and she had to remind herself to breathe. The sun hit his wings, lighting up orange around him, the clawed tips rising almost to the ceiling. His eyes landed on her, verdant and intense. He smirked, pulling a dagger up—her dagger—and placing it in his boot.
She gritted her teeth. Yeah, she probably shouldn’t have left that on him. Was he going to accuse her of attacking him unprovoked? She was following him. This could spell trouble for them if he did.
Instead, he went to the bar instead, asked Aife for something, showing her the wound in his shoulder and she brought him out an ointment. He thanked her, heading for the stairs and giving Onora one last glance before heading up the stairs.
“How does he have your dagger?” Brayden asked, a bite in his tone that made Onora whip her head to him.
“I must have dropped it,” she said.
No one looked like they believed her.
Brayden gave a chagrined smile, leaning back and observing her with an unnerving intensity. “I heard tale that the two of you were seen in the garden together last night, late and all alone.”
Who the fuck would have seen them and told Brayden?
“I was getting fresh air, and he followed me out.”
Brayden raised a brow. “Someone said he was awfully close to you.”
“He’s a flirt. I can’t seem to get him to stop. It was nothing, though.”
“It makes me uncomfortable how much his attention is fixed on you.”
“Me, too. But it’s to our benefit. We need to keep an eye on him, and I have previous experience with him. So maybe instead of interrogating me, we can keep doing our jobs.”
Brayden’s jaw flexed. “Take the day off tomorrow. I’ll trail him.” She opened her mouth to protest, but he held his hand up. “I’ll take Avery. You need a break. Get some rest.” He said the last part with concerned care, how he used to talk to her before his ego made him hate her. She didn’t want to take a rest and a break. But she also knew arguing wouldn’t help her convince anyone she wasn’t under his thrall.
“Fine,” she said.