38. Onora
Chapter 38
Onora
V arek yanked her close, his alcohol-soaked breath hitting her face. “You’re turning into quite the beautiful prize,” he said, his eyes darkening. All she could see were his horns above his head, the brown of his wings looming out about her. She’d feared this day coming. When he would stop seeing her as a funny little pet and start seeing her as a woman. She was still too young. Far too young.
His finger came along her cheek, and she shuddered.
“There’s no need to fear, sweet thing. My thrall means you’ll enjoy every minute of it.”
She pulled back, whimpering in fear and seeing, to her dismay, that he enjoyed that more. Racking her brain, she tried to find a way out, a way to escape.
He laughed. Cruel and heartless and terrible as he let her go. She stumbled back a step, holding her arms against her. Then he backhanded her so hard she fell to the ground. He removed his belt, and she wondered this time, as she did every time, if the removal was for a beating or something worse.
He came close to her ear, his hot breath hitting it in a way that made her want to vomit. “But you see, the lord says I can’t do anything like that to you. Yet. He needs his special little human for something, and when that’s done, he said I can have you all to myself.”
A lump formed in her throat, but no tears came. They never did anymore.
“But I can discipline you.”
She became lost in the pain and the sound of leather hitting her flesh.
Onora woke with a gasping, hard breath. She sat up, heart racing as she looked around the room. She was in a large bed with dark-blue silk sheets and a heavy velvet blanket. Checking her body, she saw that she was completely healed. The room was dark, with a few mage lights creating a dusky glow that glinted off cave walls. There was a dresser and side tables to match with ornate carvings on the mahogany wood, and next to the bed was an oversized chair with an even more oversized demon sitting in it.
Black hair fell over his face, moving with his puffing breaths and soft snores.
Was this a dream? Had she died and now she was caught in the afterlife, given visions of Dryston to sate her soul for eternity?
She moved closer to the chair and he shifted, rousing slowly, then smiling when he saw her.
“You’re awake,” he said, relief evident.
She nodded. The last full thing she remembered was the dead Hunters in the woods. After that it was a blur of riding on horseback, memories slipping in and out of reality, then being held in his arms.
“How do you feel?” he asked.
“Good, surprisingly. I didn’t think I was going to survive that.”
“You were attacked by Hunters?” His voice was a low growl, the words more a statement than a question.
“Yes. It was a trap. They forged Jackson’s handwriting.”
“I’ll kill them all.”
She coughed. “I already did ... mostly.”
He raised a brow.
“Well, the ones there. Brayden escaped—he’s slimy like that.”
“Then I’ll kill him.”
“Don’t you dare.”
“Or what?” He came to the bed, putting a knee down and leaning over her. She had to resist the urge to grab him for a kiss.
“It’s unwise.”
“I’m afraid I’m only capable of imprudent behavior when it comes to you.”
“Oh?”
His eyes raked over her, and she leaned toward him, right as the door opened. Dryston moved in a flash, standing away from her, and she swallowed, hiding her disappointment. A demon entered the room, one that she faintly recognized from Orc Haven, a male with a sour disposition. His eyes flicked to her briefly, lips tightening.
“Hello, Kalen,” Dryston said.
“The council wants to see you,” Kalen said.
Dryston groaned. “Of course.” He turned to Onora. “Do you feel up to coming to the council meeting?”
“Is she needed at the meeting?” Kalen asked.
Onora agreed with his sentiment, but the way he said it made her narrow her eyes at him. He gave her a quick glare, then fixed his face as he looked back at Dryston.
“Yes,” Dryston said. “They want to discuss what our reaction to the declaration of war against us is. I think Onora has a vested interest in that and could have valuable insight.”
Her stomach dropped. “King Olan did what?”
Dryston grimaced. “He wants any demons in Nemus killed on sight and has declared war against us.”
She felt the blood drain from her face as she gripped the sheets. This was bad. Very bad. She stumbled out of the bed, taking her boots that Dryston handed her from elsewhere in the room, and carefully made herself as presentable as she could. She still looked haggard, but it was to be expected. She wasn’t going to fuss about looks when there was a war about to break out.
She followed Dryston and Kalen out the door. The Darkened City was a marvel. Onora’s eyes swiveled all around them as they walked through the intricate passageways of the cave system. Mage lights hung in sconces on the wall, giving soft glowing light of varying colors.
The first area they came through was clearly the business district. Demons stood at stands, bartering and bargaining, several sailors and merchants of varying races bringing in goods of all kinds. Bards played the lyre and sang, their voices carrying in the hall and twining with one another as they played off each other’s songs, harmonizing and creating a melody that felt like magic itself.
Next, they came to an area that she assumed were schools, as children ran and played, adults keeping watch, while others sat in circles and listened to stories. Then they dipped down, following a winding trail deeper into the cool caves. A waterfall fell on the opposite side, the sound a soothing echo around them.
She heard music on one level, and then work on another and so on and so on as she followed Dryston and the others deeper and deeper into the caves. She received many curious looks, but none hostile—yet. She was certain once they knew who she was and what she’d done, she would need to watch her back.
Dryston and Kalen chatted with the head of the guard as they walked, briefing him of all that happened. Though, Dryston gratefully kept any mention of her part in his capture and almost execution out of the story. She wondered at that, the careful phrasing of everything he said. But she wouldn’t bring it up. She didn’t need to volunteer any of that information.
Finally they came to a set of large double doors and Dryston looked back at her. “This is the council. Let’s see our fate.”
Their fate indeed. She had a horrible feeling that the council would take one look at her and see her guilt. She drew in a deep breath. Cowardice had never held her back before, though, and she wasn’t going to start now.