Chapter 14
The party finally stopped for a break during the evening. They tied their horses to the trees and made a campfire in the middle of the woods. Daiyu was still stuck in the wagon, her wrists bound but her ankles free. She watched the men as they ate dried meat from their sacks and drank water from sheep-skin cannisters. Nobody but Qian, the scarred man, seemed to be watching her.
Daiyu’s stomach growled and she bit her bottom lip to keep from salivating. According to Qian and his goons, she had been unconscious for three days, so it was only natural that she felt like she hadn’t eaten in years. She stared at the men who drank and ate happily, and her stomach continued to shrivel within itself, rumbling louder and louder.
Finally, when she couldn’t take it anymore, she inched closer to the door of the wagon. “I’d like to eat and drink a little,” she asked the closest man. “I’ll starve at this rate.”
The man glanced at her and then at Qian. “Well? I’m not giving my share to her.”
“Let her starve,” Bao said bitterly, glaring at her from his spot against a tree. “It’ll teach her a lesson.”
Some of the men snickered, and Daiyu’s face flushed with embarrassment. “That’s not fair,” she said, searching the scruffy faces for someone kind. “If you truly intend to use me as a symbol, then I hardly see why I have to be half-dead for your goal.”
One of the horses stretched its legs and began to pee where it stood, and that caused Bao’s face to twist into a grin as he jerked a thumb at it. “Why not give her some horse piss?”
“Excuse me?” Daiyu reeled back, her face paling.
Qian chuckled at Bao and chewed the end of his beef jerky. “You sure are bitter, huh?”
“I really don’t feel that it’s necessary or appropriate to let her starve,” a cold voice broke through the sniggers and cruel laughs sent in her direction.
Qian turned to the young man who had spoken. He sharpened his sword against a smaller blade, his back pressed against a tree and an expressionless look on his face. He had a shock of dark gold hair that he cropped short, which was unlike the fashion in Huo, where everyone kept their hair long. His eyes were a vibrant green, and his skin was tanned to a deep honey-gold. Almost immediately, Daiyu recognized him as a foreigner—either Kadian or Sanguine. She was surprised she hadn’t noticed him before, but it could have been because he seemed to keep himself distant from the others.
“If we’re to sell her to General Keung, then it won’t do to have her starved and dying,” the young man continued. His small blade slid across the edge of his already sharpened sword, and the metal ground against the other with a screech. He met Qian’s stare evenly. “It might lower her cost. Furthermore, how will he believe she’s truly Drakkon’s bride-to-be if she looks like a common, starved peasant?”
“Atreus,” Qian said with a pointed look. “You’re not the leader of this group. I will do as I see fit.”
“I’m only advising you.” The foreigner gave Daiyu a once-over and rose to his feet; it was then that she realized he was tall—maybe as tall as Muyang. He slid his swords into the baldric across his back and looked down at Qian with a distasteful sneer. “What you do with her is of no interest to me.”
Daiyu watched as the young man spun around and walked over to his horse, which he began to brush with his palms. Qian spat in his direction, his own mouth twisted into a scowl. “Little bastard thinks he can order me around?”
“He did make a good point,” one of the men murmured, his antsy gaze flicking from Daiyu and then to the scarred man. “What if we don’t get a fair share because she’s in bad condition?”
“I agree too … to some extent,” Bao grumbled, touching his bandages again. “It’ll all be to waste if we don’t get a good price.”
Qian blew out air and waved to one of the men. “Fine. Give her the meat and some water.”
Daiyu straightened where she sat. Her stomach continued to growl as one of the men approached her with slices of dried meat in his grimy hands. He crossed his forearms on the railing of the wagon and grinned at her.
“You sure are pretty.” He held the meat a few inches from her face. “I want to see that mouth of yours work.”
“E-Excuse me?” Daiyu pulled her legs in front of her to create more distance between herself and the man. The shadows of the night cast shadows across his gruff face, warping his leering expression into something more menacing. “Stop with your jokes and untie me.” Her voice came out small and squeaky, and she hated the weakness in it.
“We can’t untie you, so eat out of my hands, my lady.” He said the last part with a mocking lilt in his voice.
Daiyu licked her lips and shot a glance at the other men, but they weren’t paying her any attention, and by the way they all acted, she doubted they cared. She had no savior here. Not even the foreigner who had helped her case was stepping forward to aid her.
The man waved the meat and raised his eyebrows. “You don’t want to eat?”
“You can place it on the floor of the wagon,” she said uneasily.
“Where’s the fun in that?” He held a water cannister in his other hand and held it up for her. “Or would you rather drink first?”
As if on cue, her stomach rumbled again. She pressed her lips together. Never in her life had she been so humiliated—even the pond incident with Muyang hadn’t been this bad.
“Well?”
Daiyu leaned forward and took a slice of dried meat into her mouth. The man’s lips curved into a grin. She barely tasted the salted food. The back of her eyes stung with mortification and she hated the way the man was staring down at her. Like he was imagining something much different.
After she ate the last of the food, he grabbed her mouth roughly and teased it open with his fingers. “The things I would—” he began.
She bit down—hard. Metallic blood filled her mouth and the man screamed, yanking his hand back, but not before she scraped a layer of his skin off with her bare teeth. He dropped the cannister of water on the floor of the wagon, so while he wailed and cursed, she spat out the blood, dropped forward and took the rim of the cannister with her mouth. She tried to drink from it and bit back a scream when the man grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled her head back.
His face was purple with rage, and the veins on his throat and forehead bulged. “You bitch.”
He slapped her and she slammed into the railing of the wagon, her head cracking against the uneven wood. Her vision darkened and she licked the inside of her cheek, where she could taste her own iron blood.
“Let her go,” he growled.
Qian held the man’s wrist, halting him from attacking her further. “I never said you could hit her. We need her in good condition.”
“The bitch almost bit my finger off!”
“Then let this be a lesson not to get so damn close,” the scarred man snapped, releasing the other man. “If you want to hit her, hit her body, not the face.”
The man cradled his wounded hand close to his chest and shot her a dirty look before scampering away. Qian watched him, his lips flattened into a firm line. When he turned to her, there was a warning on his face. “Don’t attack my men. Next time you do, I’ll have you strung naked in the back of this wagon. Do you understand?”
Daiyu swallowed, her mouth and throat dry.
He leaned against the railing, the wood groaning beneath his weight. “Do you understand?”
“Y-yes.”
“Good.”
He pushed away from the wagon and went back to the campfire. Daiyu lay back down on the foul-smelling hay, her shoulders aching from being forced behind her back for so long, and the skin on her wrists burning from the ropes.
The night sky was littered with tiny, sparkling stars, and she could only stare at them silently.
A week passed of simply traveling with the band of rugged bandits. During that time, Daiyu was mostly the center of jeers and ill intention. She was given enough food not to pass out, but not enough to be full every night. She hadn’t made any attempts to leap off the wagon and make a run for it because when they started traveling through the mountains, she didn’t want to risk dying by flinging herself into the sharp, uneven terrain below.
The more they traveled, the colder the climate became, and it was then that she noticed that all the men were dressed for winter in thick cloaks and furs, and that she was the only one in her flimsy, silk nightdress. They were likely going up north, where the weather was colder and wintery. It was also where Muyang was and likely where this General Keung person was.
It was only when they left the mountainside and were camped in a forest that Daiyu even considered running. The night air was cool against her skin, and Qian was more preoccupied with scolding one of his drunk bandits than he was with watching her. Daiyu inched closer to the edge of the wagon. The other men were either eating and tending to their weapons or talking amongst themselves in hushed voices. No one seemed to be paying her any attention.
Daiyu twisted her wrists against the ropes. She had been loosening her constraints against a snagged, splintered part of the wagon that she covered with hay for the past week. She had poked her wrist and fingers against the rough wood multiple times, and her flesh was sore and swollen from being pricked and prodded for so long. But her pain was worth it because when she shimmied her shoulders and yanked at her hand, the rope began slipping—just barely—down to her thumb. She tried to keep her face expressionless as she continued to slide her fingers free.
The skin of her wrists was raw and bleeding, but she barely glanced at them, her attention instead drawn to the rest of the men. Once again, they were ignoring her. They had become accustomed to her silence and her captivity—drunk on arrogance that she would never try anything against them.
Daiyu silently hauled herself over the railing of the wagon and landed on her feet by the wheels. Her breath came out strained, and her numb legs wobbled from not being used for over a week. The cold, damp earth felt rough against her bare feet, and she prayed it wouldn’t slow her down. Her muscles screamed as she kept herself low and backed away from the men. Her heart raced and adrenaline rushed through her veins. It didn’t matter where she ran—she needed to escape as far as possible from them.
She continued to creep backward and slipped behind a tree, her breaths coming out in small, raspy gasps that sounded too loud to her own blood-rushed ears. She froze when a twig snapped beneath her feet, but nobody moved—they continued conversing with one another.
Finally, she turned and hurried through the forest, trying as hard as she could not to barrel through the branches and bushes. Her breath puffed out in white streams as she jogged forward.
Someone shouted from behind her, and she dropped all her carefulness and sprinted. Branches ripped through her hair and cut her arms and legs, but she didn’t let that slow her down. Her thighs and calves burned with exertion, and her lungs stung with every breath she took. She could hear grunts and shouts intensify behind her, and the snapping of branches and twigs. She didn’t even register the pain of her feet—as fallen branches, bramble, and thorns cut through them.
She didn’t dare turn around. She didn’t dare lose focus on moving one foot in front of the other. She didn’t dare?—
Something—or someone—tackled her from behind and she shot forward, landing hard on her elbows and knees. She tried clawing the earth as the man grabbed a hold of her shoulder and neck. Tears blurred her vision and she kicked and screamed as he hauled her to her feet.
She had been so close.
So close to escaping from these rugged, evil men.
The man slapped her across the face, his breathing labored and his face twisted anger. She fell to the side, her face throbbing. He clamped a hand tightly on her bicep—tight enough to leave marks—and yanked her toward him. He was screaming something at her, but she couldn’t hear him, not from the shrillness of her own shrieks.
He threw her over his shoulder and began heading back. She punched his back and flailed her legs, trying to hit any part of him. Tears of frustration and fear blurred her vision. Qian’s threat boomed in her head, and she didn’t want to imagine what he would do to her now that she tried to escape. Would he attack her? Torture her? Strip her naked as punishment?
When the men regrouped at their campsite, the man holding her flung her to the ground. She crashed like a rag doll, the back of her head cracking against the cold earth, and a stab of pain shot up her back from an especially sharp rock she had landed on. She rolled over on her hands and knees, her entire body shivering.
“What do we do with her, boss?” one of the men said, spitting on the ground by her hands. “I say we take her as she is.”
“Don’t you dare touch me!” she spat, struggling to her feet. The world was spinning, and the group of men appeared to be doubling. When she blinked, her vision righted itself, but the darkness of the night made them look taller and more formidable. She had never felt so small and vulnerable in her life.
Qian stepped forward, his scarred face appearing more grotesque in the moonlight. His lips curled back. “I warned you.”
“Stay away!” Daiyu backed away from him, but the men had created a ring around her. Each of their faces were carved with cruelty and salacious expectance. Her breaths heaved out of her body in quick succession. More adrenaline rushed through her body, and she curled her fists together to fight the first man who jumped on her.
Before any of them could inch closer, something moved quickly from behind Qian. One moment, the man was closing in on her, the next moment, something sharp poked out from his neck. Daiyu could barely blink back her confusion, time seeming to slow as Qian’s face distorted in dazed confusion. Blood coated the tip of the blade sticking out from him. He reached forward to touch it, but the sword was yanked free before he could.
It all happened in a split second.
Just as Qian fell to his knees, the foreigner, wielding the now blood-stained sword, swung his weapon at the man beside him. The man barely saw it coming. The weapon bit into his neck and severed it easily. A spray of blood followed, raining down on Atreus, but he was already moving to the next bandit.
Daiyu watched in stunned silence as the men moved in slow motion to react, their hands fumbling over the hilts of their own weapons. He was too fast, though, and even when the others swarmed him, he disarmed them quickly. A stab here, a jab there—he lopped off limbs in seconds.
In the chaos and confusion, Daiyu backed away and scrambled to where the horses were tied. She wouldn’t let this random act of infighting stop her from escaping. The horses were stamping and neighing, their ears shifting toward the screams and shouts. When she neared the first horse, she patted its neck and tried to calm it down.
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” she said, her fingers dancing between the soft mane. “It’s fine!”
When the horse calmed down enough where she didn’t think it would stamp her to death, she began working on untying the ropes keeping it tied to a tree. Her hands shook violently, and she wasn’t sure if it was from panic or fear.
Breathing out deeply, she undid the knot and tried reaching for the saddle. She had never ridden a horse before, and the creature loomed over her. She wondered briefly if it knew she was inexperienced, and a shiver ran down her spine at the thought of being flung off the horse or dragged by the reins.
“You don’t,” a ragged breath said from behind her, “need to do that.”
Daiyu whirled on her feet to find Atreus a few feet away from her, his sword stuck to the ground and his chest heaving up and down. Blood drenched him completely, coating his face, his clothes, and his boots. She stared beyond him, to the corpses littering the campsite. Most of them were missing their hands and chunks of their faces, their blood fresh and appearing black in the dark of night.
Her blood ran cold and she looked back at the young man. She raised her hands slowly, her gaze never leaving his sword. “What do you want?”
She expected him to laugh at her and steal her away, or attack her with his weapon, but he did none of those things. He breathed out deeply, spat a glob of blood onto the ground, and lowered himself into a short bow.
“I’d like to escort you back to His Majesty, my lady.”
Daiyu blinked back, waiting for him to spring forward and slice her neck. Her body was stiff in anticipation of an attack, but it didn’t come. The only noise between them was the buzzing of insects, the chirr of crickets, and his heavy breathing.
“What did you say?” she finally breathed. “You want to take me back to … His Majesty? Do you mean Drakkon Muyang or … or whoever you serve?”
“I serve Drakkon Muyang.” Atreus raised his head, and in the moonlight, his green eyes appeared softer. “I was sent on a mission to investigate a group of thugs working closely with the rebel cause. Never in a million years did I imagine they would try to kidnap one of His Majesty’s women. I’m sorry I couldn’t save you earlier. I was undecided on whether to continue with my mission or abort it. In the end, I couldn’t allow them to harm you.”
“Oh.” All the fight seemed to drain from her body as relief took over. She wanted to sink to the ground and cry, but she instead steadied herself by grabbing onto a nearby tree. Her shoulder sagged against it, and she closed her eyes. “Oh. I see.”
“His Majesty is located farther north, in Fort?—”
“Wait.” She held her hand up. “You want to take me to the emperor?”
He tilted his head to the side. “Well, yes. He is located a week’s ride from here, and it would be faster to go to him than to go back to the palace.”
“No.” Daiyu was already shaking her head. She tried not to look at the dead bodies surrounding them or at the blood staining the grass and trees. “This is the perfect opportunity for me to run as far away as possible from His Majesty and all of his people. Don’t you see? I wouldn’t have been in this mess if I wasn’t associated with him.”
Atreus’s golden brows drew together, a drop of blood sliding down between them. “You wish to … flee? From His Majesty?”
“Tell him I died.” She nodded to the dead, mangled bodies. “That I was killed in the fray. That you—that you tried desperately to save me, but in the end, one of the men took me and killed me before you could do anything?—”
“No.”
“—and that you’re—” She paused, taken aback as the young man stared at her levelly. “No? But, but it doesn’t hurt you to say that you?—”
“That I failed to protect His Majesty’s woman?” he scoffed, his expression pinching together. “I can see no bigger failure than to have you die when you were so close to me. Furthermore, I will not lie to His Majesty.”
Daiyu’s chest constricted once more, and this time with apprehension. “Please, I can’t—I can’t go back to him! It’s better this way; for him to believe that I’m dead. Please, you must tell him?—”
“I will not lie to him.” He straightened, and she inched back at the sight of his full height. This was still a warrior who had killed a dozen men single-handedly, and she had a feeling that it wasn’t in her best interests to argue with him.
“Please,” she begged, tears filling her eyes. “I can’t go back to him.”
“Why? Are you afraid of him?”
She thought of Muyang’s dark eyes, of his wicked beauty, and the way his soft mouth would curve up into a cruel smile. He was terrifying. Not only because he was captivatingly beautiful, but he was too powerful. She could still remember the way he had held a blade to her neck, ready to kill her if she answered incorrectly. Yes, she was afraid of him.
She shivered to think about what he would do to her once he found out she had almost been used against him. Would he kill her so nobody else could shame him like that?
“He will not harm you,” Atreus said, watching her carefully. He yanked a handkerchief from his pocket and cleaned his blade. Soon, the small cloth was stained with blood. “He will be happy to see that you are safe.”
“Happy?” Her chest rose, and she couldn’t imagine the emperor being happy over anything. Certainly not her well-being.
The young man sighed. “My lady, I do not wish to forcefully bring you back to His Majesty. I think that is cruel, especially after what you’ve been through. But it’s my duty to return you to him, so you must comply.”
She couldn’t run from him, not only because he was strong enough to kill so many men, but because he knew she was alive, and she was certain he would tell Muyang even if she did manage to escape from him. She didn’t have much of a choice, she realized with a sinking heart. Not if she wanted to keep her family safe.
More tears threatened to spill down her face, but she quickly pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes and inhaled sharply, trying to calm her erratic breathing. It would be fine, she told herself. She’d find another way.
“We’ll have to take one of the men’s cloaks,” Atreus said, his attention skating to the corpses. “I’ll have to see which one is in better condition?—”
Daiyu began walking toward Qian, her stomach sinking further and further into the pits of her feet as she accepted her fate. She stopped by the scarred man. Blood was already crusting over the fatal wound on his neck, and he was holding his throat as if to stem the bleeding. But his eyes were glassy and pinned to the sky. She wondered, briefly, if he feared death before taking his last breath.
“My lady?”
She dropped down beside the corpse and tentatively peeled back his clothes, her hands skimming over his waist. Her fingers found what she was looking for and she yanked back the dragon dagger Muyang had entrusted her with. Blood spotted the hilt of the blade, and the edge of it was filmy with grease—Qian would sometimes use the dagger to eat with.
“I might as well take this with me,” she said, holding the dagger up for Atreus to see.
“He gave that to you?”
“Yes—” She turned around to find Atreus reach down to his boot. Before she could ask him what he was doing, he pulled out an identical weapon.
A grin was spread on his face. “He must like you if he gave it to you.”
“He didn’t give it to me.” She rose to her feet, her stomach twisting at the smell of iron pervading the air. “Anyway, we should head out.”
“Of course, my lady.”
They had a long journey ahead of them, Daiyu thought with a long sigh. She had been so close to freedom, and yet … it always seemed to slip from her grasp.