Chapter 32
J A N E
W hen I wake, I’m so disoriented I fully believe I’m sleeping in the small garden we had growing up, half expecting my mother to stand over me while offering some bread for a snack once I woke up after sleeping under a warm sun.
My gaze drifts to the dirt next to me, completely forgetting about everything, even though I know there’s a life to remember.
As my heart rate increases, my mind returns to me.
Soren .
Lifting my head, I look for Anya—she’s awake, sitting up against a tree, the bruising deepening in color on her face, even down into her neck. Trying my best to get back into a seated position, I grunt when digging my elbow into the dirt.
“You slept like the dead,” Anya comments softly.
“My mom would say my body needed it, then.” I finally manage to sit with my back against the tree trunk once more, my body aching so much that every breath is uncomfortable. I definitely kinked my neck lying there. My fingers are freezing, and I stick them between my thighs.
What in the hells would Mom think of me now?
Taking in the scene is disorienting, too, like I forget how to focus my attention. The fire is reduced down to smoke and charred wood, the morning light just barely illuminating the jungle. Many of the men start to rise, some hacking to clear their lungs and others walking off to shit loudly in the forest.
Misery’s hood is dark until the orange light slowly burns again. So if he just sat in the same damn corner all night, his little flickering eyes burned out, does that mean he gets tired? Maybe even rests? Cypress mentioned how weak he is already.How he had to exhaust himself.
Maybe I can find a way to get close to him. Or butter up Blackwell and learn more about Misery. Take advantage of Blackwell’s ego, stroke it just right so he slips a few things.
“Everyone up!” Blackwell shouts, walking through the underbrush. “Jesper is near.”
“ Great ,” Anya mutters.
“Who?”
“The leader of the Order of Ash.”
Blackwell’s gaze focuses on us, pointing two fingers our way and waving his hand. “And separate those two.”
Anya and I are re-positioned by someone grabbing our ropes and yanking us to our feet. We’re taken into the underbrush to relieve ourselves, never going past a totem pole.
I’m able to piss in peace behind a tree, the small reprieve a moment of opportunity. Can I use the solitude for something? Anything? Make a run for it?
You’re not here to escape or be rescued, Jane.
Tying my pants back together with my hands in front of me, my bound arms severely limiting my ability, the man assigned to me drags me back to the camp where they allow me to eat cold meat and drink some weak ale.
The sound of a wagon being pulled makes me look down the wide path we’re camped next to; I’m shoved onto my knees, wincing when it jolts my broken body.
Can they fucking not ?
A man I don’t recognize approaches us all, leading the horse-drawn wagon, a troupe of about fifteen or so armed men accompanying him. I look up at the stranger who stands in front of me as if I’m supposed to be impressed. He has sharp, angular features. Deep-set, obsidian eyes bore into mine. “Jane.” He squats down. “Jane, Jane, Jane .”
Don’t do it. Don’t say something that will incite more pain.
“Looks like you picked her up after tumbling her off a cliff’s edge, and then let her rot in her own waste,” the man comments with disgust before glancing up at Blackwell. “How is her personality? Meek at all?”
There’s an eagerness in his voice, and I’m not sure why he’d care that much. In that, I nearly tell him to pull his cock out of his ass, until it dawns on me— meek . I can play meek. I’ll have the upper hand if he thinks I’m subdued, whoever this man is… probably the one named Jesper, if I had to guess. Channel desperation .
“Soren seemed to have control over her,” Blackwell says. “And she’s definitely not meek. That’s why she’s like that. Hasn’t earned proper clothes.”
Well, fuck you, asshole.
The man tilts his head to the side, his long black hair tied back, and sighs with the drama of someone who enjoys the sound of his own voice. “My name is Jesper, Miss Jane. I’m the leader of the Order of Ash.” His voice drops to a near whisper, his gaze dripping with menace. “Let’s see… are you aware of being immune to fire?”
“ Yes .”
“Did you know your children will inherit that?”
I frown. “Yes.”
Jesper grins, his teeth gleaming. “I see, I see.” He pivots slightly. “There are other Cinders like you. If anything, I’d say you were created just for this purpose.”He glides his hand along the side of my cheek, seemingly examining my face and I do my best not to act as repulsed as I feel. “We’ll probably breed the women and use the few men as foot soldiers. The more are born with these powers, the more Morvock’s legion will rise.” He looks me over, from my sand-covered hair down to my boots. “And I’m rather interested in the female that Morvock needs to rebirth himself with. There’s time for at least one birth from you. Would like to see you cleaned up.”
The threat almost doesn’t even faze me, because I know I wouldn’t let that happen. I’d stab my womb ten times and heal the carnage without even a thought if I got so much as a whiff that he would seriously do that. “I know you need me to be compliant. Rape will not help you there,” I tightly reply.
Be meek, Jane.
“Leave her be,” Misery grits out, his grating voice making me shiver. “You cannot have her yet, Jesper. Not until we are in my lands, where no one can touch us. She is to be un-accosted until then, or else it will mar her rehabilitation.”
At least something is in my favor.
“Now we just have to field the fact that Ritter and his witchy ally will be after Jane,” Blackwell comments, while Jesper looks me over like he’s examining a horse he’s about to purchase. “Shouldn’t be an issue since we made it here safely. Once Tempest gets any insight that Cypress is involved, she will be the last person to help Ritter or Soren; the pirate queen is crafty. She’ll figure it out real fast. And then they’ll be shit out of luck getting to us from her harbor.”
My heart sinks at that statement. What does that mean? Where the fuck are we, anyway? Jesper stands, and I stare at his boots, much like I did to Soren when we first met. There’s hardly a scuff on them.
“Is that why you were delayed?” Jesper asks.
“Partially. We figured it was best to have Ritter and Soren’s men all with Tempest, where they won’t be able to secure passage once the pirate queen learns who they’re working with. Compared to Skull’s Row where they could have taken any ship. It should buy us time. All we need is a little over two weeks before we can pass over to Morvock’s lands. Merciless will be here to assist as well.”
My deep breath spreads my ribs in a painful expanse, my gaze darting all over the sky that stars are slowly fading away from. Oh, shit.
“So who is this other woman?” Jesper asks.
“Anya. One of Soren’s closest followers. She pursued us into the forest and did a terrible job staying hidden. We took her, wondering if we could use her against Jane. Or cut off parts of her and send them to Soren to get him riled up. Take advantage of his rage and let him burn himself first. It seemed like a waste of bait.”
Will these people stop fucking using my friends? Or talking like I’m not right here?
“We need to move,” Misery says. “Secure her at the castle, and then we travel in a fortnight. We shall begin Jane’s mental rehabilitation immediately.”
I nearly snort. Okay . Rehabilitation my ass.
It all begins to move, and I’m chucked into the back of one of two wagons, Anya and I pulled separately. The smell of damp hay fills my nostrils, mixed with the faint metallic tang of blood—mine, maybe hers, or someone else’s. My fingers twitch uselessly, bound too tightly to offer any relief. My world tilts and jolts, and I do everything I can to strategize while I have some version of rest. I have two weeks, according to them. Two weeks to show them that I’m the spawn of Skull’s Row and of a mother who was tougher than the rest, worthy of being the wife of a Zenith .
Two weeks to find these damn sirens, so I can metaphorically put a massive hole in their ship to let it sink, and then focus on returning home .
It’s time to let them know who Jane Ritter is.