CHAPTER FOUR
TANNOR
I’ve been reduced to grasping trees as I grimace in agony. Lifting my foot, just to take pressure off it, just to give myself a breather. The pain was intense, and it spiked into my knee. All my attempts to remove the thorn from my foot failed, but it mattered little. I’ve had fifteen hours of freedom. I’ve also had no sleep and my mind is sluggish. Exhaustion creeped through my veins despite my desperate need to keep going.
I’ve spent years planning this escape. I just needed the right woman. Avoiding the older, rabid ones, the ones who wouldn’t trust me from the moment they brought him into their homes.
No. I needed a girl in white. A virginal, sweet thing with wide eyes.
The lady had been perfect. Short, a little plump, with soft curves under her white gown. I could certainly overpower her, even with her magic. I’d seen the tenderness in her when I watched her from my cage, how she studied the men. There was plushness in her eyes and when she’d Helio sent to get treated for his wound, I knew she was the one.
The first night would be harsh. I knew I would need to bear the beatings and the fucking and the branding. But she’d surprised me. She’d sat there in her lovely gown smelling of roses and apricots and watching me with a warm gaze. Ordering dinner for me. Laughable. Like I was a human and not a caged thing. She’d made it so easy. Left the poker lingering against her fireplace. Sat down when I offered her a chair, as if we were to enjoy a pleasant dinner and engage in conversation.
She was a bit of a fool, but she was exactly what I needed.
It was the only reason I didn’t kill her. She’d been… kind. I’d not experienced kindness in my life, and it startled the fuck out of me. When her face broke the plate and a trickle of blood seeped from her cheek, I felt an odd sensation. Like I’d done something wrong.
Her face made me pause. She was interesting to look at with her open mouth and curly hair, and the lashes painting her eyes. Before, when I’d watched her from my cage, there was no denying the desire flushing into my cock. I’d been so angry at myself and at my body, hardly able to speak. She’d not noticed, which I was grateful for. She assumed it was my anger at my predicament. Couldn’t be further from the truth. When she’d used her magic and forced me to move, I had no choice but to hunch over simply to cover my erection. If she sensed it, she gave no indication of it. After she slumped over unconscious, I stared at her hands. Her nails were painted in a golden shimmer. She had lovely hands, strong and wide.
It was a task to shake myself off, and I moved quickly, inhaling food, desperate to fill my stomach. We weren’t fed for three days before a potential customer arrived at the pits. It weakened us and thus we were docile and lethargic. There was so much food on her table, I didn’t know where to begin. I simply stuffed my mouth with whatever I could reach. Each delicacy she’d ordered was more delicious than the one before. It made me pause once more, just to look at her. She wasn’t moving, but she was breathing. I didn’t realize I was studying her as I chewed on the drumstick.
She was young, likely twenty-two, with heavy breasts and slightly round at the waist but her arms were muscled. She was a warrior, despite her predilection for flowing gowns. There was an enigmatic feeling to her. She was both harsh and soft.
My cock had stirred.
Furious at myself for finding her attractive, I’d tossed the chicken and shuffled across the room to unchain myself with the poker. Admittedly, I had little knowledge of how to do that and I cut myself badly in the attempt. However, after a few tugs, I was free. My wrists were badly chaffed, as were my ankles. Years of wearing the chains and constantly getting into trouble in the pit had done that.
I didn’t care. I was free.
After emptying one of her pillows, I used the sack to fill it with food and water. Inside of her dressing room, I was stunned by the number of gowns she owned. I never beheld so much soft fabric. My fingers lingered on one dress, grasping the skirt and pressing it against my nose. It was the best scent I’d ever smelled.
From the dining table, she moaned softly. I’d lingered too long. Desperate for a weapon, I found a small knife and with quick steps and bleeding blood all over her carpet; I moved to the balcony. Pausing, I’d looked at her one last time. The likelihood of ever seeing her again was slim, but I would recall how she’d offered me food. Angry at my own foolish thoughts, I turned and jumped onto the balcony.
The first few hours were a mad dash, as if all the women haunted me. When the lady woke, she would report me missing and convey how I had attacked her. It would release the hordes of hunters and trackers. But, as the hours passed, and I traversed deeper into the forest, I heard no hounds. Or horses. There was nothing but stillness amongst the trees. Exhaustion frayed my senses, and I tripped over a rock. Attempting to find my footing, I smashed into a giant torn bush. A scream was ripped from my mouth when a spine lodged itself into my bare foot.
I collapsed back, scratched and bruised, falling to the ground as I clutched my leg. It seeped blood and there was the awful spine, at least an inch and a half buried in my heel. With trembling fingers, I tried to yank it out, but I would need tools.
“Fuck—” I groaned, as I used the small water sack to clean my foot.
There was a need to yell in frustration and anger. I held it in, feeling the sense of loneliness erupt within me with such force I shuddered.
I wished for my wings, for I wouldn’t be able to walk for much longer like this. But my wings had been surgically stuffed inside of my body when I was a boy, and I didn’t know how to sprout them.
Desperate for a reprieve, I slid over the forest floor, hiding between two tree trunks and curling into myself.
Rest. I needed rest. The pain in my foot was so intense I felt tears prickle my eyes. Angry, I thudded my head against the trunk. There was no use in praying for help. I prayed plenty as a lad, desperate for my mother. Not that she’d cared much for me. She didn’t want a son. I had been desperate for her love and attention, but all she’d done was scowl at my wings.
I was five years old when I clutched her skirts the day they came to take me. Her hard face still haunted my dreams because of her lack of care. Or perhaps she hadn’t allowed herself to care because caring for me would mean mourning the day they took me. She’d not fought for me then and now she was long dead, and I was a hunted man with absolutely no one in the world. No woman would fight for me, even if I belonged to her. That was the law of the land.
Sleep overtook me and I rested an hour before I woke in fright, jumping to my feet and looking around. It was a mistake for the pain of the imbedded torn shot up my leg and I moaned, clutching trees. I had to keep going. There was nowhere to go, but rumors of men and women living in harmony in small communities deep in the forest always persisted. It was the only hope I had, and to rush towards that dream was at least a plan. In my mind, I imagined a small cottage by a lake, where I could fish and hunt. Maybe find some peace in this world.
Pushing myself, I continued, limping across the forest floor, pausing for small bites of food and water. Between the trees, there was a small clearing with the moon shining bright above. With the stolen knife, I attempted to dig the thorn out of my foot, but it was impossible with my trembling hands. The pain was unbearable. I tore a strip of cloth from my pants and fashioned a rustic binding to cover the torn. It would need to be ignored, as all other pain was ignored. In the pits, if we ever got wounded, ignoring was the best course of action. Many times, we allowed wounds to heal on their own. My body was a testament to that, filled with scrapes and scars.
At the end of the second day, I was deep in the forest and still no sounds of trackers. No one was looking for me. The horrid tension living perpetually between my shoulder blades began to dissipate. Perhaps the lady confessed that she’d let me go, or something equally silly. They would punish her. That didn’t sit right with me. My stomach burned a little, and I had to fist down that emotion. They wouldn’t, would they? She was the daughter of the general. Her mother would protect her. I couldn’t worry about her.
Shuffling to my feet, I kept going, but the pain was getting worse. A small voice in my head whispered infection. I ignored it. Regardless, I had no means of healing myself.
As I stepped over a boulder with a sharp grimace, I felt the whiz of an arrow fly past me. It embedded itself on the tree next to my head, less than half a foot away. Startled, I looked behind me.
The lady.
The time for soft, sensual gowns was over. She was decked in hunting gear, her hair pulled back, and her eyes were wide with fury as she nocked another arrow into her bow. I didn’t think her capable of it, but it seemed like the sweet woman who tried to converse with me was gone. This was a powerful huntress trained from childhood to kill.
We stared at one another, far enough to not hear her words but close enough to shoot me down if she wished. That had been a warning shot.
Just the thought of what would happen if she dragged me back made me tremble. There would be torture and death. I wasn’t ready to die.
Run.
I rushed through the ground, dropping my pack as I fled for my life. She’d told no one because she came to get me herself. She didn’t need a posse. My heart was at my throat as she gained on me. She wasn’t hurt; she wasn’t wounded; she was lithe and quick.
I jumped over fallen trunks, feeling my bare feet tear up with the harsh debris of the forest floor. But I didn’t stop, I couldn’t. Another arrow flew by my face, making me duck and roll. The branches and rocks cut and bruised my arms.
“I don’t want to kill you,” she yelled.
But she would.
Pushing myself up with a scream of determination, I continued, but realized she was trapping me. Inexplicably, the day they banded my wings came sharply to mind. Three men held me down as my wings were shoved into me, my bones making room for the appendages meant to live outside the human body. There was no pity as I sobbed and begged while they sewed up my back, ensuring the wings didn’t sprout. The pain lasted weeks, and I was one of many boys laying on cots crying and wishing for their mother. I’d not felt or seen my wings since. It was that same panic that ate me now.
I ran, feeling no pain, desperate for liberation. The forest ended suddenly as I burst into a clearing and came face to face with a cliff. The wind slapped my face as I looked at the massive canyon. My feet were a meter from the fall. If I had my wings, I could escape. Fly into the ravine and never be seen again. I yelled, my voice echoing into the vastness, wishing to tear into my bones and yank out my wings.
The trees moved as she gained on me. I had nowhere to go but to climb. Sliding into the rock, hands shaking, I pulled myself down, feeling my breath catch at my throat when I saw the impressive fall.
“Don’t be a fool!”
My feet were sliding on the rocks. I yelled as I held myself with the strength of my arms. She stopped and watched me. Her face was flushed, but her brown gaze was angry.
“I’m not going back!” I gripped the rocks, trying to find a way of descending.
“You’ll die splattered on the ground below.” Her face was deceptively calm.
I met her glare. “Splattered on the ground,” I grunted as I tried to grasp the edge. “Or dead hung in your chambers. What’s the difference?”
To my surprise, her eyes softened. She stepped closer and kneeled. I looked up at her as she held out her hand.
“I wouldn’t do that, even as angry as I am right now.”
My grip slacked as I stared up at her. She held my gaze and lowered her hand more. There was such calmness to her actions that I fed from it.
“You’re hurt,” she said, and there was a note of concern to her.
I couldn’t comprehend it and all it did was infuriate me. “What does it matter?”
His lips were set in a thin line. “It matters to me. Now, take my hand. You’ll slip.”
It mattered to no one. I mattered to no one. I’d spent thirty years of my life mattering little other than the girth of my cock and what mistress would it make happy. She told lies to make me comply, to make me believe she actually cared.
I shook my head, recoiling back. “No -” and my feet lost their balance. My fingers slacked in strength, and I slipped down.
She screamed, but I was too busy grappling the rocks, desperate to save myself. Then I was free-falling into the earth. Death seconds away.
But a cool chain flew through the air and encircled my forearm. The chain yanked roughly at my skin, and I yelled as I dangled in mid-air.