Chapter 4 #3
“I’ll tell you what, Ennis.” He cuts his eyes to me, and though I can’t tell from here what color they are—black, or dark blue maybe—I can see the calculation in them as he takes me in. “If you can capture her, then she’s yours. I’ll let you walk away with the prize.”
Ennis and I wear matching narrow-eyed, suspicious expressions. The tall man just looks confused. Well, he certainly isn’t the brains of this little outfit, that’s for sure.
“You swear on the Great Makers? No tricks?” Ennis asks, clearly suspicious.
“You have my word.”
“And what about him? He’ll just let a catch this big go?”
Blackheart shrugs. “I’ll take whatever punishment he deems appropriate for the loss.”
Ennis debates for a moment longer before nodding.
“Alright then.” Ennis jerks his chin at the tall man. “Well, get her, you idiot. Should be easy enough with her Gift blocked.”
The tall man nods and turns back to me again. I tighten my grip on the rock and raise it up, ready for the attack to come.
“Aw, kitten thinks she has claws,” he drawls as he steps forward and reaches for me.
I freeze the ground beneath him, making him lose his footing and stumble forward.
He curses as I slash out with the rock, cutting him across the face.
His hand flies to his cheek, his eyes wide in shock, but I don’t hesitate to swing again.
I backhand him with the broad end of the stone against his temple, and he falls to his knees with a groan.
I swear I hear a deep chuckle from Blackheart.
“Kitten doesn’t think she has claws—she knows,” I hiss before kicking him square in the crotch.
He cries out and rolls up defensively, ragged breaths sawing in and out as he moans and cups his bruised ballocks.
I rear back and kick him in the jaw, sending him sprawling across the snow.
He doesn’t try to get up again. One down.
I shift my gaze to the other two men and see Ennis striding forward.
I don’t understand this game that Blackheart has started, but I don’t have a choice but to play.
His dark eyes flicker with interest as I raise my chin, telling Ennis without words that this won’t be easy.
Blackheart leans casually against a nearby tree, settling in to watch the show.
“Thought you were a spoiled little princess,” Ennis sneers, pulling a wickedly curved dagger from his belt, the kind some of the sailors favor down at the port.
“Didn’t expect a fight from you, not without your Gift, I’ll admit.
But you’re the biggest payday of my life, pet—I won’t give you up to the likes of Blackheart or anyone else.
” He moves to the left, so I shift to my right, matching him step for step, keeping the distance between us.
“Trust me, you’d rather go with me anyway.
Dorian will demand a hefty ransom, and Makers know that Barony and his allies will pay it, but during the negotiations?
” He makes a show of shivering violently.
“Well, he’ll make what I have planned sound like a walk in the park.
So, just come on with me, nice and slow, and no one gets hurt. ”
A part of me believes that he’s right, that he’s the lesser of two evils here, but no way in hells I’ll take either option without a fight.
“I think your friend there disagrees about no one getting hurt.”
He sneers at the reminder and I eye the blade, watching as he brandishes it out in front of him like a small sword.
My lips curl upward. There are two ways to hold a knife during a fight: the way he’s doing it, and the right way.
Another of Tobias’ lessons echoes through my mind: most men think holding a blade and waving it about is enough. Most men are idiots.
Sure enough, Ennis is indeed an idiot. He slashes out without any skill to speak of, and I easily duck to the side. He swipes again from the other direction and I dart away once more, my eyes never leaving his hand.
“Careful, Ennis. You need her intact,” Blackheart chides, his voice a mix of amusement, arrogance, and boredom.
“I won’t cause any damage that can’t be mended.”
We circle each other slowly and I toss the rock aside. I pull at the already-torn sleeve of my dress, ripping it completely off. I hold the strip of fabric between my hands, wrapping the ends around my fists to get a good grip. Ennis quirks a brow.
“So eager to strip for me, are you, kitten? There’ll be plenty of time for that on the road, don’t you worry,” Ennis muses in a low voice, smiling and showing off several silver teeth.
He lurches forward, swinging the knife downward in a wide arch, and I shift to the side, using the sleeve to capture his wrist. I twist my body and the fabric at the same time and use my momentum and leverage to send him stumbling forward while yanking back on his arm.
He cries out when it bends at an unnatural angle, and I smile savagely when I pull harder, snapping his wrist. His scream of agony echoes through the woods around us.
“You bitch! You broke my arm!” he roars, but I spin behind him and kick out at the back of the knee.
He cries out as he falls to the ground and I quickly wrap one arm around his thick neck, tucking it into the crook of my elbow and pulling tight, cutting off his air supply.
He claws at my forearm with his uninjured hand, but I don’t budge, only squeeze tighter.
In a last-ditch effort to get me off of him before he’s out of oxygen, he reaches back for my face.
I pull away, but he manages to get his grubby fingers into my hair.
I scream through clenched teeth as he yanks, ruby-encrusted pins scattering along the snow-covered ground and looking entirely too much like drops of blood.
My braid comes free and my hair tumbles down my back.
I scream again, in frustration this time, and squeeze harder.
He finally, finally stops struggling, his hand going limp and falling away from my hair.
I let his body slump to the ground and stumble backwards, panting.
And then Blackheart is there as if he’d appeared out of thin air, the tip of his sword resting against my throat and forcing my chin up to face him.
Fuck.
I glare at him, still breathing hard, and try to calculate my options. I could use my Gift and end him right here, but I hear others approaching now. If they see and I can’t get away, I’m worse than dead…
“I’ll admit, your attempts to fight back were admirable and unexpected—hells, they were even entertaining—but they end now.
This pretty little head is worth a half a kingdom in coin, but I’ll gladly relieve you of it, princess.
Do you understand?” He presses the tip of the blade forward just enough to prick my skin, and I feel a hot trickle of blood making its way down my throat.
“You’re far too valuable to kill, but make no mistake, if you cause me trouble, I will make you wish that I had.
” His voice is so cold, so matter of fact, that I shiver with true fear.
I give him a tiny nod, mindful of the blade, and he lowers it as another handful of men join us.
They look at the others, both still lying on the ground.
Ennis might be dead, actually, now that I look at him.
I’m not entirely sure and I don’t entirely care.
“Not just a spoiled princess after all then?” one of the newcomers asks.
“Not quite,” Blackheart says, his dark eyes cold and intense, and I look away, feeling like he’ll somehow be able to see right through me if I don’t, see every secret I’m trying to hide. “Bring her.”
He strides away and I look up again, watching him as he goes. He slides his sword into the scabbard on his hip in a smooth, practiced motion, and doesn’t look back.
Two men step on either side of me, each taking an arm, and I have to fight every instinct to turn my skin to ice, to burn them and fight back.
You’re far too valuable to kill. If I want to survive, I have to pretend to be my sister, at least for now.
Dorian may like to collect Gifteds, but even he would be enticed to trade me for the unholy amount of coin I’m sure Barony and the Alliance will be willing to pay.
So, I need to keep up the ruse. It will buy me time to figure out a plan, some way to escape this nightmare.
We finally make it to a small clearing where horses and more men are waiting.
I’m happy to see that they’ve brought the horses that were pulling the carriage as well, their harnesses sporting the winged lion of Lyanna, and didn’t leave them to fend for themselves out here.
A large trunk sits on the ground and I eye it curiously.
It’s beautifully made, deep, gleaming wood inlaid with rows of glittering gemstones and a golden latch.
Blackheart throws it open, and he and another man begin rifling through the contents, tossing garment after garment out onto the snow-covered ground.
Blackheart cuts a glance my way and it takes me a moment to realize that he’s expecting a reaction.
These are meant to be my belongings, I remind myself, the belongings of one of the most famed and powerful Gifteds in all of Hypathia.
What would Tesni do? Throw a fit like a spoiled princess, I imagine, just like they keep calling me.
I take a settling breath, hoping I can play the part well enough.
“Stop that!” I snap, pulling against the man who still holds one of my arms. “Do you have any idea how expensive those are?”
Blackheart smirks.
“Not nearly as expensive as the cost to get you back, I’ll tell you that much, Red.”
I frown. Red? What in the hells is he talking about?