Chapter 11 #2
The words he’d spoken to Elara—sharp, final—returned like a blade turned inward.
He had meant them. Duty had to come first.
And yet… the look in her eyes when he said it lingered like a pain he could not shake.
He closed his eyes briefly, only long enough for her face to rise before him again, hurt, disbelieving, betrayed.
It tightened something low in his chest, something he had thought long buried beneath years of training, discipline, and command.
Her voice echoed as sharply as any order his father had ever given him.
Hunters were stoic. They had to be to hunt and to surrender their prey. There was no room for pity or sorrow, to feel at all, and yet… he felt something for Elara. Something deep and binding. Something he could not quite explain or understand.
He dragged a breath into his lungs and let the cold air steady him. Weaknesses had no place now. The road ahead demanded clarity. Caerith demanded obedience. King Dravic demanded results.
Muir approached, and Dar straightened without a trace of what he felt.
Muir pulled up beside him. “The tracker says the path is clear ahead.”
Dar acknowledged the news with a nod, then cast a brief glance at the blood-soaked cloth wound around Muir’s arm. “Have the old healer look at that wound when we stop.” His tone held no warmth, only command. “Infection spreads quickly. I’ll not have you fall behind.”
Muir arched a brow, amused. “Didn’t know you cared that much for me.”
“I don’t,” Dar said. “But I need you whole until we reach King Dravic.” He fixed him with a thin look. “After that, you can lose the arm for all I care.”
Muir barked a laugh and nudged his horse away, rejoining the line.
Dar watched him go, then turned his gaze toward the back of the column.
The cart carrying the women followed at a distance, the wheels creaking over rutted earth.
He couldn’t see Elara clearly from here, only the faint glint of her silver hair when the wind shifted, but the sight struck him with unwelcome force.
He tore his gaze away and set his jaw tight. Whatever storm brewed beneath his ribs would have to wait. The road stretched long before them, and he would tolerate no delays.
By the time the Hunters made camp, the sky had settled into a deep violet dusk, the last traces of light smudged behind distant hills.
They halted beside a stretch of forest where the trees grew tall and close, their branches twisting together like fingers intent on holding secrets.
Fires were lit in narrow pits, flames kept low, barely more than a glow beneath the simmering dark.
The women were led from the cart, stiff from the long day’s ride. Elara helped Adira down, the lass clinging to her hand, wide-eyed with exhaustion. Then she and Adira helped Feena, her aching limbs giving her trouble climbing out of the cart.
Muir approached them, his dark eyes as stern as his voice. “You’ll be allowed a few minutes in the woods to see to your needs. Do not wander far or think to flee. Hunters see well in the dark, and I do not advise testing our patience.”
His gaze lingered on Elara longer than the others. Not threatening. Not kind. Simply assessing.
She gave a curt nod and guided Feena and Adira toward the trees.
As she stepped beneath the branches, she glanced back—only once—and found Dar watching her from where he stood with two men.
The firelight caught the line of his jaw, the glint of steel at his hip, and an empty look in his eyes. She turned away, her heart aching.
They walked until they found a sheltered patch between two ancient oaks. Feena stayed close to Adira, reassuring her with gentle touches to her shoulder and arm as they disappeared around a tree.
Elara knelt beside a thin stream to splash cold water across her face and hands. The night air felt sharper here, the weight of the forest curling around her like a friend and she wished she could linger in the gentleness.
But linger wasn’t what she needed to do. She glanced across the stream. If she could make it across, she could lose herself in the forest. The Hunters would not find her; the forest would help her hide.
She cast a glance behind her. No one was there.
Now was the time, for she might not get another chance.
She stood and went to step forward when she felt a flutter by her cheek and caught a quick glance of a faint blue light close to her face.
Then it suddenly rushed off. Elara watched it disappear amongst the trees across the stream, stopping only long enough to cast enough light on a Hunter.
Elara’s heart thudded. If she had attempted to escape, she would have been caught. The shimmering blue light had warned her.
Fae folk.
It was the only reasonable explanation. But what were they doing in the forest when they had been banished to Driochmor?
Elara turned, hearing Feena speaking to Adira as they approached and tucked the question away for another time.
“Why do you speak to her when she cannot hear?” Elara asked, curious.
Feena explained. “Adira might not hear or be able to speak but she can feel. Feel the same pain, hurt, joy, sorrow, happiness as anyone else and so she uses all the senses to help her understand. A gentle touch brings less worry, comfort is felt when held close, the vibration of a soft or angry voice can be felt. Feeling is the way Adira understands communication, facial features also prove helpful and some hand gestures as well. So, speaking to her gently allows her to feel that vibration and know that she has nothing to fear. And presently, the less she fears the better.”
“I will remember that when I speak with her,” Elara said.
Feena smiled. “It is good you think of it as speaking to Adira. It makes a difference. Now, are you finished? We should return to camp before Hunters come looking for us.”
“I only need a moment. I’ll be right behind you,” Elara said and bent to snatch up her cloak.
“Don’t dally,” Feena called out already disappearing around the turn of the bend.
“I won’t,” Elara said loud enough to be heard as she straightened and froze once she reached her full height.
A presence stirred amongst the trees not far from her. Not the shifting whisper of leaves, nor the gentle tread of Feena’s feet. This step was silent. Measured. Intentional.
Elara stared at the shifting shadows until…
Dar stepped out of the dark, leather merging with shadow, moonlight catching the steel at his hip and the hard line of his jaw.
She had held her anger back all day, but now alone with him, it rose like a storm she could no longer contain.
“I will never trust you again,” she said, bitterness in her every word.
The words struck the air between them with sharp finality.
Dar didn’t flinch. If anything, he seemed to brace himself. “Whether you trust me or not changes nothing. I will still protect you.”
“Protect me?” She laughed, but it was hollow. “You betrayed me. You lied to me from the moment we met.”
“I had a mission and I followed it,” he snapped harshly.
“Was I that mission?”
“Aye,” he admitted. “I was sent to find the silver-haired lass with the amethyst eyes and bring her to the king.”
She stepped toward him, her look fierce, yet hurt. “You pretended to be a wanderer. You let me believe… you let me feel safe with you. And then you tore it all away.”
His jaw tightened. “I had a mission.”
“So, you’ve said repeatedly. But why wait to bring me to the king?
Why not take me to him immediately.” She raised her hand stopping him from responding and turned a sorrowful smile on him.
“When I spoke about finding the healer the king searches for, it made you wonder if I was not the one and decided to see if I could take you to her. You used me.”
“I kept you safe.”
“And those women who we helped stay free, did you report them to the Hunters you spoke with when I was not nearby?”
“Nay, there was no reason to. They harbored nothing I needed. I only needed you.”
He had needed her but in ways he didn’t want to admit.
“You shattered any trust I had in you, shattered the spark of caring that you ignited in me with the simple touch of your hand and…” She shook her head, trying hard not to recall his kisses. “It is all gone now. Gone forever.”
Her words hurt so badly she feared she would weep, and she refused to do that in front of him.
Silence fell heavy around them and for a moment neither moved.
Dar’s fury mounted when he saw the hurt he had caused her rise in her violet eyes and his firm control snapped.
He reached for her, his hands gripping her arms, not harshly but with a force that left no space between intention and action.
He pulled her against him, his breath mingling with hers, his voice rough.
“Elara—”
She didn’t have time to answer.
His mouth captured hers in a hard, fierce, hungry kiss.
Everything he’d held back, every denial, every command, every crack in his armor, poured into that single moment.
It wasn’t gentle or measured. It was desperate. It was claiming. It was apology and fury and desire tangled into one unbreakable pull.
And the night swallowed them whole.