Chapter 43
Chapter Forty-Three
Ishouldn’t notice her wintry scent. I shouldn’t breathe deeper as I draw closer to her. I hate that I do.
Her body trembles as I loom over her in the cramped space, a deep flush painting her neck and cheeks. Treacherous desire swirls in my gut. My body doesn’t seem to give a damn that she’s a liar. A waterwielding spy with no qualms about mass murder.
A perfect match to you, some traitorous voice whispers in the deepest recesses of my mind. Shut the fuck up, I snarl back.
Knee braced beside her thigh, I uncuff one wrist. Her skin is red and chafed. My hands falter. I hadn’t meant to secure the cuff so tightly.
It doesn’t matter.
Pursing my lips, I retrieve another iron cuff from my pocket and clasp it around her wrist. I repeat the process with her other wrist, then bind both hands together with a length of rope, all the while, ignoring her icy glare.
Her feet skid across the carriage floor as I drag her down into the sunlit clearing. She squints against the sudden onslaught of light.
“You said we’re going to the border,” she snaps. Her glare turns glacial.
“So eager to meet your fate?”
I nod toward the carriage driver—I’d already threatened him with a painful death should he breathe a word of my prisoner—then tighten my grip around the waterwielder’s upper arm, dragging her through the forest. She’s unbalanced with her hands bound in front of her, wobbling with every other step.
“Where are we going?” she grits out. Anger that she has no right to laces her voice. Did she ever speak to her captain with such cold disdain?
“Shut up.”
“I swear by the Tides, if you—”
My restraint snaps.
I whirl, hand tight around her neck as I shove her into the nearest tree, crowding her until her chest heaves against mine, and Skies help me, I hate the lust that coils deep in my belly at the press of her soft body.
“You’ll what?” I snarl, baring my teeth.
Liar. Liar. She’s a liar.
“I don’t think you realize what kind of trouble you’re in. If you test me, I’ll kill you. If you annoy me, I’ll kill you. If you breathe wrong—I’ll. Kill. You. Stop asking questions.”
There’s fear in her eyes—true terror.
It doesn’t bring me the satisfaction I’d expected.
Her lips part on a quivering inhale, and my faithless eyes drop to them. I suppress a growl and continue hauling her to our destination.
Ten minutes later, we reach the camp where I instructed Sulon to meet us—three tents pitched around a fire.
My second-in-command stands ready to greet us, wiping his blade clean, along with Rhayl, Dreltem, and a few others.
Mayah—the waterwielder—doesn’t want to cooperate, though. Her heels dig into the ground as if that might stop me from dragging her toward the fire in the center of camp.
“Sit.” She doesn’t move, so I clamp my hands around her shoulders and force her to the ground. “Stay.”
The men chuckle as she snarls at me, and their mocking laughter needles at some violent instinct inside me. I shove it down.
She deserves it. All of this and more.
I nod toward Sulon, leaving the waterwielder by the fire, ignoring her glare burning into my back. The remaining five soldiers form a semi-circle around her. I grit my teeth but don’t tell them to stand down.
“What is your command, sire?” Sulon asks, voice low, eyes darting over to the waterwielder and lingering on her bound wrists. “Is she a…?”
Prisoner. The word won’t pass my lips, though.
“She will remain here until I command otherwise. And she will remain unharmed. Understood?”
Sulon’s gaze returns to her, something dark swirling in his gaze.
“Sulon,” I hiss, hands clenching at my sides. “Swear to me she’ll be safe here.”
His eyes jerk back to me. “Of course, sire,” he reassures. “She’ll be perfectly safe.”
I study him closely. No prickles. With a stiff nod, we settle beside the fire, and the men busy themselves with their respective tasks.
I refuse to look at her.
The sun is setting when I finally spare a glance for the waterwielder. She sits huddled by the fire where I left her, looking entirely too beautiful for a prisoner.
Skies damn me into the earth. Lightning strike me until I’m ash.
Her pretty face conceals a deadly snake. Her full lips speak only lies.
Gritting my teeth, I stalk over and sit beside her. She recoils like I’m the snake. Scowling, I tear off a strip of dried meat and hold it to her mouth. “Eat.”
“Untie me. I’ll feed myself.”
“No.” I press the meat to her mouth again, and she snarls, flinching away from my hands.
Irritation flares in my chest. I force myself to shrug as if she isn’t driving me insane. “Suit yourself.”
I’ve nearly walked away when Rhayl stands up. “I can try to feed her, sire, if you’re worried about her reserves. A healer would be useful if one of us is injured.”
I’ve never wanted to murder anyone more than I do now.
Well, except for her.
“No,” I growl.
“Wait,” the waterwielder says to him. “I’m very thirsty.” Voice hoarse, eyes wide. She’s an expert at manipulating men.
Rhayl must have a death wish because he hesitates only briefly before grabbing a canteen and heading towards her.
I don’t register thundering over to him. The water sloshes in the canteen as I tear it from his grasp. “Don’t go near her,” I snarl.
I can’t blame him entirely—I told my men nothing except to meet me here. Then I arrived with my wife in chains and demanded she remain unharmed.
With a deep sigh, I stalk back, uncorking the canteen.
“Don’t try anything, waterwielder.”
She glares at me, holding up her iron-bound wrists.
I tilt the water into her open mouth, and the waterwielder swallows it down in frantic gulps. A whisper of guilt blows in my ear. I ignore it.
When she’s drank her fill, I haul her up again.
“What—” she starts, but I drag her to a nearby tree and force her to the ground.
I don’t want her near the men.
“I could run,” she snaps. Her glare burns hotter than the fire.
I smirk. “Try it. I’ll drag you back by your pretty hair.”
Skies damn me.
I pivot on my heel before she can see my wince. There’s nothing pretty about her. She’s a liar. A skiesdamned liar. Nothing else.
“Why did you pick this location, sire?” Sulon asks me quietly as I settle by the fire. “The Tundrayni camp is nearby. I was surprised they were permitted to set up a base within Arbinji soil. So close to the palace.”
I don’t answer his question. Instead, I ask, “Has there been any activity with the camp?” I glance back at the waterwielder. She’s watching us with determination etched all over her face. Turning back to Sulon, I drop my voice. “They don’t know we’re here?”
Sulon shakes his head. “Not to my knowledge.”
Good. Hopefully all goes to plan.
And then I’ll be free of her.
The waterwielder is asleep. I rake my gaze over her slumped form, still leaning against the tree.
Sword sheathed, vambraces strapped—it’s almost time.
But I need to ensure one thing before I leave.
A few times over the past few hours, I’ve caught Sulon staring at her. I haven’t liked the look in his eyes.
“Rhayl,” I call out to the lean soldier. He jogs over. I point at the waterwielder. “Do you think she’s pretty?”
His brow furrows. “Sire?”
“My wife,” I spit out, gesturing again to the slumbering woman in chains. “Is. She. Pretty?”
Rhayl’s face reddens, and I resist the urge to shove my dagger through his stomach. He weighs his words, shifting on his feet. “N-no, sire. Not at all.”
Sharp needles dig into my neck.
“Get out of my sight,” I growl. He doesn’t need to be told twice.
An exasperated sigh tears free. Despite his barbed nature, Sulon has always been truthful with me. I wave the burly man over.
“I’ll be gone for a while,” I tell him. “Can I trust you to keep my wife safe?”
“Of course, sire. I won’t let any of the men near her.”
No prickles.
“And you won’t go anywhere near her either.”
He nods quickly.
“Say it,” I grit out.
“I won’t go anywhere near her.”
Truth.
Satisfied, I nod and head into the forest—
—toward the Tundrayni camp.