Chapter 52
Chapter Fifty-Two
The jingling of his belt buckle cuts through my resolve like a knife. This is really happening. Tides, he’s going to—
He shoves his pants down over his hips.
Everything falls quiet—my heartbeat, the camp. Even the wind.
Bile rises in my throat.
I refuse to look at him.
He doesn’t like that.
My scalp burns when he fists my hair in his meaty hand, wrenching my head back. Hot tears prick my eyes, blurring my vision, dripping down my cheeks. They mingle with the blood coating my face from my bruised nose and split lip.
“You’ve never looked more beautiful, Princess,” he whispers, jabbing a rough thumb into my lower lip until fresh blood gushes out. His large hands grope me, squeezing every part of me he can reach.
I can’t contain the whimper that escapes me, can’t cage it inside with my fury. Fresh tears fall from my eyes, hatred and rage and pure terror splintering my heart into pieces.
He straightens, angling himself toward my face. He forces two fingers between my lips, prying my jaw open. I try to bite down as hard as I can, but he’s too strong. My bleeding mouth is stretched wide, and still he bears down harder—
The air shifts.
I can sense it, like an electric charge that makes every hair on my body stand at attention.
A distant rumbling sounds—this time in the sky—and Sulon freezes. He yanks his hand from my mouth and pulls up his trousers.
But he’s too late.
Heavy footsteps thunder closer.
“What the fuck are you doing to my wife?!” Zev roars, emerging through the trees. His face is cut from stone, a wrathful god. Cold fury blazes in his eyes, his muscles tight with tension.
“I… sire, I—”
Zev raises a hand. All six men freeze, their bodies unnaturally still.
I hold my breath.
When I release it, the men begin to jerk, stiff and erratic. The stench of burning metal permeates my nostrils. Their screams cut off like a snapped wire—soundless and sudden.
Daak. The vision of his body writhing the same way batters my mind.
A chorus of heavy thuds echoes as the men drop to the ground one by one, but it’s muffled over the sound of my wails.
I’m sobbing, tears streaming down my face.
Grief and fear and relief and humiliation and fury take turns raging inside me, fighting for dominance.
Zev falls to his knees. He reaches for me, and I recoil, nearly tumbling backward if not for the roots still holding me prisoner.
“Skies, Mayah,” he whispers, eyes brimming with remorse. With so much pain. And another emotion, one I know as well as my name—guilt.
He reaches out again slowly, like I’m a skittish animal, cradling my battered face. “What did they do to you?”
“You did this to me,” I hiss through tears, jerking away from him. “You left me with them. Did you know he’d try to—” My mouth moves, but nothing comes out.
Just a sob. Just shame.
“I swear I didn’t. He said he’d keep wat—”
“You left me here alone! Bound and helpless! A Tundrayni woman with six Arbinji soldiers!” I scream in his face. Fresh sobs tear out of me, and I curl in on myself, shoulders shaking.
“Fuck, Mayah. I—”
Zev unsheathes his dagger. His hands are gentle as he saws through the roots binding my wrists, then my ankles. I wince as the thorns are pulled from my skin, bright wounds weeping blood where they pierced my flesh. With a deft swipe, he slices through the rope that binds my hands.
My wrists are chafed beneath the iron bracelets still encasing them. My tears flow harder, violent shudders wracking my body.
Escape. I need to escape.
“Mayah…” He sounds uncertain, hand poised over my shoulder, seemingly unsure if he should touch me.
I snatch the dagger from his grip.
He lets me.
“Off, off, I want them off,” I pant. “I can still feel his hands.” I wedge the sharp blade between my bruised skin and the iron cuff, digging in, trying to unlock it.
“Wait, I have the key—”
“Don’t touch me!” I shout, scrambling backwards. I work the blade harder into my flesh, gritting my teeth at the pain.
“Mayah, stop, let me—”
My hands are shaking.
My heart is racing.
One hard yank and—
—the dagger opens a violent gash down the length of my arm.
Zev swears, loud and panicked.
Hot blood gushes from the wound, coating my clothes, seeping into the wet earth. Zev scrambles over to me, knocking the dagger from my hands. He holds out my wrist, and the blood flows faster.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he hisses. “You need to heal yourself.” With two quick clicks, he uncuffs me, the iron bracelets falling to the ground with a dull thud.
My eyes flutter closed.
“Skies, Mayah—focus.” He shakes my shoulders. “You’re bleeding too fast. Heal yourself. Now.”