Four
Raina
Minutes earlier ...
The kick to my upper back knocked the wind out of me. My spear clanked as it bounced on the floor. Weaponless, I rolled out of the way before the next strike landed, getting my bearings.
Shouts and curses, and the metallic ring of swords colliding, meant my unexpected visitor had jumped into the fray. There was no way Lorne knew I was in trouble before he arrived.
I couldn't fathom what brought him here at this hour, but it was nothing good.
As I got to my feet, a flash of Lorne's yellow hair caught my attention, fifteen feet and a gang of miscreants between us. I needed to get to him so he could shadow-walk us both out of here, assuming we could distance ourselves from these goons for the second it would take to disappear.
My frost magic surged, ice crystals forming around my hands. I lunged at the nearest attacker, slamming an ice-encased fist into his gut. He crumpled with a wheeze.
Whirling, I caught a sword aimed at my head and sent it clattering across the room with a burst of magic. Two more attackers rushed me and I ducked between them, shoving out with hands full of daggers made of ice.
They weren't giving up easily though. These weren't just bandits. They knew what they were doing. Knew who I was. Knew my name.
Panic licked at my insides but I shoved it away. I couldn't afford—a familiar yell cut through the din.
Lorne!
He stood near the doorway, the points of arrows protruding out of his chest and shoulder, face pale but determined. Where had those arrows come from? Were there more lying in wait outside?
Blood trickled out of his mouth and nose. Our eyes met across the room and in that second, I heard nothing but the rush of blood in my ears.
Stoic Lorne, who cared for few, who I thought despised me, didn't hesitate to jump in to help when he saw me in trouble. He pulled his sword for me and now he was dying.
Lorne crumpled to the floor, arrows shifting with the movement, and the panic I'd been holding at bay roared through me.
"No!" I screeched, rushing toward him.
The remaining attackers descended on me in a flurry of blows and swinging swords but I barely felt them. My magic pulsed erratically, ice and panic tangling until I couldn't tell one from the other.
All that mattered was reaching Lorne. Protecting him, the way he'd tried to protect me. I owed him that much. Owed the king. Nox's brother couldn't die like this.
A sword caught me across the ribs, sharp pain slicing through my thoughts. I gasped, stumbling.
"Lorne," I breathed, pushing as many ice daggers out as I could, trying to reach him, to get us both to safety.
The injured giant was already up on his hands and knees, rising to his feet. His grey eyes darkened to black, staring down the enemies between us.
He'd never make it across the room to me.
"Go!" I yelled, swinging the sword I'd taken from one of the fae I'd knocked to the ground.
Lorne lifted his palms, the hum of his power vibrating.
Was he seriously going to drain his waning energy? "Get help, idiot!"
His eyes darted to me. He could be back in less than two minutes with help. Why was he hesitating?
The answer came through loud and clear when I saw the determined look of retribution in his eyes. If he planned to keep fighting them because they'd drawn his ire, he really was an idiot.
"Now!" I grunted, turning into a high kick and away from Lorne.
"Don't die," he ordered, finally magicking his giant ass out of this hell.
The relief I felt was short-lived.
I swung and jabbed and ducked, using my powers in between strikes. I was good, but there was only one of me.
Please hurry, I silently begged, plunging steel through the nearest torso.
I yanked back but the male's hands were on the handle, covering mine. Bloodshot eyes and an unhinged laugh made my skin crawl. Unable to pull the sword out, I let go. And backed into a wall of pissed-off fae.
The blow to the back of my head was expected. The wink from the asshole slowly extracting the blade I'd plugged him with was not.
I was out before my body hit the floor.
When I came to, I was gasping, blinking up at an unfamiliar ceiling. I was momentarily disoriented, unsure of my surroundings and how I had ended up there.
Then it all came rushing back. The attack, Lorne riddled with arrows, me yelling at him to leave. The others descending to finish their task.
Alarm rose in my chest as I struggled to sit up, biting back a cry at the sharp pain in my side. My hands came away bloody when I pressed them to my ribs, the memory of the slices of swords into my flesh all too vivid.
Everything hurt. I'd been hit, kicked, cut, struck with offensive spells, from head to toe. Even so, I wasn't healing as fast as I should have. I must have used more of my well-store than I thought.
Get control of yourself, Raina, my mother's sardonic voice rang in my head. I didn't raise you to be weak.
Emotions would get me nowhere right now. I'd become adept at hiding them long ago, functioning with a cool demeanor. Though I detested admitting it, the skill came in handy, especially when dealing with those who thought ill of me.
Closing my eyes, I shut down that train of thought, centering myself, focusing on my pulse. On the air coming into my lungs, then pushing out.
I went to the place in me where there was no pain or fear, where I was strong and capable. Where I wasn't a pawn, a chess piece to be sacrificed for the whims of a couple whose selfishness knew no bounds.
When my mind let go of all the negatives and I was ready to process this current predicament, I opened my eyes.
The room was dimly lit, the only light coming from a small window with tattered curtains. The furniture was worn and threadbare, with peeling paint and scratches. The stale scent of dust and neglect clung to the room.
I was alone, no Lorne in sight. I wondered if he'd made it back to Thornewood, if he'd had enough energy to get there.
If he was even alive.
Guilt, that heavy burden, tried to squeeze my chest. I pushed it back. I could return to practicing self-recrimination later. I had things to do first.
The door burst open and I jumped to my stockinged feet. In sauntered two males, one tall and broad, the other shorter but no less menacing.
Their eyes, as cruel and calculating as they'd been when we scuffled in the cottage, ran over my body.
I was dressed in the blood stained clothing I'd worn to bed. Some spots dry and crusted to my skin, a handful still wet from the continuing ooze of blood.
The one with the brutish, imposing frame leered at me with lewd interest. His buggy, bluish eyes reminded me of the tree frogs that lived in Ephandor.
"The little frostling is awake," he sneered, circling me with slow, prowling steps before dropping a pair of boots–my boots–at my feet.
How considerate.
"You'll fetch a nice price."
I ignored his unsettling statement, stepping into my comfortable shoes. I didn't plan to be around long enough for whatever they had planned. I studiously kept my eyes off the open door behind the other male.
"You're not even going to introduce yourself before making threats?" I asked, shifting to make sure I kept him in my field of vision.
He laughed.
"I'm Tabor," the other male, smarmy with greasy brown hair, told me. "That's Llew. Don't piss him off. You won't like what happens."
Ice crackled in my hands, then sputtered to nothing. I tried again.
Tabor shook his head. "The cuffs will only drain you faster."
Cuffs? I pulled up the sleeves of my shirt, glaring at manacles. Though a good three inches wide, they weren't very thick. Not that it mattered. They were made of iron. If my skin hadn't been shredded in so many places, I would have noticed them.
Llew, who smelled like he hadn't bathed in a week, grabbed my forearm, lifting my arm and waving my hand and wrist in front of my face.
"No magic for you," he taunted. "But go ahead and try. I like it when females fight."
I bared my teeth in an icy smile, my heart beating in time with my fury.
"I don't need magic," I hissed, launching myself at him.
My fist connected solidly with his jaw and he grunted in surprise. But his shock swiftly turned to rage. His fist smashed directly into the long deep gash on my side and I folded in half. Blood poured from the wound.
It was deeper than I believed.
Llew lunged forward and I punched out, aiming for his dick. His hips twisted and the blow landed on his thigh just as his meaty fist came down on my neck, knocking me to grimy floorboards.
"You'll learn your place, frost nymph," he growled, kicking viciously at my prone form.
I curled into myself, agony ripping through my body, but I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of hearing me scream. Not that I could, having had the wind knocked from me.
Llew made to kick me again and Tabor grabbed his arm, halting the assault. "Enough. We need to be on our way."
Llew fumed but backed away, wiping his messy burgundy hair off his face and glowering down at me. I panted for breath, biting back the pain.
Broken ribs, at least two. Internal bleeding, likely. But I was alive. And while I lived, I would fight.
As I eased myself to my hands and knees, I saw a pair of fashionable soft beige boots enter behind my captors, expensive and out of place here.
"Did you bring everything, Vance?" Tabor asked.
"Yes. I double-checked everything myself. The heat in Antara is worse right now than normal so I went out and purchased a few more spells and charms. It should be more than enough to hike to Dusthaven and back."
So that was the plan. Take me into Antara and sell me to one of the wealthy malefactors that frequented the auction house in the shithole city of Dusthaven?
A memory from the last night floated to the surface, something about carrying out my parents wishes. If my heart wasn't already fractured into a million pieces, it would have broken.
Even from the grave they were able to punish me for not being the kind of daughter they'd wanted, one who could feed their ambition and serve at their feet.
"Take us to the border," Tabor ordered. "The sooner we're out of Falcondale, the better."
A rippling portal opened and the traitors dragged me through. Hot, arid wind lifted my hair. The savage, forbidding land of Antara stretched before us, all jagged mountains and treacherous shadows.
The magic of Antara wouldn't allow us to portal into it. We'd have to make our way on foot.
I would have trouble surviving the desert climate here, especially being cuffed and weakened as I was. I needed water vapors to help refuel my well-store. Swallowing, I realized I was already parched from my ordeal last night.
Wonderful.
Tabor lifted me to my feet, holding out a hand to Vance. I finally got a look at the third kidnapper.
Vance, who hadn't been one of the aggressors, appeared harmless. I was sure he wasn't, but the odd dark peach of his hair and purplish tone of his skin gave off a soft impression.
Thinner than Tabor, and looking like someone who hadn't had to fight a single day in his life, the lackey put a small vial into the waiting palm. My spine locked when beady-eyed Tabor uncorked the lid and held up the unknown liquid to me.
"It will speed up your healing so we can move faster," he explained in annoyance. "I'm doing you a favor."
Eying it like it might explode any second, I asked, "What else will it do?"
"I think it dulls the senses, but we won't know how well until you take it."
Tabor was fae, so he couldn't lie about the healing part. Yet, I didn't reach for the vial.
"Vance?" Tabor sighed.
The male came closer, throwing up his hands and releasing a wall of magic. It floated into me, freezing me in place.
Vance opened his mouth. I did the same, no longer in control of my movements. What the hell?
He flung back his head and suddenly I was staring at the blue and white sky above. Bitter-tasting liquid poured onto my tongue. Controlled by an unseen force, I was forced to swallow, then swallow again.
I'd never felt so helpless in my life. A mace to the chest would have been better than becoming someone's puppet.
All at once the spell let go and I panted, bending forward and glaring at Vance, then Tabor. A cold tingle prickled through my blood, dulling the ache of my wounds.
I was better, but nowhere near healed.
"I'll accept your apology now," Tabor eyed me.
Straightening, I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. "I'm sorry."
His chest puffed, pleased like he'd really done something.
"I'm sorry you're such a shit fighter you had to hire the Vendeca to help you capture me."
If they thought I hadn't recognized the lawless faction's marks on the arrows protruding from Lorne's body then they didn't know much about what my parents put me through. What I, like a sad little creature desperate for a crumb of affection, had done to show them I was deserving.
I didn't dodge Llew's slap across my face, though I'd seen it coming a mile away. The taste of copper landed on my tongue.
"We should cross now," Vance urged, looking around. "The pass into Antara will be hidden once the clouds cover the sun. It only shows once a day so we'll have to wait until tomorrow if we miss it."
Another dose of power sizzled around me and Tabor grabbed my wrists, pulling up my sleeves. Jerking away was useless now that Vance had a hold of my movements.
Careful to avoid touching the iron, he kept my arms up while a gloved Vance connected my handcuffs with a short chain. Tabor yanked one arm, testing the restraint.
Satisfied, he motioned for Vance to lead the way. Llew pushed me forward. I tried to run, but my legs wouldn't listen. I'd have to wait until the spell wore off.
I suspected Vance might be part mage. If he was, I'd have to kill him first, before I took out the other two. Compliantly walking across an auction stage was not going to happen.
The jagged landscape of Antara stretched across the horizon, painting a picturesque backdrop for us as we trudged along narrow trails. The air itself seemed hostile here, heavy and choking. Sweat had long ago absorbed into the fabric that covered me.
Strange beasts prowled among the rocks, their glowing eyes following our progress. Everything in this forsaken land wanted us dead.
Thirsty, bound, and aching everywhere, I wouldn't be able to defend myself very well if one of these desert creatures decided I looked like a tasty meal.
I traversed over the rocky path, discomfort accompanying every step. The potion that had been forced down my gullet may be working to heal, but the iron was ensuring it was slow and incomplete.
Healing was painful business. My broken ribs grated inside me as they fused and my head still pounded. But I wouldn't give Llew and Tabor the satisfaction of seeing me weak.
A roar shattered the eerie silence. A blast of flame erupted from the cliffs above, nearly singeing my hair. I threw myself aside as a firedrake swooped down, claws outstretched and jaws howling in warning.
The cowards scattered and left me on the trail.
It spat another plume of fire, the intense heat blistering my skin. I scrambled behind a boulder, panting, grateful I'd been able to move. Maybe the spell had worn off.
There was nowhere to go at the moment, but if I behaved I was sure I'd get an opportunity.
The trio came out of their hiding spots and got back in formation. I joined them without waiting for Tabor to order Vance to force me.
As the sun sank into early evening, we reached the foothills of the Verrenora Mountains. Tired and dehydrated, I needed to rest.
Tabor eyed the narrow path leading up into the mountains, worry etched into his features. "We'll make camp here for the night."
I bit back a triumphant smile, savoring the apprehension in his voice. I could work with his fear.
Vance pointed to a fallen tree. "Sit while we set camp."
I didn't actually think they'd unlock my cuffs but I thought they might force me to help. They'd get no argument from me on it.
Making myself comfy on the wide trunk, I watched them efficiently move around, unpacking supplies, the first of which was for cooking. My stomach growled thinking about it.
Within twenty minutes, they had a small camp set up. They were probably used to living this way, staying out of sight, carrying out their disgraceful plans.
Llew crouched beside the fire, a flask in his hand. I could smell the alcohol on his breath as he spoke to me. His gaze raked over my chest, filled with a sick hunger that turned my stomach.
"You're a pretty little thing, aren’t you? There are many who'd pay top coin for a taste."
I curled my lip, defiance burning in my veins. "Hear me when I say you won't live long enough to enjoy the money."
"So feisty," Llew chuckled. "But once you're collared and bound, permanently, that fire of yours will fade. A few weeks of breaking and you'll be eager to please. To serve in whatever way your new master sees fit."
He ran his tongue over his bottom lip. "I bet you'll be a competent little whore for some lucky male."
Bile rose in my throat but I kept my expression stony. "Maybe. Maybe not. The only thing that's certain is that I'd never be a competent little whore for someone like you, you disgusting piece of shit. I'd stab myself in my own heart before accepting your touch."
Llew surged to his feet, fists clenching. But Tabor placed a restraining hand on his arm. “Leave it.”
Llew’s flinty gaze settled on me, a silent promise of pain glimmering in their depths.