Chapter 36
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
SOFIA
S ofia’s face was hot with rage and something bordering on shame, though she refused to acknowledge it. Fox wouldn’t meet her eyes, but the three other soldiers with him had none of the same qualms. The one that had caught her in the back tunnels was still leering down at her, seemingly excited that her tunic was hanging on by a thread.
She was angry at him. She was angry at General Ocon. She was angry at herself for getting caught. Yet, despite everything, she had no idea what she was feeling toward Fox. He had marked the cenote’s entrance during his escape. He was the reason for everything happening now and she saw the truth of that in his face. But the Fox that had let her walk away this morning—the Fox that had touched her gently and called her passion a gift—he was different than the one that had marked the base. Wasn’t he?
Or perhaps she was simply lying to herself to stop her heart from breaking and her soul from shattering at the realization she’d trusted the wrong person, again.
She watched the men gathering, dragging sacks of food and weapons they’d raided from the storerooms and kitchens. She knew she had bigger things to worry about, but she still wanted to scream. They were stealing a cycle’s worth of dry goods and the meat that she’d helped collect. And where would they take it? To the military quarter where meat was never in short supply, or the royal quarter where food was squandered without care.
“That’s not yours.” She bit the words out, regretting it even as she said them. But the soldier walking by with the sack of cornmeal only gave her a jeering laugh, and her personal guard, still standing behind her, smacked her hard across the head before she could say more.
“Shut up, dragon bitch. The food is as stolen as the weapons we found.”
She wanted to say more, but her gaze rested on Fox. He was looking at her again, for the first time since she’d spit at him, and his face was pale. The sneer he’d been wearing for his father was gone and he looked at her now with something akin to pleading in his eyes. Her stomach twisted, but she closed her mouth.
There was a time for passion and impulse and a time for waiting. She needed to watch and make a plan. She might be able to escape between here and Suvi. Depending on how many walked with her. She knew the forest better than any of them. She could climb a tree and slip into the leaves before they found her.
Her chest expanded with a slow breath, and she closed her eyes for a moment as she released it, slower still. And then she let her eyes take in the soldiers moving around her, calculating. Careful not to draw attention with her surveillance, she counted the soldiers gathering together to move back to Suvi with her. There were so many of them.
She chanced a glance behind her, seeing the movement of a few other soldiers out of the corner of her eye. Any ounce of hope and happiness drained from her. There were bodies on the ground she hadn’t noticed. Viola’s face was turned away from her, but she recognized the silver and black strands of her braid and the small ceramic flower comb she always wore. The one Javi’d gifted her cycles ago. It was stained now with the blood no longer leaking from the wound in her head. Another two bodies lay just behind, but Sofia couldn’t see them from where she kneeled. Not without standing.
She moved automatically, too afraid to not see who was lying next to Viola. Javi? His heart-mother, Elena? But before she made it even an inch off the ground, a large hand laced through her hair and yanked her hard. Back arching painfully, she let out a small cry. Her hands scraped against the ground even as she tried not to let the tug throw her off-balance, but the momentary jerk had her tunic falling. The skin of her back was again exposed, her breasts nearly bared. She scrambled once more to cover herself up, but the man kicked her hard in the side.
“If you can’t keep your shirt on properly, I should just take it from you.”
She hated herself for the flush of shame and fear the threat sent up her spine. Before she could retort, she felt soft fabric slipping over her head. Fox was above her, avoiding her eyes as he arranged the dirty but intact shawl around her shoulders.
“You’re giving the creature clothes?” the guard asked.
Fox looked at him with a coldness she’d forgotten he could possess. “I don’t take enjoyment in staring at a Dragonborn’s bare flesh. It’s beneath me .”
The guard gave an indignant snort, but didn’t comment.
She might have been thankful for it, but not even a minute later her guard was back, pulling her up none-too-gently from the ground. He tied her hands behind her, but she was at least covered by the shawl that Fox had found and she sent a small thanks to him in her mind.
Then they were moving—toward the ladder that stretched up and out of the cenote. She watched as the other soldiers climbed out, confused as to why her hands were already tied when she had to make the climb, too. But her question was answered when she was thrown at another guard, like a sack of potatoes.
She nearly let out a snarl as she realized their intentions. She was going to be lifted up by a rope and pulley alongside the other loot. Exactly like a sack of potatoes.
The man yanked her hands up, twisting her shoulders with little care for her comfort and tying the rope to her bound hands. She was hoisted up in the air by her hands, her shoulders flaring hot with pain as they were pulled and twisted by the weight of her own body. She tasted blood as her teeth sank into her cheeks stopping the scream that wanted to crawl from her throat at the sensation. The rope twisted and tugged harder with every flinch of her body and she tensed every muscle in her body, trying to keep herself still.
She was panting, hands gone numb by the time her feet touched the ground above. Her eyes burned and she blinked hard, refusing to let the tears fall. Before sensation had even come back to her fingers, she was being shoved in a new direction, brusque hands moving to tie her feet together, as if they weren’t about to walk the miles back to Suvi. The soldier tying the knot slapped her for pointing out as much, but at least he loosened the length between her feet, allowing for a decent stride.
It wasn’t until they were walking, her steps stumbling over the undergrowth as the rope tying her legs caught on every root and branch, that she saw Fox again. He was walking a few yards away, just behind the others in the group. She hated the sense of relief she felt in seeing her bag slung over his shoulder. She wanted to assume he was protecting the feather. She wanted to assume he was helping. But his eyes never even flickered to where she was stumbling, his face a cold mask of indifference.
Sofia dragged her eyes from him, focusing on the path ahead. Right now, whatever was going through Fox’s head didn’t matter. She needed a plan. It was clear from the sheer number of soldiers around her and the ropes binding her wrists and ankles that she wouldn’t get away if she tried to run now, which meant she needed a plan to escape the prison and get to her friends—whoever was left.
She nearly laughed at the irony. All this started because Sofia wanted Fox to sneak her in so she could save Dia and the others. Now she was getting her wish. Fox and his fellow king’s men were bringing her straight to prison, in chains.