37
Rokath allowed me a nibble of freedom with each passing day I obeyed his rules. So far, my plan to earn his trust was working, though at a much slower pace than I wanted. Especially after he punished me for speaking his name aloud in front of the soldiers. My blood still heated at the memory of it all, and I cursed myself and the Fates for making him my fucking mate yet again.
I wouldn’t do it again, though. Wouldn’t give him the satisfaction again.
When we stopped that evening, I finally worked up the nerve to ask for some different clothes. Rokath, Rapp, and I strode toward the black tents and the command center after handing off our mounts to be cared for. Every evening unfolded in this way, and I knew I had to ask then, before they disappeared for their nightly reports.
“If I’m going to be riding with the army, I might as well look like I belong. Besides, riding in dresses is nearly impossible, even with the pants you found me,”
I announced, keeping my voice strong.
The two males stopped walking. Rokath’s heavy regard fell over me.
“She has a point,”
Rapp agreed, flicking his tongue over the rings in his lip.
“Thank you,”
I huffed, planting my hands on my hips.
Rokath slashed his attention between Rapp and me, then ran a hand over his bare head. “There is a clothier not far from here. I will take you before our meeting.”
Why does everything have to be a battle with him?
“I could say the same of you, little imposter.”
Ignoring his mental words, I shot him a sarcastic, saccharine smile. “Thank you, master.”
Rapp pressed his lips together and took a half-step back, trying to hide his amusement. Rokath, on the other hand, offered me a wicked, feral grin that sent ice shattering through my veins. He never smiled, and this wasn’t one offered with pleasantries. This was one that screamed that he did, in fact, own me, and would remind me of it at every given opportunity. “Call me that again, Assyria. I love hearing you surrender to me. All I can picture is you on your knees for me, that smart mouth open and waiting for my cock.”
His words melted the ice in me and replaced it with hot need. My core throbbed at the picture he painted.
Just the bond, just the bond.
“Never,”
I shot back, my voice steadier than I anticipated.
“We’ll see,”
he grumbled, and I hated that he could sense the lust dripping from me. At least, like our hatred, it went both ways. He hadn’t come after he punished me, and since the bond wouldn’t let us seek pleasure without each other, I knew he had to be aching for it.
Rapp cleared his throat, reminding us both he was still present. “I’ll gather the officers while you drop Assyria off,”
he said, then excused himself.
Our sudden aloneness heightened the tension between us, and Rokath shifted almost imperceptibly toward me. My breath caught in my throat as his burgundy eyes blazed, reflecting my dilated pupils back to me.
“Come,”
he said, breaking our trance. Blinking, I returned to myself, then quickly followed him in the opposite direction. The center of camp was abuzz with activity, males coming and going and weaving their way through the chaos. Spices filled the air, wafting from dozens of fires where meat roasted and vegetables cooked.
“Stay close,”
Rokath warned, and I jogged to catch up, lengthening my stride. Grem and Zeec, my constant companions these days, had no trouble keeping up with their master’s pace. I was no different than them in Rokath’s eyes—just a pretty pet to order about to make himself feel more powerful.
After a few sharp turns, we arrived at a deep red tent, a bustle of males hurrying in and out of it. They all paused to salute the Halálhívó as we approached. Rokath ignored them and led me inside. To the left, a few males worked on a long table arranged with various items of clothing, while on the right, another group polished and sharpened weapons. We went directly to the one in the rear, where a leather clad male chatted with two others, swapping items.
“Halálhívó,”
the three greeted him with a closed-fisted salute.
“How can I help you?”
the one behind the table asked. He shooed the two away, and they were more than amenable to leaving. I hung back, waiting for Rokath to do whatever it was that he planned on doing.
“My fallen is in need of leather armor,”
he stated. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. To everyone besides Rokath and Rapp, I was the fallen. No name, just like Rokath. No worth other than my womb.
Exactly as it had always been. Why should I have expected anything different?
The male glanced past him to me. “Aye, a wise decision, Your Glory. I can make something from scratch for her or refit some of the smaller clothing we have.”
“Use new hides and fabrics,”
Rokath told him. This time, I had to smother my surprise. I figured he wouldn’t give me anything that might serve his precious army better than me.
“Yes, sir,”
the male said.
“I must attend the nightly meeting. I assume that you don’t need me to remain?”
Rokath groused.
“No, sir,”
he replied. “It will take me a few hours to make, but she should have something before retiring for the evening.”
“Good.”
Rokath rumbled in that authoritative way of his. “Stay,”
he told his hounds, and they both planted in place in the middle of the tent. No one would go in or out without their knowing.
He focused on me, eyes narrowed and mouth set in a hard line. Into my mind, he growled, “This is an opportunity for you to earn a sliver of trust. Have the clothes made and return to my tent. You may stop for food along your way back. Nowhere else.”
“I can take care of myself, you know,”
I shot back.
He left a grunt in his wake as he departed. Returning my attention to the clothier, I stepped forward. “What do you need me to do?”
“Come around here, I have a private room where I can take your measurements,”
he said, sweeping his arm out and indicating I should walk behind the table and past him. With a quick glance around the room, I did. The males’ working speed had slowed, no doubt listening to the exchange, and more than one watched surreptitiously out of the corner of his eye.
Could I blame them? I was likely the only female they’d seen for months with how strict Rokath was with his rules.
We slipped into a back room, where piles of unused fabric rested on even more tables. “Do you unpack all of this every day?”
I asked him.
“Aye,”
he replied, shuffling through a few layers before pulling out ones he wanted. “With an army this size, we work hours every night repairing everything from tents and clothing to weapons and shoes. Some ride in the wagons so they can continue the work throughout the day.”
From around his neck, he pulled a long strip of flexible fabric with evenly spaced marks along it. “Please hold out your arms like this.”
He demonstrated the stance, and I mirrored it, arms stretching straight to the side, and standing tall with my chin held high.
The clothier made quick work of my torso and height, noting the numbers on a slip of parchment beside his pile of fabric. “Halálhívó’s chosen, if you wouldn’t mind tucking your skirts between your legs as tight as you can, I can get a more accurate measurement of your legs.”
My cheeks flamed, though not out of modesty. That title was what the males used to refer to me when they were trying to be respectful. I’d overheard it on more than one occasion now—along with the not so nice terms. To hide my embarrassment, I quickly arranged my dress like he requested. Without touching me, he finished his work, then stepped back, attention sweeping over me, but not in a lecherous way. “Would you like full sleeves, short sleeves, or none?”
“Umm,”
I started, too shocked that he had asked for my opinion to be able to form more words than that.
“Why don’t I make you one of each?”
he offered, sensing my confusion.
“Yes, if you can.”
I nearly sighed with relief.
“You may have a seat there while you wait,”
he said, indicating a plush cushion in the corner.
I nodded and went to it, settling back while he worked. I played with the ends of my long hair, picking at any splitting strands. At this point, I was accustomed to the boredom, and I let my mind wander. Unfortunately, the first place it went was to Rokath’s bedroom at Gyor Palace. Clamping down on that memory and shoving it aside, I tried to think of Izgath instead. That pain was a sharp enough slice in my already tattered heart that it extinguished any desire for my mate.
Everyone I loved died.
It hadn’t been two weeks since Rokath burned Izgath on the pyre, and it had been three seasons since my family died. Their loss still held that acute ache, so similar to the days after they passed.
“If you’ll excuse me for a moment, I must retrieve a few items from out there,”
the male said, shattering my inner spiral.
“Of course,”
I responded, and he slipped away.
I was utterly alone. Which, at this moment, wasn’t the worst thing. Scanning quickly, I looked for any sign of a second exit. Grem and Zeec were in the main room, and Rokath was preoccupied with his meeting. The bond wasn’t begging for either of our attention. Noting that the corner was tied around a pole, rather than stretched, I raced to it, pulling on the knots at the bottom and in the middle to loosen them.
If I could just widen them enough to slip through, no one would be the wiser…
The bottom one fell away, leaving me a slit to squeeze through, and I jumped on my opportunity. Night had fallen when I burst out the back, only a few feet of space between the rear of it and another tent. Had I been one of the large males, I wouldn’t have fit, but with my small, lithe frame, I could shimmy between the rows.
I wiggled to the right, toward what looked to be a small thoroughfare, when male voices halted me in my tracks.
“Did you see the fallen with the Halálhívó? They went to the clothier. I wonder if she needs to wear something other than those matronly dresses for him to get hard.”
Another snorted a laugh. “Can you imagine how he fucks though? It’s probably all barked orders and pleasure for himself.”
“I bet he takes her from behind and finishes within a minute. No time to waste on such acts,”
another chirped, trying to mimic Rokath’s gravely tone.
I gritted my teeth and forced myself to remain still and quiet. If I couldn’t see them, they couldn’t see me.
“No way they are fucking. I bet he is loud, or will make her scream. Whether that’s pleasure or fear though, I wouldn’t know.”
“Aye, other than her riding beside him, he seems to want nothing to do with her,”
the first one spoke again.
“Wonder why she’s even here then? Seems suspicious to me. He’s never shown interest in having children before. All his focus is on winning. Why divert his attention?”
the second mused.
“He’s fucking brilliant. Maybe he knows something we don’t,”
the third suggested.
“Maybe her pussy is magic and will win us the war,”
the first joked, and the three roared with laughter.
Heat pricked my skin, and I dug my teeth into my lower lip in an attempt to prevent myself from jumping out and snapping at them.
“Shh, if he’s still around and hears us speaking this way, we’ll all be tied to the whipping post,”
a fourth voice entered the conversation.
“Oh, come on, we all know you worship the ground he walks on–”
“I’m almost finished with the first set if you’d like to try it on,”
I heard the clothier call out, and my heart leaped to my throat. He couldn’t catch me trying to escape. He’d tell Rokath in a heartbeat. So I hurried the two steps back to the tent, praying he hadn’t entered and found me missing. He burst through the flap the same time I did, and I plastered a smile on my face and tried to cover the loosened fabric with my body.
“Thank you. Do you mind if I change alone?”
I said in a rush.
“Oh, of course, I’ll just leave this here for you. Please inform me when you are dressed,”
he replied, placing the tunic on the table and backing away.
Air fled my lungs and my shoulders dropped as he disappeared.
That was too close.
Hurriedly, I secured the strings again, then went to the table. The leather tunic was sleeveless, flexible but thick, and the fabric was smooth beneath my palm. The pants were similar. I exchanged the dress for the armor, feeling strangely confident as I laced the tunic down one side.
When the clothier returned, he made adjustments until it fit snugly. “Now that I can have a better look at you, I will adjust the others similarly,”
he promised. His eyes caught on my scarred wrists as I dropped them to my sides again.
A blush pinkened my cheeks. “Thank you.”
“The others I’ll have to make tomorrow, and I shall ensure they are delivered to the Halálhívó’s tent. The hour is growing late, I’m afraid,”
he said, rolling up the discarded scraps of fabric.
“Yes, it is,”
I said, gathering my dress and leggings. Hunger gnawed at my belly, and I wanted to eat and return before Rokath did. He’d cause an uproar and I’d lose this seed of trust.
The clothier held back the flap for me, and I returned to the main area, finding Grem and Zeec right where I’d left them. “Come on, boys,”
I said, and they shot to their feet, framing me in a protective guard. Every single pair of eyes burned into my back as we exited the tent.
Even more landed on me when I was faced with having to retrieve my own food. I appreciated Rapp even more for how he’d handled that for me as I stood among the males, waiting my turn to approach the cook. The line all but dissipated around me with everyone giving me a wide berth. Grem growled at a soldier who crossed a little too close for his liking to return his dirty dishes.
“Not you too,”
I whisper-snapped at him.
His red eyes blinked up at me as if to say ‘I am just doing my job.’
“I know,”
I sighed, scratching behind his ears. Zeec butted my thigh with his head. “You’re greedy,”
I scolded him, but I offered him some affection anyway.
I’d devolved to talking to the dogs like they could understand me.
The cook said nothing as he handed me a bowl and bread. I thanked him anyway. I tried not to look any male in the eye as I strode through the dining tables, keeping my head high and shoulders back. But it didn’t stop the gossip from reaching my ears.
Fuck Rokath for putting me through all of this.
Fuck the Weaver, too.
It was as much her fault as it was his. Well, moreso since she wove this path for both of us. I stewed in my anger the entire trip back to Rokath’s tent. Unfortunately, he wasn’t there for me to unleash it on when I returned. So I ate with the company of Grem and Zeec, mulling over what I had heard in my single venture out without Rokath.
I wore a muzzle, unable to snap at those who slandered my name. I had to live this fucking lie, pretend I was something I was not, all to appease the most powerful Demons in the realm. All my life, I’d been forced to hold my tongue, punished if I did not, and I was tired of it.
The hounds climbed dutifully into bed with me after I’d finished my meal. I buried my face in one of the soft pillows and sighed. Grem and Zeec curled up on either side of me, and then Zeec rested his head on my leg as if he sensed I needed someone to comfort me too. Grem nudged me with his nose until my arms were wrapped around him.
That was enough to send me over the edge, and then, I cried myself to sleep.