50
As dusk fell, Rokath and Rapp led me through the maze of tents and into a small clearing that hugged the rugged valley walls. Grem and Zeec trotted alongside me, only peeling off when they spotted a trickle of water splashing off the rough face.
“This should be private enough for a lesson,”
Rapp stated, giving me a wink before settling on a boulder.
“Aye,”
Rokath grumbled, glancing behind me at the males readying themselves for the evening’s rest. Spices and the scent of roasting meat drifted on a light breeze, making my stomach grumble. After nearly puking my dinner up the previous evening from how hard Rokath had pushed me, we’d opted to delay our meal.
The Halálhívó’s intense regard settled over me. Those thick brows dipped ever so slightly over his deep burgundy eyes, and his jaw was set in a hard line. I squared my shoulders and raised my fists. “I’m ready,”
I said, determination threading through me.
He made a noise deep in his throat and then circled me, shadows swirling around his muscled arms. Dragging in a breath, I let my own expand out of me with my exhale.
Then, he lunged. I barely managed to slip beneath his strike and move out of the way before he pressed forward again, sending me dancing backward.
“Use your magic!”
Rapp called out, and Grem released a sharp bark of encouragement.
With Rokath’s next punch, I used the shadows to knock his hand to the side and then followed up with a kick to his thigh. “Good,”
Rokath praised, his gravelly voice rolling over the word. “Don’t hold back, Assyria. You will not be able to hurt me.”
As he circled out, I aimed a swift kick to his calf. “You sure about that?”
I teased, offering him a saccharine smile.
His face remained impassive despite my own stinging shin from the harsh contact. “That smart mouth of yours will only land you in trouble,”
he growled. My core clenched from a heady mix of the heat in his eyes and the undercurrent of threat in his tone.
“Or on your dick,”
I muttered under my breath.
I’d spent far too much time among the males of this army; my mouth was running as crudely as theirs these days.
Rokath raised a brow. “Would you like that, little imposter?”
I swallowed and pointedly ignored his question. Channeling my energy elsewhere, I feinted movement to my left, just like he’d taught me the previous evening, only to deliver another kick to his thick thigh. He caught my foot and yanked me forward, hiking me higher on his hip. “This is where you need to place a kick like that,”
he reminded me, pressing my shin into the soft spot below his ribcage.
Exertion and our close proximity sent my heart thudding in my chest. The bond too made its pleasure known, humming contentedly. We lingered there far longer than we should have before Rokath released his grip. Stepping away was harder than I anticipated.
Tension hung like a heavy fog around us, and I almost forgot Rapp and the hounds were with us until Rapp blew away the cloud with a joke. “Keep that up and I won’t be able to sleep tonight,”
he chuckled.
Heat crept into my cheeks as Rokath pierced him with a lethal glare. “Again,”
he grumbled to me.
I pulled on the strings of my memory and attempted one move after another, both from what I’d learned while pretending to be Vagach and what Rokath had demonstrated the previous evening. He had been displeased with my sloppy form and had groused endlessly about how his Vezet? needed to be more mindful of how and what they taught the new recruits.
So very typical of him.
The remainder of our training focused on the basics again—where to aim certain strikes, how to avoid ones flying in my direction, combinations that flowed well together.
It wasn’t until I was utterly drenched in sweat that he said, “Lie on the ground.”
“Excuse me?”
I spluttered out, mouth popping open.
Rapp howled with laughter. How he continued to find Rokath and I’s situation so amusing was impossible for me to understand. I got the sense he was rooting for us to either kill each other or couple right in the open. Maybe both at the same time.
Rokath pinched the bridge of his nose. “A much bigger male than you will likely try to put you on the ground where you are easiest to control. I want to show you a few ways to escape so that you can run away if necessary.”
“Oh,”
I replied, a sheepish smile spreading across my face. I wiped sweat from my brow with the back of my hand. “I thought you intended something else.”
“I am aware,”
he grumbled, slicing his attention to Rapp.
I sank to the earth, wincing as the dirt mixed with sweat and made me even more filthy than I already was. “Like this?”
“Flat on your back,”
Rokath instructed. I settled there, trying to shove the obscene thoughts of him between my thighs into a tiny box where I could lock them away for all eternity.
Our bond flared as he straddled my hips. His riotous burgundy eyes disappeared for a moment, fingers flexing, as he attempted to regain control of himself. The lust that flowed between us was almost impossible to ignore, despite my best attempts.
Stupid mating bond.
Our size difference should have made his resting there crush me, and yet he pressed down with the barest hint of force. I realized then that he didn’t want to frighten me, that he wanted me to feel I had a semblance of power in the situation. My heart twisted as his eyes sprung open again and collided with mine.
“I’m going to place my hand around your neck, and I want you to use both of your arms to trap mine against your body and roll me off,”
he murmured. Something hard dug into my belly. A low curse followed it.
Rolling my lips together, I smothered the snicker that threatened to escape. Yet when his strong fingers brushed against the sensitive skin under my jaw, a little sound that was just wanton enough to be embarrassing slipped out.
“Focus,”
Rokath said through clenched teeth. Whether the warning was for him or for me, I wasn’t certain.
Sucking in much needed air, I hugged his arm to my chest and bridged my hips, tossing him off of me. He went easily, and I scrambled away before popping to my feet.
“Good,”
he growled, sitting back on his heels. “We’ll do that a dozen more times so you imprint the motion on your muscles.”
The way they trembled as I lay on the ground again had nothing to do with the exertion of our training and everything to do with the way Rokath looked as he positioned himself above me. The tattoos that bunched and flexed across his bare torso. The way his arms rippled as he reached for my throat.
Fates, help me.
They must have heard, for I managed to do as many repetitions as Rokath required without requesting he remove the rest of his clothes. He placed increasing pressure on me, forcing me to use more strength to buck him off. After I failed three attempts in a row, he rose and proffered me his hand. “We will continue this tomorrow.”
I accepted the help and groaned as I returned to my feet. “A blessing from the Giver. I’m starving.”
“Me too,”
Rapp interjected, once again reminding us of his presence.
Zeec trotted over and nudged my hand over his head until my fingers rested behind his ears. I gave them a scratch. “Greedy, greedy,”
I cooed while Rokath retrieved his shirt.
Rapp approached with Grem. “You are improving, Assyria. More will come with time.”
“Thanks,”
I sighed, glancing around as night continued to fall around us. Fires were alive and dancing all through the canyon, casting long shadows on the walls as the males moved about.
When Rokath returned, I asked, “So when can I start training with weapons?”
He cocked his head. “Why, so you can follow through on your original promise to kill me?”
I bit my lip through a grin. “Maybe.”
He rolled his eyes. “You need food to shut up that mouth of yours.”
Spinning on his heel was instruction enough to follow him. Rapp and I whispered insults about him, loud enough for Rokath to hear, while we traversed the chaos in search of food. As we ate, tossing morsels for the dogs, Rapp related the latest camp gossip, and I offered him my most scandalized and shocked reactions. After spending months in a war camp, I’d become immune to the crass words that Priestess Anara had always shamed. In all honesty, I felt more like one of the males than anything, despite being constantly reminded of my sex by the continued stares. At least Rokath had offered me a semblance of purpose of late with both scouting and fighting.
My mate remained silent as Rapp and I chatted, though he studied me with something unreadable hiding in his eyes. I glanced at him far too often, heat flaring between us at every crash of our gazes.
A young male emerged from the crowd carrying a scroll. My attention snagged on him immediately. Rokath glanced behind him, brows dipping.
“Halálhívó, this has just arrived from the High Priestess,”
he said, kneeling and holding out the parchment.
Rokath accepted it, then broke the seal. What would Kiira write to him about now? We hadn’t had a message from her since we left, at least that I knew about.
“And for you, Hadvezér Rapp,”
the messenger said, rising and proffering a second folded note to him.
Rapp accepted it while Rokath scanned a few lines of his. Then, he went utterly still. “Dismissed,”
he growled to the male, who wasted no time leaving.
“What is it?”
Rapp asked, reaching for Rokath’s paper.
Rokath didn’t relinquish it. I stopped breathing when he lifted his gaze. “It’s for you,”
he murmured, and by the way he looked at me, nothing good was written there.
Kiira had been meant to write to me about Orlus…
I snatched at the page, but Rokath jerked it back. “Let’s return to our tent first.”
Tears pricked my eyes and I slapped a hand over my mouth to smother a sob. I managed to nod, and Rapp quickly gathered our plates while Rokath steered me through the crowd. Every step felt like a lifetime, my mind racing with all the possibilities. I quickened my pace as the first tears fell. I would not cry in front of all these males and reinforce their belief that females didn’t belong here with them.
“Give it to me,”
I said with more intensity than I meant the moment we burst through the black flaps. Rokath offered the paper immediately. A set of candles flickered on the bedside table, and I raced to them for extra light to read by.
Assyria,
I’m so sorry it took so long to get this information to you. Much upheaval has occurred in Stryi since your departure. Priestess Anara quickly discovered your disappearance, and she forced a search of House Olmuth’s estate, where they found Vagach’s body buried among the trees. Olrus admitted his fault and swore that you fled out of fear he would do the same to you.
He was burned the following day.
The new Kormánzó Xannirin appointed journeyed south along with the new priestesses, as you remember, with strict instruction from us. By the time he arrived, Priestess Anara had inserted herself in the estate and stepped far outside the bounds of her Fates-given duty. Her actions regarding Olrus, especially given the information the new Kormánzó possessed, forced him to burn her too.
I am so sorry for your loss, Assyria. I hope you can take some comfort in the knowledge that Anara will never harm anyone again and by revealing her actions to me, you have ensured that any others practicing this ritual have been removed from their posts.
I hope Rokath has lost some of his brutish attitude toward you and that he will be able to comfort you now. If not, know I am thinking of you and praying for your healing.
All my love,
Kiira
The world spun, and I sank to my knees. “No,”
I whimpered, the words blurring as I fought to read them again.
Olrus had been burned. He had taken the blame for Vagach’s murder. He’d died protecting me too. Another slash dug into my heart, the pain so acute I was certain it would never end.
What had I done in a past life to deserve this level of loyalty, Reaper? Why does everyone I love have to die, Weaver? What sort of blessing is this unique magic if I can’t save anyone with it, Giver?
“Assyria,”
Rokath murmured, dropping to the ground beside me.
Rapp entered the tent a moment later. “What’s wrong?”
he asked immediately, coming around and sitting on the bed. The concern in his eyes shattered the last pane of my self control.
“Olrus,”
I cried, clutching the parchment to my stomach. “He–he died. Because of me.”
Rokath wrapped his strong hands around my shoulders, and I allowed him to pull me into his lap. Chest heaving, throat working, eyes burning, I couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, for the force of my grief.
“It wasn’t your fault–”
Rokath attempted to reassure me, but I cut him off.
“Yes it was!”
I gasped, digging the heels of my palms into my eyes and trying to stem the flow of tears. “It should have been me. I should have died for my actions.”
“The Weaver had other plans for you,”
Rapp offered, his tone gentle.
“Fuck the Weaver!”
I snapped. “Fuck the Giver, fuck the Reaper. Fuck the Fates. Their gifts have all been curses.”
Rokath wrapped himself tighter around me, and I collapsed against his arms, sobs wracking my entire frame.
Rapp joined us on the floor, smoothing my hair and pulling a piece of fabric from somewhere and drying my nose for me. “I know you lost your parents, sister, and the Vezet?. Now Olrus. Your grief is overwhelming right now. I see you, Assyria. We’re not going anywhere.”
He kicked Rokath’s shin, jostling us both. “We aren’t,”
Rokath promised. “I’ve got you, Assyria.”
“You don’t know that,”
I choked out. They didn’t realize the Reaper had cursed me. That was the only explanation as to why this kept happening.
The males spoke around my weeping, but I paid them no attention. I could hear nothing, see nothing, feel nothing, other than sorrow.
I was limp when Rokath rose and the two worked to settle me in bed. Grem and Zeec hopped up a moment later. Zeec nudged my shoulder with his cold nose before licking my face. I didn’t have the energy, the will, to push him away. Grem settled with his head on my thigh while Rokath and Rapp exchanged a few more words.
Then, Rokath tied the flaps and returned to me. The mattress dipped beneath his weight as he laid down beside me, stroking my cheek with the back of his knuckles. He wiped tear after tear away, saying nothing.
Eventually, my breathing evened out, but my eyes remained swollen. My heart shredded into a thousand pieces as reality settled over me. I turned on my side, curling around the dogs. Rokath did the same to me. His hand rested on my stomach, pressing lightly against it as if he were reminding me that I was still here, still alive.
I wanted to turn around and scream at him to get away from me. That by comforting me, he was dooming himself to die. This curse the Reaper surely had placed on me was only going to end in tragedy for him too. For all of the Demons. Allowing myself to linger in his embrace was dangerous because I was so close to falling for him.
The thought hit me like a bolt of lightning. Fear slithered up my spine and another sob wracked my frame.
Yet I couldn’t drag myself away from him. I drank in his heat, greedy for his affection, and shifted closer to him still. His arm tightened, and a sense of safety settled over me—one that had been so absent in my life for so long, I hadn’t thought myself capable of experiencing it again.
“Sleep, Assyria,”
Rokath said, the gravel in his voice vibrating against my back. I was beyond exhausted, and careening into oblivion was the only guaranteed way out of this agony.
Rokath couldn’t love me, and I couldn’t love him.
Because everyone I loved, everyone who loved me, always died.
And I couldn’t take it anymore.