Chapter 6
Chapter
Six
LARELLIN
“Come now, little pet. I know you’re awake.” The deep voice drags me to full consciousness.
I sit up, my head swimming as I look around. “What—”
“You fainted.” Vander, the creature from before, sits across from me. We’re in some sort of parlor. A roaring fire is to my right, and I’m sitting on some sort of couch. We never had anything half so nice back in Raingreen. The fabric feels soft under my fingers as I scoot back into the corner.
Vander is across from me on a similar couch. The furniture is huge, but he almost dwarfs it, sitting with his arms splayed out across the back, his body relaxed as he watches me.
“Do you do that a lot?” he asks.
I shake my head.
“Good. I’d hate to have to go around catching you all the time.” He sighs.
The fire crackles, and I pull my knees up to my chest and wrap my arms around them.
“What was that—” I glance toward some wide doors that I assume lead back to the dining room. “That monster?”
He smirks. “I’ll rather enjoy telling Brin you think he’s a monster.”
“Brin?”
“He’s a wolven. Surely, you’ve heard of those?” His face is lit by the fire on one side, the other in darkness. The hint of scales along the bottom of his throat glisten in the dancing light.
“I’ve heard of lots of things that live in Oblivion.” My voice is scratchy, faintly trembling. “None of them good.”
“I can’t dispute that.” He drags a hand through his hair, the locks falling past his ears but not quite to his shoulders. His golden hair has a slight wave to it. “Nevertheless, Brin is a wolven, one of the few I allow into the keep.”
“Wolven steal babies from their beds.” I tear my gaze away from him and look at the fire, a statue of a dragon poised in the center of it, the fire licking all around it and lighting up its eyes a shade of deep crimson.
“They kill them in the forests of Oblivion and leave their bones for the carrion birds to pick.”
A sharp burst of laughter shocks me, and I cringe back against the couch.
Vander has his head back, another bark of a laugh ripping from him before he meets my gaze again.
“That’s funny to you?” I ask.
“In fact, it is. Is that what they tell you about the creatures of Oblivion over in the mortal realm? That we steal babies?”
“The wolven do. The witches too, for their dark sacrifices. The vampires—”
“Let me guess, they drink babies’ blood on the full moon or something?”
“They drink it to extend their lives.” I nod.
He scrubs a hand along his jaw, the raspiness of his shadowy beard loud despite the distance between us. “Gods. You mortals really know nothing of us, do you?”
“We know enough to never set foot beyond our borders,” I shoot back, pulling bravado from some unknown place inside me. I don’t feel brave. I don’t feel anything except scared, sore, and hungry, but I’m not going to tell this creature any of that.
“I can’t fault you for that, mortal. Oblivion is a deadly place for your kind.
Not out of spite, as you seem to believe, but simply out of necessity.
Oblivion is an unforgiving land, even for immortals.
But we adapted to thrive here, despite the constant threat of death.
Mortals, however, lead soft lives. They’re brief and full of carelessness.
You are far too breakable, too delicate to survive in our world. ”
Something new blooms inside me. Something hotter than the fear and hunger. Anger. “‘Soft lives?’” I scoff, and I enjoy when his golden eyebrows rise in surprise. “‘Careless?’ You don’t know what you’re talking about. You know nothing about mortal lives, nothing about my life.”
“I know you were thrown away by your own people, offered to what you consider to be a monster. Was that not careless?”
“That was …” I swallow the word that rises in my throat. Cruel. It was cruel of them to sacrifice me for nothing more than a chest of gold. I fall silent.
The fire crackles.
I’m grateful for its warmth, for the solid ground beneath me, for whatever brief respite this is from what awaits me.
I glance up at him again, studying him as he openly studies me.
“What’s going to happen to me?” I feel a sliver of pride at being able to get the question out without so much as a whimper.
“What do you want to happen to you?” He keeps staring at me as if he sees everything, as if he can see what’s under my clothes, under my skin. As if he can see my beating, broken heart.
“I want to go home.” That’s not entirely true. I just want to return to my mother.
“The Bargain has been struck.”
I don’t bother arguing. He’s right. I was bartered away to the dragon he serves.
“What are you?” I ask. “You have wings and scales. Are you a child of the dragon somehow?” I feel dumb after asking it. How could a dragon mate with anything remotely the size of this male in front of me. “Or are you another creature like it?”
“Creature?” he asks, his tone lightly taunting.
I close my eyes, exhaustion washing over me. Even holding this conversation is taxing. “What should I call you?”
“I already told you. I am called Vander. And you are Larellin.”
“But what are you?” I press.
“Your master.”
My eyes open at that. “I have no master.”
“The men who chained you to that stone and left you for the dragon, were they not your masters?” he asks.
“They were …” I hesitate.
“They chose to leave you as dragon fodder, and yet you claim they were not your masters? Perhaps I’ve lost my command of the common tongue. Perhaps I don’t understand having dominion over others.”
“I was chosen. The chalice—it chose me. They were only doing—”
“Ach.” He waves a large hand. “Making excuses for your executioners.”
I press my forehead to my knees. Shame rises in me, heating my face.
Gods, he’s right. I was about to excuse what Lord Rayid and Kanelden did.
When I know it’s wrong. The Bargain itself is wrong.
Forcing anyone to sacrifice themselves—and it’s not lost on me that it’s always a maiden in Raingreen, always one from the poorer part of the village—is wrong.
“I see I’ve twisted your mortal mind into a knot.” He rises.
I can’t escape him, but I try, pressing myself against the back of the sofa as he moves toward me. It only takes one step of his long legs to reach me. “Come. You will eat. I’ve made sure no one will disturb you.”
Without asking any permission, he scoops me into his arms.
“Hey!” I squirm and try to pry his arms from me.
He stops in the doorway to the hall. “Shall I drop you?”
“I can walk!”
“You’re weaker than a newborn cockleshell fairy.” He scowls and continues carrying me into the hall.
He’s not wrong. I mean, I don’t know what a cockleshell fairy is, but I feel the weakness in my bones. Too much has happened. I can barely catch my breath, let alone fight a captor who’s twice my size.
I stop struggling, letting him carry me as if I’m nothing more than a child. But he’s warm, and he smells like the soap I used in his bathing chamber. And there’s something underneath, almost like a toasted bit of sugar, browned but not blackened.
“I had Lenka bring your dinner here.” His deep voice startles me. I didn’t realize I’d nearly dozed off in his arms.
Sitting me on the bed, he stands, his full height still a shock to me. He’s huge. No one in the mortal realm could ever fight someone—no, something—like him and win.
He pulls a small table across the floor and positions it in front of me. A plate of food with a tall goblet of wine. The plate is huge, the goblet something that I’ll have to use two hands to lift. Everything here is made for giants like Vander.
“Eat.” He pushes the table closer.
The scent of roast meat hits my nose, and my stomach rumbles.
An aching pain twists in my gut, saliva pooling in my mouth.
I’m starving. But when I look down at the plate, I hesitate.
In all the stories we mortals ever heard, eating food from Oblivion is always dangerous.
It could be cursed or poisoned, or worse, it could bind you to a contract.
Some sort of unholy alliance with the fae folk or the demons.
There’s simply no way to know what you’re getting into.
My stomach growls again, my hands shaking as I clutch them together in my lap.
He crosses his arms over his wide chest, his brows drawing together. “Humans have to eat. The entire keep can hear your stomach crying out for food. What is wrong? Do you not enjoy this type of meal?”
I wouldn’t know. We rarely got meat in the village. Only on high feast days. If we were lucky, we’d get scraps from the castle, but that was never guaranteed. Root vegetables and thin stews—that’s what I’m used to.
“Will it hurt me?” I ask him.
“What?” If he looked confused before, now he’s completely flustered.
“I mean, if I eat this, will it … Will it make me do something? Will it poison me? What’s in it?”
He stares at me for long enough with those probing green eyes that I have to look down.
A sigh that verges on a growl ripples through the air, and then his rough voice. “Eat. Or don’t. I’ll be back before nightfall.” He turns on his heel and strides out, irritation in each step. The door closes with a hard thunk.
I take a deep breath and try to steady myself as I watch the door, half afraid it’ll swing open again.
It doesn’t. He left. That’s a good thing.
But he said he’d be back at nightfall. I glance at the bed I’m sitting on.
It’s huge. Big enough for him. He said this was our room.
Does he intend to force me once the sun sets?
He’s a creature of Oblivion, cruel and foreign.
I have no idea what he’s capable of. And worse than that, he clearly serves the DragonKin, linked to them so closely that he bears the dragon’s marks.
I drag in a deep breath, the scent of the rich food overwhelming my senses.
I eye the plate. It’s at least two different types of meat.
Nothing else. No vegetables. I grab the fork.
It’s heavy, shining like silver and far different than the wooden utensils I’m accustomed to.
Tentatively, I poke around the plate, sending small tendrils of steam up from the juicy meat.
My mouth is watering again. But gods, how do I know if it’s safe?
My stomach cramps, my head spinning a little.
I realize it doesn’t matter if it’s poisoned.
I’m starving and terrified and this may very well be my last meal.
With the shaking fork, I spear a piece of the browned meat.
It’s tender, coming apart easily as I lift it to my mouth.
It smells better than anything I’ve even come close to eating.
“What if it’s mortal flesh?” my mind whispers. My fingers falter, and I drop the fork. I can’t trust it.
Though it makes my stomach wrench even more painfully, I push away from the table and crawl away from the plate.
With what strength I have left, I drag the deep green blanket off the bed and onto the floor.
Pressing myself into the back corner of the room, I wrap the blanket around me and clench my eyes shut.
The stone wall at my back gives me a slight sense of comfort. No one can sneak up on me.
But that doesn’t matter. Not when I can’t keep my eyes open. No matter how hard I try, no matter how afraid I am of the giant creature—Vander—returning, I can’t stay awake.
I jolt awake from a dream where the wolven was ripping me apart as the fire creatures sharpened their knives to serve me to Vander who watched it all with slitted reptilian eyes.
I swipe at my sweaty forehead and sit up. My back aches, my mouth so dry I can barely swallow. How long have I been here? I glance at the windows, the light faint. A cold shudder rushes down my spine. It’s nightfall.
With terror rising in my throat like acid I stare at the door. Vander will return soon. I have no dream of escaping. Not when wolven and no telling what else is waiting out there for me.
Forcing myself to my feet, I drop the blanket and step over it, stumbling to the windows where the sun is rapidly fading, its rays barely illuminating the tips of the jagged mountains where it rose earlier this morning.
I grip the sash, blood pounding in my ears.
The stone is cold in my grip, my palms clammy.
What did Vander say, something about death being the only thing outside this window?
I glance back at the bed and swallow hard.
When I was chosen to be sacrificed, I knew it would mean my end.
Being violated wasn’t part of it. It never even occurred to me.
But now, everything’s different. Now, I’m not only to be sacrificed, I’m to be defiled.
Turning back to the window, I watch the last bits of sun disappear from the cold peaks in the distance.
I haven’t had any choices in my life. Not really.
Not after my father was marked a traitor and I earned the derision of Lord Rayid’s son.
And especially not once my name was drawn from the Eternal Chalice.
I run my hand up the window until I find the latch.
It gives a slight squeak as I open it, the window gliding outward and letting in a frigid gust of wind.
No, I haven’t had choices, none that were my own, anyway.
But this is something I can choose. Gripping the edges of the window, I pull myself up, my muscles shaking as I perch myself on the edge.
The wind whips past, screaming along the faces of the stone that extend out on all sides.
My eyes water at the frigid onslaught. At least, that’s the reason I want them to water. Not because I’m weak and scared.
I sit on the windowsill, my legs dangling against the stone.
I inhale deeply, breathing in Oblivion. Closing my eyes, I say goodbye to my mother.
I pray to the gods that she doesn’t suffer because of me, that she doesn’t mourn me, that she is able to continue despite my absence, despite my death.
The window bumps against my back, as if urging me on, the wind and the glass co-conspirators.
I scoot farther out, my hands braced on the sides of the windowsill. “I’m sorry, Mother.” A sob almost chokes me. I breathe the cold air in again and again. “Please forgive me.” I sit and breathe through my grief, letting the tears fall.
My hands slip from the stone, and I lean forward.
“Father, catch me,” I whisper, the sound falling away on the wind as I follow.