Chapter Forty-Three
T he following night we made camp on a snowy mountain side.
I had seen forests, deserts, mountains, seas, valleys, and so much more during this journey. Things I never had the chance to lay my eyes on before. With time, I found myself feeling more free as a captive than I had as a princess. Especially now that I was a somewhat decent rider. Frost and I maintained a far quicker pace, though I was still the least skilled of our group. I did not think I would ever be great at it, but the silver mare made up for my lacking with ease.
I had been training with Bellamy and each of his Trusted daily, quickly learning to balance the use of my power and my physical strength. The first time I disarmed Ranbir the entire group had screamed with joy. Then I bested Winona. Then Cyprus. Then Noe.
My victory over the Moon had been a shock. She was, after all, a trained assassin. Moreover, Bellamy had been instructing them all to block me. They each succeeded at various rates and capacities, but it did add to the already difficult task of fighting while trying to focus my mind and power. So I did not let the win go to my head, barely even allowing for celebration.
Harder and harder I trained, pushing myself every day with the image of Tish’s face in my head, her horror at the sight of me bloodied and broken. Never again, I chanted in my mind.
Henry had been baffled when I finally took him down on day forty-three. Actually, the only one who was not surprised was Bellamy. The rest of us, including myself, sat still for a moment. We stared and stared and stared at my dagger against Henry’s heart, his back against the snow.
But Bellamy started clapping .
When we finally snapped out of our daze, he ran to me, hoisting me in the air and spinning. I laughed, leaning my head back as he called a fresh wind to us, blowing my hair around my face. The others quickly joined in, Henry included, though he called it luck.
I had never felt so powerful, so unstoppable. Still, I reminded myself I had two more to take down.
Three days later, I beat Lian.
The swordmaster, who was also a Captain in Bellamy’s forces, was the toughest behind the prince. She was strong and fast, incredibly dominant on the field. Unlike Cyprus and Ranbir, who held back and learned their lesson, she never once gave me anything less than her all. When I broke her shields and saw her next move, I jumped out of reach and smashed down on her sword hand with my elbow. The loud crack had been deafening.
I repeatedly told all of them that without my powers I would never beat them, that my ability to read their thoughts was an unfair advantage. But Lian disagreed, insisting that we all had abilities which helped us, even as Ranbir healed her shattered wrist. Henry’s portaling had certainly made it hard. Lian’s wind had knocked the breath out of me more times than I could count. Noe’s raw magic had even taken out a chunk of my shoulder once.
When Bellamy and I fought, my protests rang true. He blocked my power, resisting my violent assaults on his mind and body. I was relentless in my attacks, but I never won. In fact, I lost quite easily. There was once when I thought I had worn down his mental shields enough to break through, but the second I had felt myself slip past, he kicked my feet from under me and I ate a mouthful of dirt.
Now we circled one another, both predators fighting for dominance. I had learned how to wield a sword, but often relied on the blade I kept sheathed to my thigh. That and my powers. Today was no different.
Bellamy struck the second he felt me within his head, which was guarded tightly by a wall of black flame. I could practically taste the smoke, feel the heat, sense the burn. But I welcomed it, parrying his swipe and kicking his back. He did not so much as stumble, spinning low to face me once more. Bouncing lightly from foot to foot, I scoured his shield for even the slightest weakness, the smallest hole.
The prince would not give me a chance to grab hold, charging me once more. Our blades sang to the mountain as they connected, steel meeting steel with a deadly kiss. Back and forth we swung until Bellamy drew first blood. My leg screamed in agony as he sliced through the area just above my knee. Blood oozed out of me, but I continued on, dodging his next attack.
Bellamy had told me in the beginning that those who I would need a sword against would not hear reason or hold back; they would kill me if I let them. Which meant no rules. I was to use every weapon in my arsenal, and he would do the same. Though he never did use his powers beyond a simple gust of wind or shake of earth. He had never so much as smacked me with snow or heated my sword. Still, I never came close to besting him.
Which was why I knew what I would need to do to beat Bellamy.
This time, when he came for my back, I turned, facing him head on. He ran into me, taking us both to the ground until he sat straddling me from above. I feigned exhaustion, allowing him to think me weak, because that would be my saving grace one day.
When he gave me a dimpled smile, his lips not far from mine, I reached up and cupped his face with both hands. His startled expression was all I needed to encourage my plan. I leaned in, letting my eyes flutter closed, and just when our lips met in a soft caress, I sprung.
My power flooded his mind, tearing through his shield. He was unsuspecting, confused, and unsteady. It was everything he could not afford to be in my presence, because it was all the opportunity I needed. Suddenly, I was him and he was me and everything I wanted was mine for the taking.
Hello, demon, I said in his head.
The prince flinched, rearing back at the realization that he was too late to stop me, though he tried to force my power from himself. He thrashed on the ground as I squeezed, adding more and more pressure in his temples. The others barely breathed, every one of them stunned into silence. Then, as easily as saying the words myself, I fed Bellamy a sentence I had been plotting for days.
He relaxed, straightening and moving to rest on one knee, bowing to me.
“I concede, for you are far stronger than I—a foolish demon—could ever be. All hail, Asher. A gorgeous and talented fae with skill beyond compare.” With that, I too got down on my knees, placing my dagger against his throat.
“It seems you have been bested, Elemental,” I spoke, exhilaration heavy on my face. I was bragging, being a sore winner of sorts, but I did not care. I had beat him.
The group burst into laughter, adding in cheers here and there. But Bellamy did not look away from me.
Our heaving chests met in steady intervals, the smell of cinnamon and smoke wafting to me and heating my body. In that moment, I forgot about the audience we had, ignored the warning bells in my own mind, and pushed away the hurt we had caused one another. Because the feel of him against me was intoxicating. The kind of addiction that tore you apart and left you shattered on a floor unable to think of, or want, anything else.
The prince seemed to understand, to follow my thought process and agree. His breaths came harder, loud in my ears and hot on my face.
“I do so love the sight of you holding that dagger to my neck, Princess. Perhaps we could do this every day,” he said, his mouth forming into a smirk.
I knew what he wanted me to do, to say. My mind considered what it would mean to say I was his, to give myself to the demon who stole me two months ago. Who might still plan to use me. The strange fae’s words from my dream all those nights ago still rang in my head, clear and foreboding.
“Any who you allow into your heart will surely betray you. The prince will sooner cut your head from your neck than love you.”
Before I could say anything, or even think further, a slow clap sounded from behind me. The group went silent, all of us adjusting our bodies to seek the source of the sound. There, at the edge of our campsite, was a group of at least five dozen demons.
My body went cold at the sight of them, dressed all in black, with hooded cloaks and mighty swords that seemed to gleam in the fading sun. A rush of adrenaline, fear, and hatred washed into the air, stripping it of the joy that had been there before. Now, I was surrounded by the growing tension, digging into my head and making my body buzz with the need to fight.
The demon in front, a tall male with blush pink hair and dark brown eyes, lowered his hood. Bellamy and I both stood, his body moving to slightly cover mine. I wanted to argue, to shove my way to the front and prove that I could never again be harmed at the hands of a spineless male. Instead, I remained quiet, assessing.
The pink-haired demon was likely their leader, and I found my power urging me towards him, like an itch that needed to be scratched. I tested his mental barriers, finding them weak and flimsy. Inside his head was a mess of red, as if blood dripped from every surface. This male was vicious, killing for sport and regularly selling slaves on the black market. I internally shivered, not quite sure if I should attack now and ask questions later, or if that would be worse. Though I vowed no matter what, he would die for his crimes.
“What an interesting display. They told me you were powerful, but not once did they mention your ability to fight. Convenient detail to leave out,” he said, his voice higher than I thought it would be, a sort of raspy whine. The second he said “they,” images of Mia and Xavier flashed through his mind.
I watched as he struck a deal with them, vowing to bring me back alive and kill the rest. I listened as he promised to also deliver his own prince’s head in a box to them.
Rage filled my vision with red, and I had to force myself to let go of his mind before I did something hasty. Bellamy reached back, his fingertips grazing my arm, as if he knew that I was close to losing my control. The one problem with having the hemlock out of my system was that now I had far more power than I ever possessed before. Maintaining a hold on it all was difficult, to say the least.
“Who are you?” Bellamy asked, his voice bored and uninterested. The pink-haired demon cocked his head to the side, eyes narrowing. Oh, he must have been quite notorious to have the audacity to show this type of vanity. Not only did he expect us to know him, he wanted us to. Needed, even.
“I am the O’Malley Harligold, renowned privateer, and I come for your lovely lady there. Maybe this need not be bloody. Hand her over to me, and you may all go about your evening in peace,” he offered with a grand gesture around our campsite, his voice boisterous.
Bellamy’s anger seemed to peak at the suggestion, tensing his shoulders. One fist lay clenched at his side, as if attempting to fight his urge to lift the sword in his other. His Trusted stood ready, each armed and eyeing the large group in front of us.
O’Malley Harligold straightened, and through his mind I felt his resolve mixing with excitement. He wanted the fight, the bloodshed. Gore was his entertainment. Unfortunately for him, I had recently discovered my own affinity towards violence.
“I highly suggest you reconsider, because I guarantee you that this will only end with your cock shoved down your throat and your eyes gouged from their sockets,” Bellamy said, his voice a low timbre that sent chills up my spine. O’Malley scoffed, the group of demons behind him looking far more uneasy than their leader. “And when the Princess has had her fun with you, I will gladly remove your ugly head from your shoulders.”
I laughed then, unable to contain it. The confidence Bellamy had in me was incredibly reassuring. I readied myself for the first test. A chance for me to measure what I had learned with no restraint.
The Manipulator eagerly awaited.
“Pity, it seems we will need to do this the hard way, Ayad. Let us hope your bloody death does not frighten the fae princess too much,” O’Malley said, anger alight in his eyes. His pride was hurt, I could sense that without attempting to maintain footing in his mind.
I decided then that perhaps he would like an example of just how frightening this would become.