Chapter 2 Shake it Off
~ brEN ~
Almost an hour later, my hand visibly trembled as I reached for the farmgirl blouse I’d hung in the wardrobe when Donavyn and I were here.
I gripped the material like it was a lifeline and pulled it off the hanger to put it on as quickly as I could, with fingers that shook so badly the buttons kept slipping from my grasp.
My head was silent, but for a strange, buzzing, hum inside my skull, like a wasp was trapped in there, banging between my temples, trying to get out.
Ruin, looming over me, smiling, the golden sun behind him as he grasped my braid in one fist and pulled my head back so hard I couldn’t move—
My breath rushed out of me. I reached for the skirt, tripping when I caught a toe stepping into the waistband and pitched forward with a small cry, catching myself in time to stop my nose smacking on the floorboards. But my knees cracked.
It was such a little thing, but a wave of shivering overtook me and my throat tightened.
Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.
You can not cry.
Swallowing the lump that wanted to make my eyes water, I pushed back to my feet and looked down at myself.
A simple, cotton, half-buttoned blouse hung over my hips.
It looked like a nightdress.
The full skirt lay in a crumpled mess on the ground. I knew I should put it on, that wearing these clothes would make me far less conspicuous.
But the skirts could tangle my legs in a fight.
The blouse offered no protection when I flew.
And when my head snapped up because there were footsteps in the hallway outside the room, I caught sight of myself in that little, oval mirror on the wall and I looked… weak.
I watched the color flood my cheeks at that thought, and I turned away as soon as I was certain the footsteps had gone to the stairs and down.
There was only a moment of indecision, then I moved, grabbing the skirt and rehanging it in the wardrobe, unbuttoning the blouse with jerky fingers and whipping it off to hang next to the skirt.
With trembling hands, I shook out my leathers and re-dressed, grateful for the blade in the sheath at my hip. It wasn’t long, made for cutting leather in the event of a strap tangle, or to help strip branches to make shelter if I was stranded somewhere. But it was a weapon.
Checking the buckle that kept it at my hip, I nodded to myself, pushing away the niggling voice that said this wasn’t the wisest choice. That my clothing was not armor and I didn’t need it to be strong.
Because I needed something.
Ruin behind me, thrusting so hard his thighs slapped, my hair fisted in his iron grip so my back arched and my head strained back, making it hard to breathe. His knees locked between mine so I couldn’t move.
I was helpless. He loved it.
And I loved him, so I’d do anything—
I shuddered and inhaled sharply, begging God to take these memories away. To tell my mind to stop conjuring them. But it wasn’t only my hands that trembled now. My bones seemed to vibrate, inside my skin. A sick weight sat in the pit of my stomach. I couldn’t think.
I needed to do something. Yet, I turned another circle, scanning the room… for what?
I took one, faltering step towards the door—then halted. I couldn’t go out there. Not dressed like this. Rumors would circulate of a female soldier—whispers too easily connected to a scandalous woman at the castle. No. I had to stay here. And not just because of the clothes.
It was growing late. I’d only been here a few minutes, but since the moment I crawled in the window, music, laughter, and the thumps of cups on tabletops, and boots on the floor, shivered up through the floor.
Men. Drunk men. Men whose eyes would latch on me the moment I appeared and—
My breath stopped. I staggered over to the window and threw it open, letting the cool night air wash over me as my mouth surged with saliva and I swallowed and swallowed and swallowed back the nausea.
Thank God my stomach was empty. I should have been starving. Instead, I was grateful. If I’d had a full stomach, I would have lost the contents of it.
But then, I saw myself, hunched over a window sill, gasping at the air, tears in the corners of my eyes, and body shaking.
All because one fucking man showed up and said my name, and it was like nothing I’d done in the past few months mattered anymore.
One glance from those knowing eyes—the eyes that had seen me naked, seen me in the throes of an orgasm, seen me grasped and taken by other men—
“Oh, God.”
I clapped both hands to my mouth, clamping them there, shaking my head, teeth gritted.
I. Would. Not. Cry.
I wasn’t that girl anymore.
I’d say no.
I’d fight.
I did fight!
You fled. The voice hissed in the back of my mind, an accusing, derisive mingling of my father’s disdain, and Ruin’s contempt.
Ruin, snarling down at me, deep in the wood at the top of the launch hollow.
“Get the fuck out of here and never come back, Bren. Do you hear me?”
“Y-you said…” I swallowed the painful lump in my throat. It went down slowly, clawing at my flesh as it descended. “You s-said you wanted to m-marry me—”
“Are you fucking with me? You can’t honestly believe—”
“Y-you said—”
“And you opened your legs, just like I wanted… You’re a fucking lowborn farm girl and I’m a Furyknight.” His face turned red, the veins on his forehead popping as he grabbed my shoulders and shook me. “Go home and hang yourself in the barn for all I care, just don’t ever come back here!”
I yanked myself back from the window as if pulling from his grasp and had to blink and breathe for a moment to remind myself it was a memory. He wasn’t here. Not now.
But he’s close. And he knows you’re near. God, that voice taunted me.
More footsteps on the floor outside the door. More staring at the wall, ears perked, barely breathing, until they descended to the rumble below.
I had to get out of here.
But I couldn’t. Donavyn would come. He’d promised. And Kgosi knew. Akhane may not have reached him with words, but she’d reached him in their senses. Kgosi knew. Had probably already found Akhane and—
The footsteps approached from the stairs this time. Heavy feet, moving quickly. A strong, confident man’s footsteps. Brisk and sure—and not hesitating at any door along the hallway… until it reached mine.
I turned to stare, heart leaping into my throat.
“Dona—”
The knob creaked when it turned—but caught as the lock stopped its progress.
Fear screamed and I braced, about to run back to the window, when a key slipped into the lock and a moment later it clicked.
Relief. It was Donavyn.
I was three steps around the bed when the door swung open to reveal thick shoulders first.
“Donavyn, thank God.” My voice pinched to a squeak as the door swung wider and the candlelight in the hallway silhouetted a leaner neck, and much shorter hair, the golden waves of which had been tousled by flight.
Bright eyes snapped to meet mine as I froze, and Ruin’s lips curled up in a smile. “There she is.”