Chapter Nineteen
ABBY
KIE AND MASON are efficient in setting up their sleeping gear, the two moving in sync, as if they’ve done this a million times before. Maybe they have. Maybe they’ve made a habit of escaping into the Redstall Forest together.
I stand back and watch them work, my arms crossed tightly over my chest.
I should rest—my body is begging for it—but I see no point. I won’t be able to relax around these men, and I don’t trust them enough to try. Sleeping is about as vulnerable as it gets, and I won’t put myself in that position.
It took almost forty minutes for Mason to approve of a spot—or at least, what I assume was his approval. He stopped walking, grunted, and dropped his bag onto the ground. This isn’t a spot I would’ve chosen for myself, but I keep my mouth shut.
My tongue slides over my top lip as I eye the trees surrounding us and the roots sticking out of the ground in Mason's chosen area. The ground isn’t level, not in the slightest, and I press my back against a tree before sliding down. A rock sticks into my butt, and I reach around and toss it away before crossing my legs and plopping my backpack into my lap. It feels good to be off my feet, and I rifle through my things until I secure a handful of nuts.
I still when my gloved fingers come in contact with a familiar metal handle. My knife. They’re letting me keep my knife? Why?
“Did you look through my bag?” I ask.
“Yes,” is Kie’s curt reply.
Mason quickly chimes in. “And we’ve concluded you have zero survival skills.”
I shrug. I think I was doing pretty fine on my own. My fingers curl around the handle of my knife, but I resist the urge to pull it out. It may have been an oversight, and I’m not going to remind them I have it until I’m ready to use it.
It’s with a heavy heart that I release the handle, and I shove a handful of nuts in my mouth as I search for my water bottle. I very quickly realize it’s not here, though.
I clear my throat. “Did either of you grab my water bottle?”
Kie and Mason pause what they’re doing, their eyes quickly meeting. Kie makes a face and Mason shrugs, their silent communication pretty easy to follow. My assumption here is that Mason was meant to grab it, and he’s shrugging because he conveniently forgot the one item I need most to survive.
Does he know how badly humans need water?
Kie is the first to speak. “We can make a detour to Traul River. We should be pretty close.”
Mason shakes his head, immediately shutting down the suggestion. “No. Shifters swarm the area. It’s too dangerous.” He turns toward me. “How long can you survive without water?”
“Without exercise, maybe three days.”
“Fuck!” Mason drags his fingers through his hair. “Fucking useless humans.”
Rude.
Kie pulls a thin tarp out of his bag and fastens it to the trees at waist level, creating a roof for him to sleep underneath. Despite how small it folds up, it stretches relatively wide, easily making enough room for him and Mason. Are they going to cuddle up underneath it? I can’t quite tell if they’re friends or lovers.
They both share the title of prince , but they’re clearly not brothers. Besides their dark hair and titles, they share no physical similarities. What is a shifter prince doing with the faerie prince, though? Especially considering the animosity between the two species.
Mason rifles through his bag and pulls out a rolled-up mat. It’s glimmering, covered in magic, and he lays it on the ground underneath the makeshift roof Kie set up. All their supplies are greenish brown, blending seamlessly with the woods.
The sun continues to rise, filling the sky with bright light that filters through the gaps in the trees surrounding us. I want to know why they decided to walk through the night and sleep in the morning, but I don’t voice my thoughts. I want to draw as little attention to myself as possible.
Kie and Mason’s tarp blocks the sun, darkening their sleeping area. Lucky them.
I run a hand down my face before tugging off my sweatshirt and dropping it on the ground by my feet.
They haven’t invited me into their little fort, but even if they did, I wouldn’t accept. There are several steps and two large trees between us, and I fully intend to keep it that way. The more space separating us, the better.
Neither Mason nor Kie pay me any mind as I finish my handful of nuts and lie down, facing the sky. I’m sure they’re aware of my every movement, and they’re probably expecting me to take off at the first chance, but I’m not that dumb.
When Samuel created that map, I saw how far the portal was from Farbay. It’ll take several days to reach the portal, giving me time to plan. I’m sure I’ll only get one attempt, and I won’t ruin it by rushing.
These two don’t think much of humans, and they’ll inevitably relax in a day or two. I’ll make my escape then. I have no idea where I’ll go, but it’ll be far from these two.
I just have to ensure the shifter can’t track me, which might be challenging.
Kie lies back on the mat Mason laid out, a low groan slipping from his throat. I’m glad he’s comfortable. Asshole. I shift, acutely aware of a thick tree root underneath me.
Mason stands nearby. He looks angry, his lips pursed and eyebrows furrowed, but I’m beginning to suspect that’s his neutral expression. His green eyes flicker between Kie and me before he rolls his shoulders back and begins to strip.
My pulse ratchets, my anxiety mounting with each item of clothing he removes. Why? I gulp, swallowing back bile. Is he planning to transform into his animal form?
Mason removes his shirt first, the tight, black fabric yanked over his torso and dropped beside Kie’s head. I didn’t get a good look at his form before, and I mentally curse as I eye the thick muscles lining his chest and abdomen.
I can’t see his back, but I’m sure it’s just as muscular as his front.
No wonder they’re letting me keep my knife. I’d never stand a chance in a fight against this man, let alone one against him and Kieran. I doubt I could even hit Mason hard enough to hurt him.
Kie’s still clothed, but I assume his form is just as intimidating. He’s leaner than Mason, but I don’t get the impression that it’s a disadvantage. Mason has the whole brute strength thing going to him, like he spends a lot of time smashing rocks and splitting tree stumps, but Kie looks fast.
Mason’s gloves are the next article of clothing to go, and I stare at his bare hands. He and Kie wear black gloves, which is unusual. They stand out, drawing attention. I bet it’s intentional. They probably want women to know they aren’t open to being touched.
Heaven forbid they form a mate bond with a woman they deem below them. I bet they’re saving their touch for the fancy noble ladies of their court. It’s very pretentious. Very them .
When Mason begins to remove his pants, I turn away.
I listen closely to the sound of rustling clothing, though, wanting to stay alert. From the corner of my eye, Mason’s shadow bends forward as he pushes his pants and underwear down his legs, removing the last of his clothing.
I know what’s coming next, and I resist the urge to squeeze my eyes shut as his form begins to shift. Mason places his hands on his knees, a low groan slipping from his throat as his back contorts and he transforms into a giant wolf-like animal.
I can’t hear anything over the pounding of my own heart. Is he doing this as a threat? To remind me not to run? It’s unnecessary. I know better than to try to escape so soon.
The animal lets out a low, gravely sound, and I shiver. I hate that noise, and I’m beginning to understand why the faeries dislike the shifters. They don’t seem particularly friendly, and they’re fucking terrifying.
Mason stalks the perimeter of the small area he and Kie decided to make camp. My hands shake as he nears me, and sweat drips down my inner arms as he takes it upon himself to circle me. I force myself to continue staring at the sky, praying he can’t sense my fear.
Kie said Mason has a strong predator instinct, and I have no interest in making myself more prey than I already am.
Mason does another lap of me before finally wandering away, returning to Kie. The faerie prince is still on his sleeping pad, his gloved hands folded behind his head and his legs stretched outward and crossed at the ankles. He looks comfortable. It must be nice.
His eyes are shut, but I doubt he’s sleeping. The movement of his chest is too uneven and quick. Is he thinking about me? About how he’s going to gift me to Zaha? About what her brothers will do if she decides she doesn’t want me? About Mason’s decision to murder me in a humane way?
I can’t fathom what it means to be given to a god. Lill’s never spoken about them, and the faeries I’ve spent the past few days eavesdropping on rarely speak of them. When they do, it’s with fervor and mild fear. What scares the faeries scares me.
Mason makes a low, grumbling noise, and Kie sits up just as Mason turns and vanishes into the forest. Where’s he going?
“There are deer nearby,” Kie says, answering my unspoken question. “Mason’s going to hunt one.”
My stomach rumbles at the mere thought of food. I’ve been dealing with hunger pains for a while, but they’ve ramped up today. It’s hard to ignore them, but I’d say I’ve been doing a pretty good job of it.
Kie clears a spot between us, removing leaves and small debris before collecting firewood. Since he has nothing to chop wood with, he sticks to breaking thin branches off trees and collecting fallen twigs.
I remain where I am, watching him work. I have no interest in helping, and thankfully, he doesn’t ask.
Still, he works with ease, building a smell pile of wood before lighting a fire with an object I’ve never seen before. He holds a slim, black disc over the pile, and after a couple of seconds, sparks begin to drop from the bottom of the disk.
It doesn’t take long for the sparks to catch and a fire to emerge, but it’s small. I suppose they don’t want to risk the shifters seeing it, despite the sun being out.
We fall into an uncomfortable silence as we wait for Mason to return with the deer he’s convinced he will hunt down. Will they share? There will be more meat than Kie and Mason can realistically eat, but I’m trying not to get my hopes up. I could see them taking their fill and refusing me the leftovers.
My stomach rumbles, the noise audible even over the low sound of the crackling fire.
I wince. The last thing I want is Mason or Kie sensing how desperate I am for food. I don’t want them using it against me.
An excruciatingly long time passes before somebody approaches on our right, and I turn just as Mason emerges from the trees with a carcass held between his teeth. The animal looks identical to an Earth deer, but it’s a miniature version.
It’s still large enough to feed all three of us, though.
Mason drags the carcass toward the fire before stepping back and shaking out his fur. His muzzle is covered in blood, and I shiver before scanning the deer.
Its throat is ripped open, clearly done by Mason. I hope the poor animal didn’t suffer, and I stare into its wide, unblinking eyes as Kie gets to work cutting it up, slicing off large chunks of meat and throwing them over the flames.
Mason remains nearby, looking almost nervous as his eyes dart around the woods surrounding us. The second Kie is finished, Mason begins dragging the carcass away.
I sink my teeth into my bottom lip. What’s he doing? There’s still so much good meat on that.
My chest aches, and I feel the overwhelming urge to cry as Mason leaves with the deer. Watching him take my food away, take away the one thing that’s brought me any semblance of joy since I had the misfortune of meeting him, is beyond devastating.
It feels like somebody’s driving a hot blade into my throat.
“The shifters will be able to smell it,” Kie explains. “Mason’s going to drag the carcass around, leading any shifters who stumble into the area away from us.”
My legs ache with the urge to get up and run after Mason, maybe even fight him for the animal, but I doubt that’ll get me far. He’d probably just laugh and knock me over—or something equally rude.
Mason finally returns just as Kie pulls the cooked meat off the fire, and he shifts back into his human-like form before quickly redressing. I stare at the hot food, twiddling my thumbs. I’m so hungry, and I can barely contain my shock as Mason grabs one of the largest pieces, grunts, and drops it into my lap. I suppose this means it’s for me.
I bite back a smile as I bring it to my mouth. The flavorless, overcooked meat is by far the best thing I’ve ever eaten, and I devour the entire thing in record time. There’s so much, I find myself forcing the last bites down, mildly aware I’m going to be sick if I eat too much more.
I don’t care. I’m truly full for the first time in days, and it feels amazing.
Kie and Mason sit on the opposite side of the fire, quietly whispering as they eat. I can’t hear what they’re saying, which I’m sure is intentional. I’m probably the topic of discussion. That realization makes me nervous, but there’s nothing I can do about it.
I already have enough to stress over, mainly my impending slavery to Zaha. What will she be like? Will I ever see my family and home again? I fear I already know the answer to that, and I swallow down the bile threatening to rise up my throat.
I’ve been avoiding acknowledging the inevitable, choosing to live in blissful ignorance and the blind hope that things will improve for me, but it’s time to consider the possibility that it won’t. Coming to this realm was a risk, one that didn’t pay off.
I should’ve listened to Lill. I wasn’t prepared for this world, and I won’t survive.
I shove my last bite of meat into my mouth. I’m too full, my stomach bulging, but I can’t stop eating. I want to eat until I explode.
“Do you two not have any water?” I ask. It’s hard to believe.
“No.” It’s Kie who answers. “Our bodies don’t need water as yours does, and we intended to drink at the river in the troll lands.”
I force myself into an upright position. My stomach protests the movement, and I’m sure I’m far from graceful as I struggle to sit up.
Mason watches with poorly concealed humor, his lips twitching and his eyebrows raised. He probably thinks it’s funny to watch me struggle, and I bet the sick fuck even takes pleasure in it. He seems like the type of person who finds enjoyment in misery.
It’s no wonder the faeries hate him.
“What will Zaha do to me?” I ask, my voice cracking. I wince.
My question is met with silence, and I clench my hands into tight fists as I stare down Kie. He avoids eye contact, busying himself with putting out the fire and returning to his sleeping pad. It infuriates me. The least he can do is detail the fate he’s unilaterally signing me up for.
Mason returns to his animal form and resumes stalking around camp.
“Well?” I push.
Kie rolls over, giving me his back. I shift my focus to Mason. I assume he can’t speak in his animal form, but he can hear. I can tell by the slight twitching of his pointed ears whenever I speak.
My gaze lingers on his bright-green eyes before shifting to his mouth. His long, sharp teeth aren’t currently visible, but I’ll never forget how it felt to have them snarling and snapping only inches from my face.
They were huge, the largest probably the length of my forearm. He could kill me with one purposeful bite, and there’s nothing I could do to stop it.
Mason stares at me, his eyes unblinking as he sits on his haunches beside Kie.
I lick my lips. “I deserve to know.”
Mason stated that killing me would be a better option, and even he seemed concerned with the possibility of one of Zaha’s brothers stepping in to take me. Kie seemed convinced they wouldn’t want a human with a blood disease, which is far from encouraging. Why would they care about my blood?
I don’t have a blood disease. What will happen if they discover that?
There’s a very good chance I won’t be able to escape from Kie and Mason, and I deserve to know what to expect once they drag me into the gods’ realm.
My mind is running rampant with thoughts of rape, torture, and potentially even blood harvesting, but those are human assumptions. I’m not dealing with humans, and what they have in mind might be something I’ve never heard of and can’t even conceptualize.
Mason lies on his belly and rests his paws under his chin, still staring at me.
I want to throw a rock at his oversized, hairy head.
Better yet, I want to bash a rock against it until his skull is mush. I’ve never been the type of woman to cower away from killing spiders, cockroaches, and tiny vermin, and I doubt I’ll feel any different with this shifter.
If they made rat traps large enough for him, I’d stand back and happily watch as the metal snap breaks his spine and traps him in place. He can suffocate, bleed out, or starve to death for all I care. He’s shown me no kindness, and I won’t offer any in return.
Seconds pass, and I quickly realize I’m not getting an answer. I’m not surprised. I huff, returning to my spot and lying down. Sunlight shines in my face, practically blinding me. I don’t know how these two expect me to sleep under these conditions, and I grab one of the arms of my sweatshirt and place it over my eyes. It barely works, and I rely on my hearing to keep tabs on what’s happening around me.
Eventually, I doze off, but never into a deep rest. Never to the point of being unaware of my surroundings. It’s a sad sleep that leaves me feeling more exhausted than refreshed, but I know it’s the best I’m going to get.
Kie falls asleep quickly—I know because I glance at him every few minutes to check. Mason doesn’t sleep, and every time I sneak a look at him, he’s already staring at me. There’s no mistaking that I’m the target of his vibrant-green eyes.
My sweatshirt sleeve is decent at blocking out the sun, but I still feel the rays hitting the exposed skin of my arms and legs. It’s not overly hot, but it will leave me sunburnt.
Hours pass before the pressure on my bladder grows too intense to ignore, and I shove my sweatshirt off my face before turning toward Mason.
As expected, he’s already watching me, and his back and shoulder muscles shift as I sit up. I bet he’s preparing for a chase. He’s probably spent this entire day fantasizing about burying his teeth deep into my flesh and ripping me into shreds.
I know he wants to. He hasn’t kept that desire hidden.
“I need to use the bathroom,” I say.
My throat is still raw from his earlier choking, and I can hear it in my voice. It’s rough, like I’ve been smoking cigarettes regularly for the past thirty years.
Mason doesn’t move, his hulking animal form painfully still.
I’m unsure what to make of it, and I swallow past the lump in my throat as I push myself up to my feet. My knees shake as they’re made to hold up my weight, and I bend them with a slight wince.
The ground crunches underneath my feet, and I refuse to turn my back to Mason as I inch away. I’m afraid he’ll chase me if I move too quickly, and I stop breathing as he rises from his seated position and follows me.
I figured this would happen, but it doesn’t alleviate my fear. He has no intention of letting me out of his sight.
The only benefit to not drinking water is how infrequent my bodily functions are. I’m a shy shitter, too, but hopefully that won’t be an issue. My asshole won’t even consider opening when it knows it’s being watched.
I walk until Kie is out of sight, but I stay close enough that he’ll hopefully hear if Mason decides this is his opportunity to kill me. Kie seems intent on keeping me alive, so sticking by him is probably my best bet.
My hands are sweaty, and I press my quivering lips together as I make eye contact with Mason. He may be in his animal form, but I can tell his mind is still that of his human form—or whatever they call it. I don’t want him watching me.
“Can you turn around?” I ask.
Mason sits on his butt, still facing me.
I hate him, and I look around before stepping behind a scarce bush. It’s not ideal, but it’s better than nothing. My fingers shake as I crouch and pull down my leggings, careful not to expose too much of myself.
Mason watches me the entire time, and I do the same to him. Thankfully, though, his eyes never travel downward. He probably thinks he’s chivalrous by not staring between my legs, but I hardly see it that way.
I force out my pee as quickly as possible before using a nearby leaf to wipe and pulling back up my leggings. The bandages on my knees tug with the movement, and I take a second to adjust them before stepping out from behind the bush.
I want to say something snarky, but I bite my tongue. Insulting Mason might very well be a death sentence.
He leads us back to Kie, and I obediently follow. The sun is well past its peak, leaving only a few hours of daylight left. I’ll take this time to observe and, hopefully, discover some of my kidnappers’ weaknesses.
I doubt it will be physical, but there has to be something they’re sensitive to. They’re quiet, but if I can get them talking, maybe I can learn something useful.