Chapter Twenty-Two
ABBY
KIE PICKS UP the pace.
It’s getting dark, and I’m losing sight of the ground beneath me. I’d pull out my flashlight if I didn’t already know the princes would throw a fit. They’d rather have me walk blind and break a leg.
My knees ache with every step, and the blisters blooming on my ankles don’t feel great, but I refrain from complaining. I’ll tend to myself the next time we stop to rest, which I really hope will be at the river.
My throat is so dry, it aches, and my vision is continually blurring. I’m fighting unconsciousness with every step, and I have been for hours.
Mason slows, no longer walking beside Kie. He waits for me to pass before taking his spot in the back, once more monitoring me. I figured it was only a matter of time before the two stopped whispering to one another and Mason resumed his watch guard position.
“We’re almost there,” Kie promises.
I wish I had my water bottle with me, and I resist the urge to spin around and glare at Mason as I remember why I don’t. It’s his fault it was left behind. Had he not knocked me out, I’d have made sure it was in my backpack.
I don’t respond to Kie’s announcement, nor does Mason. He probably already knows, though. I bet that’s what they were whispering about up there. Fucking gossips.
We walk for a while before the sounds of rushing water hit me. It sounds fast and rough, but I don’t care. I’m going on almost twenty-four hours without water, and I’m sure my pee is a grotesque shade of radioactive yellow right about now.
Kie continues forward, his dark form weaving smoothly between trees. Mason is suspiciously close behind me, but he’s not nudging my back the way he was earlier. I suspect he’s preparing himself to catch me when I inevitably trip over a rock or root, which angers me more than I’d care to admit.
The moonlight offers a bit of light, but not nearly enough.
Kie comes to an abrupt halt, and I nearly run into his back.
The river is loud, almost loud enough to dull the sounds of my racing thoughts, but not quite. I catch sight of the water ahead, the moonlight reflecting off the surface, and it doesn’t look good.
The water is indeed fast, and it’s swirling in a way that suggests it’s deep.
I’m just desperate enough not to care, though, and I push past Kie in my hurry to the riverbank. I’m careful not to lose my footing, and I evaluate the rush of the water as I near. It might not be the worst idea to jump in and let the current pull me downstream.
I’d consider it if it were daytime and I had a better idea of what I was dealing with.
I’m a decent swimmer, but I don’t have a death wish.
I set my backpack on the ground before carefully maneuvering to my knees. The bandages crinkle and my injuries scream as I put weight on them, but I don’t trust myself to stand and lean over the water.
One wrong move, and I’m submerged.
“Is it safe to drink?” I ask, turning back to Kie and Mason.
Mason sits on a large rock, and Kie stands on his left. They’re both watching me, which is highly unnerving.
“Yes,” Kie says.
That’s all I need to hear, and I lick my lips before cupping my hands below the surface. The water’s frigid, and I greedily scoop handful after handful into my mouth. This is arguably the most refreshing thing I’ve ever experienced, and the icy temperature soothes my achy throat from the inside.
I’m sure I look like a feral animal as I frantically drink from the river, and probably not a graceful one, but I don’t care. I need this. Plus, I’m tired of Mason sniffing and commenting on my pee. It’s disgusting, and I don’t know why he even bothers. He’s the one who wants me to die.
“Who’s bathing her?” Mason asks.
I freeze, every muscle growing stiff as I pull my hands from the water. I can practically feel the weight of their stares on my back, and I swallow past the lump in my throat as I carefully stand and spin around.
Who’s bathing whom? I know they aren’t speaking about me. I must’ve heard wrong.
Mason’s still sitting on his rock, holding eye contact as he leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees. Kie hasn’t moved, but he’s now glaring at the side of Mason’s head. I bet he didn’t want me to hear that.
A long silence stretches before Kie turns toward me, his expression unreadable.
“I will,” he says.
No. No, he won’t.
I glance between the two, knowing I need to decide.
If I run, Mason will shift into his animal form and chase me down. I’m not confident I’ll come out of that alive, but I won’t sit here and let them bathe me. I know what happens after that.
Both Mason and Kie stiffen, their movements so subtle, I wouldn’t notice if it weren’t for how intently I’m paying attention. Kie seems focused, but Mason looks excited. I bet he wants me to run. He’s looking for any reason to kill me.
I should scream. I could attract the shifters and trolls, give away our location, and we’d all die. It’s starting to feel like that’s the best outcome, so I might as well bring Kie and Mason down with me.
I don’t know anything about faerie politics, but I’m sure the people will be better off without the princes.
I shift my weight from foot to foot, still debating my next move.
“Abby…” Kie coos.
He speaks to me like you would a frightened animal, which isn’t helping his cause.
I shake my head, not trusting my voice. I am not being bathed.
Mason rolls his shoulders, probably preparing to lunge or transform into his animal form. The movement triggers my fight or flight, and before I have time to process what I’m doing, I’m spinning on my heel and taking off.
I don’t even make it a complete step before being grabbed from behind, an arm wrapping around my waist and halting my escape. Only the very beginnings of a scream bubble up and out of my throat when a gloved hand clasps over my mouth to keep me silent, and I kick out my feet and attempt to bite as I’m pulled back against a hard chest.
Whoever grabbed me hardly seems to struggle with my fight, but that doesn’t stop me.
Blood rushes through my ears, and my knees burn as my fighting rips open my still-fresh wounds. The pain is intense, like a hot poker being shoved into open flesh, but adrenaline has the pain falling to the back of my mind.
I grab and rip at the hand covering my mouth, attempting to pry it away, but it doesn’t work.
“Lehmego!” My words come out a jumbled, muffled mess.
There’s movement on my right, and I shrink up as Mason enters my line of sight. He runs a hand through his hair, pushing the wavy, dark strands out of his face, before stepping closer. For once, he doesn’t look cocky, and he refuses to make eye contact with me as he grabs the bottom of my sweatshirt and T-shirt and pulls up.
The fabric gets caught on Kie’s arm, but the two effortlessly work together to rid me of the clothing. I try to scream during the brief second Kieran removes his hand from my mouth, but he’s too quick. His gloved palm is slapped back over my face in a heartbeat.
Tears stream down my cheeks, making it hard to see, but every attempt I make to blink them away is unsuccessful. I’m crying too much, and I sob into Kie’s hand as Mason reaches for my bottoms.
He left my sports bra in place, but it brings no comfort.
My leggings are yanked down next, my underwear getting caught and pulled in the process. I clench my thighs together, trying to stop their descent, and Mason lets out a muffled curse before grabbing the sides of my underwear and ripping them back up.
“We’re not going to hurt you,” he grits out. “Stop crying.”
I respond by trying to kick him in the balls. I’m unsuccessful, considering my leggings are trapped around my ankles, making it impossible to spread my legs far enough to land the kick.
Mason grabs my knee, his gloved fingers curling around the bandage before he roughly shoves my foot to the ground. He kneels a second later and rips off my shoes and socks, and the moment they’re removed, Kie’s dragging me toward the river.
I attempt to dig my heels against the ground and slow him, but I’m largely ineffective.
Kie continues holding me captive against his chest as he walks us into the river. His grip is tight, giving me no opportunity to break free, even as the frigid water brushes against my waist. My feet slip against the smooth rocks, but Kie doesn’t seem to have the same issue as he pulls us farther in, continuing until it’s up to my shoulders.
“The wash,” Kie says.
He sounds calm, in control, and I fucking hate it.
Mason remains on the shore, all our bags piled together by his feet. He must’ve gathered them while Kie was dragging me into the water, and he reaches into one and pulls out a small disposable bar of soap. It’s nearly identical to what was in the park bathroom back in Farbay, but I don’t get a good look before he tosses it to Kie.
The arm wrapped around my waist is removed, but the one covering my mouth remains. The rushing water and slippery rocks keep me trapped against Kie, though. If I move, I’ll trip and fall, and the current is strong.
I’ll die.
Kie catches the ball Mason throws in his direction. I flinch, water flying into my face as I unsuccessfully shove him away.
My teeth chatter as the water’s cold temperature sets in, my limbs growing stiff as my joints lock up. Kie’s still fully dressed, and his clothing clings to my bare skin as the strong current repeatedly pushes me against him.
It’s a good thing I didn’t try to jump in and swim away. There’s no way I’d be able to stay afloat in this. I’d probably hit my head on a rock and drown before I managed to pull myself out.
I continue screaming into Kie’s palm, but it’s not as loud as I’d like. Between yesterday’s choking and today’s dehydration, my voice is hoarse and quiet.
Kie grunts. “This will be quicker if you stop fighting.”
Fuck him.
The taste of his leather gloves fills my mouth. It mingles with the copper of blood from where I must’ve accidentally bit my tongue.
“Mace…” Kie says.
Mason’s been lingering on the riverbank, but he doesn’t hesitate to storm in the moment he’s called. He’s still fully dressed, just like Kie, and he makes his way toward us with quick, angry movements.
I try to twist away, but the attempt is useless.
Mason is on us in a heartbeat. He takes the soap from Kie before grabbing my arm and bringing it above the water. I cry into Kie’s hand as Mason forcibly removes a small bandage on my elbow and begins scrubbing the already sore skin raw. The soap feels like a rag, but it suds up like soap. He moves to my legs next, reaching underneath the water to grab my ankle and rip it into the air.
I’m not nearly as flexible as he seems to think, and I almost immediately begin to topple over. Kie smoothly absorbs my fall, keeping us both upright despite my thrashing. I’m too panicked to plan or plot a coordinated escape, which I’m sure I’ll regret later.
Mason rips the bandages off my knees and scrubs the raw skin. It’s too dark to tell if I’m bleeding, but it sure as fuck feels like it.
“We’re almost done,” Kie whispers, his warm breath hitting my ear.
I hate it, and I pull my face away from his as Mason drops my leg and grabs my other one. For a brief moment, neither of my feet are touching the ground and Kie is the only thing holding me upright.
“You’re hurting her,” Kie snaps as Mason begins scrubbing my other knee.
Mason looks up, finally meeting my gaze. It holds nothing—no emotion, no remorse, no regret. This is easy for him, and I don’t want to think about what comes next.
“She’ll survive,” he says.
He scrubs my skin, and once he’s finished, he tosses the remainder of the soap bar into the water, letting the current take it away.
Kie takes that as his cue to pull me to shore.
My pleading begins again, but it’s impossible to hear what I’m saying through Kie’s gloved palm. I don’t want this.