Chapter Eight
The journey back to Ahanu was tense. There were so many things between the King and me now, all gathered during our outing.
The captives, the new threat, my song, and, of course, the embrace we'd shared.
I was perched on the edge of my bench across from His Majesty again, hands in my lap and wings lifted awkwardly.
On the floor beside the King's foot was a box of evidence he had collected. I stared at it, wondering if he'd found more ribbons.
“Yes,” the King's velvet voice brushed against my skin.
I looked up at him. “Excuse me, Your Majesty?”
“I saw you looking at the box. You think we found more silk. We did. I decided to keep some as proof. I burned the rest.”
“I see,” I whispered.
“You don't have to fear it.”
“I don't.”
“Then why did you just move down the bench away from the box?”
I looked around. Indeed, I was closer to the window. “I don't know.”
“You will never be bound like that again.”
“No, I won't.” I looked out the window.
“Eliel!” he snapped.
I flinched and spun my head to look at him.
“You will never be bound like that again!”
My gaze shivered over his face. King Raventar was breathtaking when he smiled, but like this—full of fury, justice, and passion—he was someone so far above me that no matter how hard and high I flew, I would never reach him. All I could do was hope he would come to me.
Unable to form a reply, I nodded.
Softening his tone, the King asked, “Would you like to see what we found?”
“All right.” I lowered my gaze to the box, tensing as if it were full of snakes. No, that's not accurate. Snakes didn't scare me half as much as what was in that box.
King Raventar withdrew a smaller box and set it aside. Then he pushed the larger box over to me. “There are some papers and . . . tools.”
I leaned over and carefully removed a leather portfolio.
I didn't want to see the tools. If they were tools.
Undoing the leather tie, I caught a smell that was familiar, but I couldn't place it.
Frowning, I flipped open the flap and pulled out several sheets of paper.
Holding the papers atop the portfolio on my lap, I skimmed through them, my stomach twisting at the lists of “guests” including age, sex, and race.
I shook my head. “This isn't Bara's handwriting, nor did I see his symbol on any of those crates. This isn't his style.” I grimaced. “Keeping captives to sell? No.”
“You think they're being sold?”
I looked up at the King. “I'm assuming so. Why else do this?”
He shrugged. “I don't know. This feels odd to me.”
I flipped through the pages. Something caught my eye.
“Wait. I know this mark.” I tapped the page over a red symbol of a feather in a circle.
“This is the mark of an Okon tribe. The Crimson Feathers.” I handed the page to the King.
“Now, I know why I recognize this smell.” I lifted the leather binder and sniffed.
“Yes, it's him. Chief Nahel of the Crimson Feathers.
He came to Bara's home for dinner several times.”
“An Okon chief?” The Dragon King leaned back, his forehead creasing. “Okons don't deal in slaves.”
“Most don't.” I swallowed past the dryness in my throat, the image of the muscular Okon chief coming to mind to taunt me. My hands trembled so badly that the papers began to rustle. I shoved them into the folder and tossed it into the box.
“Eliel?” The King narrowed his eyes. “How well do you know this man?”
“Not well.”
“And yet your hands shake when you speak of him.”
I clenched my hands into fists. “He tried to buy me from Bara.”
The King's left eye twitched. “Did he?” He set the paper on the portfolio. “Thank you, Eliel.”
“Why are you thanking me?”
“Since we've met, I've been so frustrated.
My chest aches with hatred for Bara. I burn with it!
I want so badly to kill him, but you deserved the kill more.
I'm glad you took his life. I'm very glad that he's dead. Still, this anger has festered.” He set his gaze on me and grinned, but it was a vicious smile. “Now it has an outlet.”
“Nahel never touched me,” I whispered.
“No, but he wanted to. He didn't just lust after you. He tried to own you. And for that, he will die.”
I shivered, my jaw falling open. But, strangely enough, my fear vanished.
Under that harsh, avenging grin, I flourished.
Bloomed. I felt cherished. Worthy of being avenged.
It was probably wrong of me to feel that way.
Maybe I'd been more twisted by Bara than I knew.
But the King's vow pleased me. He pleased me greatly.
“May I help you catch him, Your Majesty?”
King Raventar grinned wider. “I'm counting on it.”