Chapter 20 #2
He gestured for them to follow, then turned into the woods with his comrade at his side.
Raphael glanced once more between Tobias and their product before taking leave, and soon all five of them were treading through the woods toward an unknown future.
Leila stumbled across the uneven ground, Her gaze flitting between Her bound ankles, their darkened trail, and the smugglers ahead.
Once their guides were far from view, She hobbled to Enzo’s side.
“Is this how you arrived in Thessen?” She whispered. “Posing as a slave?”
He eyed the two men sidelong, then grunted. “Smuggler.”
“Why? I mean, I understand the need now given our circumstances, but no one is searching for you.”
“Control your product,” the bald man barked from the front of the line. “Or does your buyer like whores who run at the mouth?”
His comrade laughed. “She’ll probably get her tongue ripped out at this rate.”
“Nonsense, the tongue is vital.” The first man licked his lips and grinned. “Can’t properly suck a cock without it.”
“Our product is none of your concern,” Tobias snarled.
The smuggler cast a skeptical glance Tobias’s way. “You seem awfully miffed over a couple of slaves.”
Tobias kept one hand on the rope lead, the other firmly wrapped around the hilt of his sword. “Just tired of hearing you talk,” he grumbled.
The trees parted and the cove loomed straight ahead, vast and imposing.
Leila sucked in a breath. There was something both beautiful and frightening about the boundless water, how it swallowed the blackness of the night and the glow of the moon.
A ship was anchored alongside the port, and smugglers hoisted crates onto the ship’s deck while others forced horses and other livestock across the dock and up the gangplank.
“Go on.”
Leila flinched. A man stinking of liquor prodded Her with a club, nudging Her toward the dock. “You’re wasting time,” he said.
Leila swallowed hard, then followed Hylas, Enzo, and the others onto the wooden slabs and up the rickety plank.
She wasn’t familiar with ships, had never seen one in person, and leaving the comfort of solid ground made Her knees wobble.
Cold, salty air blasted Her face as She reached the deck, clawing past Her layers of shawls and chilling Her to the bone.
Too many men wove through the space, pulling ropes, hoisting barrels, and shouting orders.
She’d been transported to another world entirely, though one detail remained constant—treachery reigned supreme.
A club jabbed at Her back, sending Her staggering into Enzo’s muscled frame. “Move along,” a smuggler spat, goading Leila, Enzo, and Hylas toward an opened stairwell. “Get going.”
Leila flashed him a glare, then instinctively looked to Tobias.
He stood beside Raphael amid the other smugglers, his expression unreadable, but the hodgepodge of reds, greens, and greys pluming from his flesh revealed his worries.
Steeling Herself, She followed Enzo and Hylas down the steps, leaving Tobias on deck with the rest of the smugglers.
The hold was humid and rank with piss and shit.
Leila followed Her allies past rows of wooden crates to a large cell—a cage fit for animals with metal bars extending from the floor to the ceiling and a padlocked gate rusted with age.
Only five other slaves occupied the space, a couple of them sitting with their knees tucked into their chests while the others stood shoulder-to-shoulder in the far corner.
Leila and Her comrades shuffled toward the back, tripping over their feet as they settled against the wall.
Leila flinched as the door clanked shut. A stout man with a stained tunic locked the cage in three places, then filed up the steps and slammed the hold’s grate behind him. Silence swept the space, until soft whispers and murmurings crept from wall to wall, putting Leila the slightest bit at ease.
Just then, Enzo bit at the rope wrapping his wrists and shook his head like a dog.
“For God’s sake, what are you . . . ?” Leila glanced madly across the hold. Two smugglers stood by the stairwell, passing a waterskin between them as they kept watch. “Someone will see.”
Enzo spat the shredded rope at his feet, then tackled his ankles. “If they see, I kill them.”
“You can’t just . . .” She watched as Enzo made quick work of Her bindings. “You can’t just kill them. We’re in hiding.”
“I kill who I like.”
The rope fell to the floor in a pile, and Enzo grabbed Hylas’s hands and tugged him forward, sending the gangly senator staggering into his chest.
“Oh, uh . . .” Hylas shook out his free wrists, eyes on Enzo as he untied his ankles. “Th-thank you.”
Enzo kicked the rope aside, then leaned casually against the cell wall, heedless of the nearby slaves’ prying eyes.
Leila, on the other hand, was far from relaxed.
She stood on Her toes, peering over the line of crates toward the front of the hold.
The two smugglers spoke to one another in grunts and growls, far more occupied by their waterskin than the product they were supposed to guard, and for that She was grateful.
She leaned in toward Enzo, whispering out of the corner of Her mouth, “So, what now?”
He shrugged one shoulder. “We wait here.”
“For how long?”
“Two days. Maybe three.”
Leila bristled. Two or three days in a dank cell, the air ripe with filth, was a miserable prospect to consider, let alone endure. “What will we eat?”
Enzo cocked his head at a large barrel in the corner of the cell with a ladle at its side, and Leila frowned. “That’s water.” She squinted. “I think. I hope.”
“We are slaves,” Enzo said.
“And slaves don’t eat?” Her eyes shot wide. “Oh My God. Do slaves not eat?”
“It is just two days.”
“Or three.”
“We will be fine,” he maintained, his voice carrying a hint of calm.
Leila swallowed an irritated growl, leaning against the wall in a huff.
The atmosphere had turned especially hot and sticky, and She wasn’t sure if it was due to Her raging nerves or their humid conditions.
The nearby slaves fidgeted in place, their faces slick with sweat and clothes clinging to their skin.
Two whispered in a language She’d never heard while others spoke Her native tongue, and one said nothing at all, resigned to his thoughts. Her heart sagged.
“We can’t save them?” She said. “Take them with us?”
Enzo was quiet for a long while before responding. “If You want to save Your realm, and my realm, and other realms . . . no.”
Leila clamped down on Her lip, unsure whether to cry, or scream, or heave Her stomach’s contents onto the floor. Instead, She dug Her fingernails into the meat of Her palms, channeling Her fury into the stinging pain as Her feeling of powerlessness grew even more profound.
Focus. It wasn’t the time for weakness. She was a queen, after all. She pulled Herself back to the task ahead and the allies at Her side. Hylas stood rigid, glassy eyes pointed at nothing in particular. Leila pressed a hand to his shoulder. “Are you all right?”
“What?” He jumped as if stirred awake. “Yes. Yes, I’m fine.”
He cast Her a feeble smile that failed to lift Her spirits.
Guilt pestered Her—for the people She couldn’t free, for the turmoil Her comrades were forced to endure.
She could hope for strength and composure all She liked, but this leg of their journey was rotten to the core.
Leila sighed. Her thoughts were a muddled mess, but before She could spiral, She caught sight of Hylas out of the corner of Her eye.
Hylas’s chestnut gaze was large, unblinking, and fixed on Enzo—his sinewy strength, the hard planes of his chest, the squareness of his jaw. She’d never seen the senator so frozen, even entranced, and She questioned if the sweat on his brow had anything to do with the humidity at all.
Self-reproach still nipped at Her, threatening to overtake Her mind. No. She couldn’t lose Her resolve. And if that meant a slight shift in focus to distract Her thoughts, She’d take it.
“I’ve just realized, I haven’t properly introduced you two.
How foolish of Me.” She tugged Enzo from the wall and slapped him on the back.
“Hylas, this is Enzo. He was a competitor in My tournament—a very strong and brave competitor, as a matter of fact. He was one of the Beasts, did you know that?”
Horror swept Hylas’s face. He eclipsed Enzo in height, but his disposition was timid and unsure, as if he were hardly the beautiful specimen standing right in front of Leila.
She nearly second-guessed Her decision, until pink eddies bloomed from Hylas’s flesh like peacock feathers flourished for courtship.
“Y-yes, I am aware,” he choked out.
“He’s also a personal guard to the Kovahrian queen.
” Leila took hold of Enzo’s arm, hoping Her small hand made his powerful biceps appear all the more glorious.
“I’m sure you know Kovahr has the fiercest warriors of all the ally realms, and to be chosen among them to aid and protect a royal?
” Enzo flashed Her a look of confusion, which She gladly ignored. “Very impressive, wouldn’t you agree?”
Hylas swallowed. “Impressive indeed.”
Fuchsia clouds billowed through the air, potent enough to taste. Perfect. She nestled up beside Hylas and wrapped a firm arm around him.
“And Enzo, this is Hylas, the kindest member of My palace staff. A senator, no less!” She gave his shoulders a squeeze, sending him tottering.
“He’s talented too, with the voice of a songbird, and you absolutely must hear him play the double flutes.
And have you seen these eyes? So dark and hypnotizing, as if they carry a lifetime of wisdom in a single gaze. Aren’t they positively enchanting?”
Enzo stood hardened and expressionless, but his colors betrayed him, wafting from his flesh like pink steam. “They very nice.”
Leila spun toward Hylas. “Did you hear that? He likes your eyes. Isn’t his accent charming?” Pleased with Herself, She patted both of them on the cheek. “Well then, I must be going.”
“Where?” Hylas said. “We’re in a—”
“Cell, yes, I know, but there’s much to be done. And the two of you must get acquainted. You’ll be spending quite a bit of time together in the coming days, and I’m sure you have plenty to discuss. You have so much in common, after all.”
Hylas’s eyes grew wide. “But—”
“Talk amongst yourselves. That’s an order.”
She abandoned them, a proud smile on Her lips as She marched off through the limited space.
Romance was a worthy distraction, and She’d certainly need one during their hellish voyage.
She reached the water barrel at the edge of the cell.
It smelled questionable, and the film atop its surface gave Her considerable pause.
Then wisps of pink carrying the scent of caramelized sugar wafted through the air around Her, and triumph beamed in Her chest once more.
“The last run. You’re sure?”
Leila’s spine straightened. The two smugglers stood paces away, passing their waterskin as they spoke in low tones. She turned Her back to them, ladling Herself some water and pretending to sip it while listening to their conversation.
“I’m not risking it. You’d be smart to stay off deck too.” One of the men took a gulp from the skin—it was filled with liquor most likely, as he coughed over its harsh bite. “The waters aren’t safe for us any longer.”
“Why the fuck is Trogolia lumped in with this mess?” the second man said. “That bloody bitch is Thessen’s burden.”
The hairs on Leila’s arms stood straight. She fought to feign apathy, but She was frozen in place, captivated by every word that left their lips.
“It’s the same ole diplomatic fuckery,” the first smuggler scoffed.
“The king plays nice, supports the sovereign, and trade agreements continue as normal.” He chugged another mouthful, then licked his lips loudly.
“I’m telling you, if you want to do business, do it fast, because that bastard Brontes isn’t cocking around. ”
Leila shuddered at Her father’s name. Trogolia was to be their escape, but the next words the smuggler spoke sent Her nails digging into the wooden ladle.
“By the end of this week, Trogolia will be crawling with Thessian soldiers.”