Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
T he first day after we left Tisin, equipped with the healer’s potion for stamina and health, proceeded much as the one before had.
Kason looked exactly as he had the last dozen or so times I had caught a glimpse of him in the past two years—hale, hearty, and bursting with vitality.
He was the real criminal between the two of us, looking so unaffected. So normal .
At least until mid-afternoon.
The sun was well past its zenith and diving for the horizon when Kason suddenly stopped and swayed.
I darted forward in time to catch Kason’s elbow and guide him gently to the ground.
He was breathing heavily, as he hadn’t done all day, and his cheeks sported two bright rosettes beneath the sweat-dampened skin.
“I think the—” Kason sucked in a breath. “I think the potion wore off.”
“I would never have guessed,” I grumbled. I held out my hands. “Take off my bindings, and I’ll set up camp.”
Kason was shaking his head before I even finished talking. “No.”
“Are your brains addled?” I demanded. “How am I supposed to do anything?—”
“You’ll run.” Kason gave me a tired smile. “I know you, remember? The only thing keeping you at my side is the fact that you’ll have to find someone to break the bindings, and until then, you’re vulnerable.”
I bristled. “And you think I’d just leave you here? Defenseless yourself?”
“I know you would.” Kason leaned back, closing his eyes.
“Fuck you, Kason Estosia.”
“I’m a lord, you know.”
“Fuck you sideways ,” I spat. Then, when that didn’t get a reaction, not even a smile, “You can’t sleep there. Kason? We need to set up camp and— Kason!” Nothing. “Godsdamn it.”
Gathering firewood with bound hands was not an easy task.
Lighting the fire even less so, since the damned tether kept getting in the way as I tried to use the flint I found in Kason’s pack.
I was tempted to acquire the coin purse I discovered there, but I reasoned that if I wanted Kason to release the bindings the next night, having a missing purse wouldn’t help convince him.
The night was long—and cold. The pitiful fire I had finally sparked died a slow, lingering death as the kindling refused to catch with any consistency.
Overhead, the Sister Moons glimmered ironically, in their waxing phase.
I should be feeling the gentleness of their touch, but that wasn’t happening, not with being bound as I was.
I’d never realized just how much I relied on my magic simply to survive. How often I must have subconsciously fed campfires in the past with tendrils of energy to keep them burning hot and strong. The night seemed much darker without the fire, and much more dangerous without my magic.
And yet, Kason slept on.
“I should run,” I muttered, half to my captor and half to myself.
The night and the moons listened without judgment.
“This is your problem, not mine. Really, Mo, do you think once the mark’s removed, he’s going to be all, ‘Thank you! Please go free as a token of my gratitude?’” I snorted. “Not bloody?—”
I swallowed my words at the sound of a rustle in front of me and froze, hardly daring to breathe. Kason snored on, oblivious. Despite my ears being attuned to our surroundings, I didn’t hear the sound again. Frowning, I pulled the blanket more tightly around my shoulders.
“This is your job, you know,” I told Kason.
“You’re supposed to be keeping guard, not me.
I can’t defend myself against an insect, let alone something worse.
” A sharp sting on my neck elicited a hiss, and I attempted to swat whatever bug it was that bit me.
“See? No, wait, you can’t see because you’re sleeping . Bastard.”
I turned my gaze upward, glaring. “And you . The Unwavering. If you don’t suffer fools, why haven’t you struck me down yet?
I’m a fool for staying at his side, surely even you can admit that.
Also a fool for muttering to myself in the dark,” I admitted grudgingly.
“But you won’t punish me, oh no. You punish him for ill-chosen, unintended words. How does that even make sense?”
Thunder rumbled in the distance.
“Is that you talking back? Am I actually getting a response? Well, good!” I jumped to my feet.
The blanket that had been around my shoulders slipped to the ground, but I paid it no heed.
“Let me share with you my deepest, innermost thoughts then. If you—a god —can’t comprehend the difference between misspoken words with no intention of forming a bond, and an ill-thought-out decision to bond with someone who doesn’t reciprocate, what in all the hells is wrong with you ?
” I flung my bound hands in Kason’s direction.
“You’re killing him because…why? Because you can?
Because you’re petty?” The thunder rumbled more loudly.
“Oh yes! Please, rumble louder! I’m terrified, can’t you tell? ”
I didn’t even know why I was so incensed.
Rage shuddered through me as violently as the coming storm though.
Perhaps because the bond represented one more choice taken away from me?
One more instance where someone who was not Mokido Azenaz made a decision that shaped my life.
My father choosing to abandon Mother and me.
Society choosing to belittle and demean half-bloods.
The gods choosing to take my mother from me when I’d barely been old enough for my balls to drop.
The queen choosing to ignore the challenges faced by her least-fortunate subjects.
Kason choosing to chase me over provinces and territories for a simple theft that meant nothing to anyone except the overprivileged noble I’d stolen from—and choosing to utter fateful words in the wrong place at the wrong time.
What choices had I been able to make that were not merely reactions? Had I been able to make any in my life?
“I choose to stay!” I screamed at the sky. “Does that make me a fool? Does that earn me your disdain, Rhianough? Answer me!”
With a crack, the sky opened, and a deluge slammed into me. I gasped and coughed, inhaling more water than air for a moment. Sputtering noises at my feet stole my attention from Rhianough’s temper tantrum, and I realized Kason was awake.
The witch-hunter blinked and squinted. “Mo… What…?”
I stood over Kason, holding out my blanket to protect him from the worst of the downfall. “Go back to sleep,” I said, my voice hoarse from shouting. I was surprised when Kason closed his eyes without protest, and wondered if he’d ever truly woken up.
Looking up at the sky once more, I muttered, “Fuck you the hardest, Rhianough. I won’t just sit here and let you do this to h—” I coughed. “To us. I won’t.”
The storm saturated the smaller trails, turning them into sucking slashes of mud scarring the countryside.
Trudging along them was nothing short of torture for me and my tired, heavy body.
Kason, on the other hand, walked as though the deluge and its results were nothing but a figment of my imagination.
I wondered if I could sneak a sip of Tisin’s stamina potion.
I had never been so thankful to see the paving of the main trade route.
It was busy as always, and it stank of unwashed bodies, horseshit, and, after the rain, mildewy clothing.
All sorts of people clogged it—on foot with nothing more than a pack on their back, in carts, or leading beasts burdened with cargo.
The styles were as varied as the people.
It was easy to spot the sprites—they tended to wear their hair too long for human fashion, adorned with beads or streaks of color.
There were flashes of blue, orange, green, and vibrant yellow, hues that never appeared in human hair.
I had never figured out if the streaks were natural or not, and it wasn’t a question important enough to seek out my father’s people to answer.
My hair certainly didn’t sport anything beyond black, which had always set me apart.
Humans generally dressed according to their province of origin.
Residents of Urgo Province to the north wore furs and too many layers for the more temperate climate this far south in Hosinda Province.
Those from the southern Wenda Province also wore furs—but they huddled under them, clearly missing the heat of their home.
It was harder to differentiate between the citizens of Retal and Quane—the provinces to the east and west, respectively—since the main source of income in both was fishing.
Ultimately, it was the dyes of the clothing that gave it away.
Retal fisherfolk were more likely to wear pinkish-brown, due to the way the red sands stained their clothing.
It was odd to be among so many people after traveling through the backwoods. A few of the traders we passed noted the tether Kason held, and most jerked their gaze away once they spotted it.
But not all.
“Whatcha got there?” an Urgan shouted as we approached his wagon. A dragonet was perched on his shoulder, more subdued than any I had seen—probably due to the heavy iron collar encircling its neck. Poor thing. “Is he for sale? Or is it a she? Tough to tell with them sprites.”
“None of your concern, citizen,” Kason said, only giving the man the barest of glances. “Please carry on.”
“Eh, no need to be all formal and shit.” The Urgan man smiled, showing off a few missing teeth, and jumped down from his wagon. His dragonet flared its wings, earning it a sharp smack. “I’ll pay ya for him. It. Whatever. I got the coin.”
Ugh.
“No,” Kason said.
“C’mon, sweetness. I don’t care what parts you got.” The Urgan grabbed my elbow with a surprisingly tight grip.
A couple of other traders, attracted by the show, shouted catcalls and encouragement.
Instantly, Kason stood in front of the man, staring him down. “Take your hands from his person.”
“Person? He ain’t a person if you’ve got him all trussed up like this.”