Chapter 30
Rowan
Dark Fae. There were Dark Fae in the woods.
Tremors took over my body and my heart tried to burst free.
The sound thrashed in my ears. Thumping.
Thumping. Thumping. Adrenaline flooded my muscles, preparing me to flee.
I tried to remember what I had been taught in school.
The self-defence lessons. But my mind splintered. I could remember nothing.
Nothing except for the feel of that heavy arm pinning me in place. Nothing except for the smell of that hand covering my mouth. Nothing except for the sight of the three Dark Fae standing in front of me.
“Come now, little bird, don’t be scared,” one said.
“We won’t bite. Much,” snickered another.
Panic tightened my chest, and my muscles locked.
The sickening dread coiling in the pit of my stomach threatened to erupt.
I struggled against the hold of the male behind me, but his fingers constricted painfully around my mouth, cutting off any hope of screaming.
His arm tightened about my waist until all I could move were my legs.
Finally, my mind caught up, and I recalled a scene from a book I’d once read.
I drove my booted heel down onto his foot with all the force I could muster.
But he didn’t so much as flinch, his grip remaining iron-clad.
My attempt, it appeared, only fuelled his fury.
He withdrew his hand from my waist. Before I could register his intent, he punched me in the stomach.
I couldn’t breathe. The air whooshed out so fast, I automatically tried to fold over. But he held me tight. I tried to focus on the men in front of me as tears streamed down my cheeks. But all I could see were sadistic grins. Mocking smiles. Chilling eyes.
“As much as I’m up for a little fun, we need to move. Now,” the apparent leader said, signalling the others to follow. He turned and took off into the darkness of the woods, the others following, dragging me along with them.
My thoughts scattered again. Chaotic. Desperate.
I struggled to comprehend what was happening.
I was being kidnapped. Taken away from my home.
I knew the further they took me, the less chance of escape, so I resolved not to surrender easily.
Summoning every ounce of strength, I planted my heels firmly into the ground, fiercely resisting.
If I could just pry his fingers from my mouth, perhaps I could raise an alarm.
Perhaps someone on the estate would hear me.
“Malvaik, do you need some help there?” the leader jeered.
My fear surged at the unmistakable sound of a blade being drawn.
Before I could react, before I could do anything, something smashed into the back of my head. And everything went black.
A throbbing pain woke me. My heart beating in tandem.
What happened…? Where am I?
Awareness was slow to creep in, but when it did, my eyes shot open.
I was on a horse, my arms tied to the saddle in front of me.
A strip of foul-smelling cloth was around my mouth and a heavy arm was banded about my waist. It held me firmly in place against the lap of a male.
A male, I quickly realised, who was turned on by my movements against him.
I sat up as straight as I could, trying to shift myself forward an inch, but the arm clamped tighter, and he ground his hips into me.
I was certain I was going to be sick. Repulsion swirled in my throat, but I swallowed it down, scared of choking to death. Instead, I tried to keep myself as still as possible. Tried to calm my beating heart. Tried to think.
My eyes wheeled, searching, seeking. We were no longer in the forest. The land around us rose up to steep hills.
I tried to calculate how long I had been unconscious, but my thoughts were still jumbled.
Frantic. I had gone for a walk mid-morning, and now…
I eyed the sun. It appeared to be after noon.
Help! I screamed in my head. I reached down my bonds, desperately searching for Caelan. For Aenan. For whoever could help me. But only silence echoed back.
I needed to be smart. Needed to plan my escape, wait for the perfect opportunity. Though I had no idea where I was or in which direction we had gone since leaving Wyndaryn. How far had they taken me? Were we even on estate lands?
I tried to recall the map on Aenan’s desk, but nothing around us stood out. Hills and valleys were aplenty in Assyntian, based on what I had seen so far. Where would they take me? Did I even know where the Dark Fae lived?
Pictlandia.
I was certain Aenan had told me that, but I had never asked him where it was.
Could not recall seeing it on the map. I racked my brain, but the constant jarring was making the pain in my head worse.
Greyness began to creep around the edges of my vision.
And before I could stop it, I slumped against my captor, fading into unconsciousness.
I awoke again when I felt the earth beneath me turn upside down.
Realising too late it wasn’t the earth moving but myself, I tumbled from the horse and landed heavily, my shoulder and side taking the brunt of the fall.
More pain lanced through me. I rolled away from the sharp hooves of the horse I’d fallen from, looking up at the fae still astride it. A malicious grin split his face.
Not fallen. Pushed.
My hands were still tied together, and I tried to raise them to my face to remove the gag, but they caught just below my ribs.
Looking down, I saw they were tied to a rope around my waist. I tried to scuttle backwards as the fae jumped from the horse, landing near my feet, but I couldn’t get far, strung up as I was.
He ignored me, however, and stalked off towards the others.
I lay there, panting behind my gag, trying to still the wild beat of my heart.
Darkness was creeping in, the muted sky now devoid of precious light.
Light I had been hoping for in order to escape.
But the sun had all but sunk beneath the horizon.
Trying again, I yelled down my bonds. But it felt as if I were calling into the vastness of space. Nothing. Nothing.
Sitting up was a hardship, but I managed. Just in time for Maverick – Malvaik? – to return. The look on his face had me scooting back, my hands raised to ward him off. He grabbed my arm, pulling me roughly from the ground, and I fell against him.
“Get up,” he growled, dragging me forward. I tripped, but he didn’t stop, continuing to drag me as I desperately tried to regain my feet. He tossed me down near the campsite, and I rolled close to the roaring fire, unable to stop myself. So close I could feel the heat prickling my skin.
A water flask flew my way, smacking me in the side of the head. The fae who threw it let out a cruel laugh but did nothing to help as I struggled to pick it up.
The leader sauntered over and sneered at me. “You make a sound and I’ll cut out your tongue,” he threatened before removing the gag.
I gulped in the cool night air, happy to be rid of the binding.
He loosened the ropes about my waist, providing some slack to my tightly bound hands.
I instinctively recoiled when he finished, waiting for him to move back to the others before reaching for the flask.
Taking a hefty gulp, I swallowed, desperately thirsty.
But when it hit the back of my throat, I choked, spluttering.
Not water!
It was something much stronger and burned a trail all the way to my stomach. Tears pricked my eyes and my nose burned. I quickly set it aside, choosing instead to go thirsty. My captors erupted into laughter before turning away and ignoring me once again.
Huddling on the ground, I watched as the sun slowly slipped away.
Night spread across the land, bringing the cold with it, and it wasn’t long before I was shivering.
I was afraid to move any closer to the fae and the warmth of their fire.
Afraid to bring their attention back to me again.
But my teeth chattered, and every now and then one looked at me with a glint in his eye.
I tried to focus on their conversation. On the words they were saying.
But nothing made sense. Either I was not hearing them right or they were speaking a different language.
My senses felt warped, like I was underwater.
Not thinking straight. Not seeing straight.
Not hearing right. The alcohol? I wanted to ask them where they were taking me, but was too scared that a second warning would not be given and they would actually cut out my tongue.
So, I stayed quiet. And cold. And afraid.
Something landing in the grass beside me startled me awake.
Laughter sounded from the direction of the fire.
Using my fingers, I searched along the ground until I found a piece of meat.
Dinner? It was still hot, so I picked what grass and dirt I could from it while it cooled.
I had little appetite, but suspected I would not be offered anything else. Plus, I hadn’t eaten since breakfast.
I must have dozed or passed out again, for when I gained consciousness, the fire was not burning as high, and the men were snoring loudly beside it. One, two, three. I counted, then recounted. Only three men were snoring.
Where was the fourth?
Sitting up slowly, cautiously, I peered through the darkness. Ears straining. Heart hammering.
A hand slammed around my mouth, cutting off my scream, and Malvaik pulled me back. Dragging me away from the glow of the fire.
I struggled, screaming in my throat despite the earlier warning. I knew how this was going to end, and I wasn’t about to just let it happen. But the hand over my mouth let no noise escape.
He pushed me to my back and straddled my kicking legs. With his other hand, he reached down and roughly pawed at my breast through my top. I fought to dislodge him, thumping my bound hands against his chest. His face. Anywhere I could reach.
Slap!
He backhanded me. The knock was so hard, so unexpected, that I lay stunned, blood trickling from the corner of my mouth. Disorientated and dizzy, I was vaguely aware of him ripping my bodice open, and then of his foul hands upon me as he squeezed my breasts hard.
The cold air on my chest roused me and I started to struggle again. Trying to buck him off. I screamed when I felt his hand under my skirts. The noise slashed through the night before he could slam his hand over my mouth again.
Murmurs and movements came from near the fire.
“Malvaik! What are you doing?”
“You know the boss put a do not touch order on her!”
Malvaik did not stop.
Think, Rowan, think!
Trying to keep my intentions hidden and my movements subtle, I reached for the spot where I had last seen his knife.
My heart tried to leap from my chest as I prayed it was still in its place.
When my fingers made contact with the cool leather handle, I almost gave myself away, but swallowed my gasp before it could escape.
Without a second thought, I pulled that blade free and thrust it into his belly, the serrated edge slicing through his soft flesh with ease.
He made a grunting noise. A sharp intake of breath. Then he fell forward, collapsing onto me. The knife was still in my hand. Warmth seeped into my shift.
Blood.
Shocked at what I had just done, I lay there, confused. Bootsteps approached, but I couldn’t move. Could barely breathe as the body pinned me in place.
Suddenly the dead weight was lifted, and a figure loomed. I shrank back, trying to scuttle away, still desperately clutching the knife. My fingers, slick with blood, lost their grip, and the blade was ripped from my grasp.
“The stupid bitch tried to gut him!” he laughed.
“Sneakier than she seems.”
“Good riddance, if you ask me.”
Their voices faded as I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to hold my bodice together. Trying to hold myself together. My mind fractured as I struggled to understand what was happening. Curling in tight, I stared at the male now lying beside me.
The male with an arrow protruding from his back.
I kept playing the scene over and over and over again. The sharpness of the knife. The pain and violence. The laughter. The abuse. The arrow.
It was all too much. Tears flowed, a continuous line that dripped off my cheeks, at the realisation of what had just happened. What had nearly happened. And what was still to come.
Help me.
Somebody. Anybody.
Please. Help me.