Chapter 27
Igroan into the straw mattress of Brother Thomas’s bed, then try to heave myself up into a sitting position and somewhat succeed. My boots skim the grass floor mat.
‘Lie back down. You’re bleeding through your shirt.’ Clara dabs a cold cloth to my back. ‘You might need stitches.’
Uneasiness settles over me that Brother Thomas called her here. Clara’s exactly everything I thought she would be – lovely and kind. Nurturing. But she can’t be dragged into this. Nobody else can get hurt.
‘I’ll be fine,’ I whisper. It’s probably true. Dezzy will fix me up. I consider standing, but a throbbing pain scrapes down my vertebrae. It comes with the dizzying urge to vomit. ‘I just need another minute, and then I’ll leave.’
‘No, you will not,’ Clara says, grabbing my wrist like I might actually run. ‘Just rest.’
I breathe in, trying to do that, and my mind returns to the jail. To Brother Thomas and Lucky calling for help. To the sound of Soren breathless as he took out his rage, before stopping, face filled with something that looked like regret.
I’m the biggest fool alive.
Because I didn’t just let him hurt me.
I asked for it.
I clench my eyes shut. I should have fought Soren with my bare hands. Fought to whatever end. All I did was delay the inevitable. He’s now in control, and eventually, when I’ve stopped being useful to him, he’s going to turn us all i–
‘Where is she?’
At Ryland’s voice, my head lifts. What’s he doing here?
Little John shoves past Brother Thomas in the doorframe and Clara leaps off the bed. ‘No, you can’t be in here.’
‘But Ma,’ he cries, ‘I want to see –’
His voice disappears as Clara scoots everyone out but Ryland. The frayed strip of fabric dividing the two rooms falls closed. Ryland looks every bit the elite guard: tall and fierce with weapons strapped all over him. Chiselled face etched with concern.
Despite my initial confusion, I’m hit with an inexplicable wave of relief. His gaze rakes over me. I grow self-conscious. My loose hair is tangled around my face. I’m dirty and my cheeks are tight with dried tears.
‘What happened?’ He comes closer and drops to one knee before me. ‘Are you hurt?’
I fill my lungs and wince as it painfully stretches my back. ‘I …’ My teeth bite my lips closed. Don’t say more. If I’ve learned anything today, it’s that no one is safe if they get involved with me. Ryland especially is too honourable to look the other way.
He leans closer, eyes scouring me. ‘Marian,’ he prompts gently.
Shame crawls over me like an army of beetles, nipping at my skin. Ryland would never have let Soren just beat him. Best him. Control him. ‘I-I …’ My eyes grow hot.
His hand gently cups my arm, but he looks to the door, and I realise: a few words with Brother Thomas and he’ll know everything anyway. ‘I was caught,’ I say. ‘For the raids.’
‘How? What happened?’ His voice carries an authoritative ring.
When I don’t speak right away, he gently pushes a strand of hair out of my face. ‘It’s okay. You’re safe now.’ His hand drifts over my shoulder and the pain from his touch is instant. Searing. I can’t stifle my sharp intake of breath.
He stiffens, then rises to his feet. I count the seconds as he stares at my back. ‘You were whipped?’
‘Yes.’
Very gently, he lifts the fabric from my skin, then rips the back of my guardsman shirt. He curses as it falls open, exposing my wounds. The cool air simultaneously eases and intensifies my pain. I inhale shallow breaths.
‘The Commander did this?’ The hard edge in his voice is harsher now.
‘No. It …’ My distressed thoughts come surging back. There’s an intense need to protect him from the fallout of simply associating with me. The more he knows, the more he’ll get involved. ‘Ryland, I –’
‘Was it Soren?’
My gaze flits to him.
His jaw clenches, and he nods as if I answered him out loud.
‘Please. You can’t confront him. It’s too dangerous.’ My chest becomes unbearably tight as my panic grows.
It hits me that danger isn’t a deterrent for an elite guard.
But it’s not until I touch his arm that I realise that my growing distress isn’t only about another altercation with Soren.
It’s difficult to admit when I need something.
Someone. But right now, what I want most is him. ‘Ryland, I need … please stay with me.’
His shoulders loosen, and he lowers his head. ‘Of course. But I need to understand how this happened.’
I finally relent and explain the events that led to my deal with Soren and ultimately being whipped.
He listens intently, eyes flashing with sparks of fury.
When I’ve finished, I wait, hoping he’ll have some grand revelation about how to fix this – something that won’t risk a deadly confrontation or expose the people I care about.
‘I have to be smart,’ I say. ‘I need a plan, but it feels like my only option is to continue to bow at Soren’s feet. ’
‘That’s not going to happen,’ Ryland promises.
I wish that were true, but he can’t promise that. ‘If I can get Soren his promotion, then maybe he’ll leave me –’
‘You’d never be able to drop your guard. He’ll always have this to hold over you.’
My lungs empty. I know. Soren holds all the cards now.
‘What would happen if you told the Commander that Soren attacked you over a personal vendetta? Leave out the raids. Tell me Atlas wouldn’t flay Soren on the spot.’
‘Maybe,’ I admit. ‘But Soren would also do his damnedest to take me and my friends down with him. Atlas just might believe him – he did earlier when Soren and I disagreed.’
Roughly, Ryland shoves a hand through his hair. The sharp glint of calculation and something dangerous flickers in his eyes.
‘Stop,’ I say. ‘I can’t have you involved. Soren will turn on you, too. Get you in trouble.’
He laughs humourlessly. ‘I don’t care about that.’
‘You should. I do. It will threaten your coal deal. Worse, if Soren succeeds in convincing Atlas that you’re an enemy … Atlas will kill you.’
Ryland’s eyes soften at the emotion fissuring my voice. ‘And what would he do to you?’
My lips pull to the side, pain my constant companion. ‘Atlas wouldn’t kill me … at least I don’t think so. But he would unleash Coatl on me … and make me wish they would.’
Determination hardens his eyes. ‘Then we should use the connection.’
I swallow, not sure how to answer, though my body can’t say the same. A rush of nervous excitement flutters through me. He’s talking about getting married.
‘I could heal you,’ he whispers earnestly.
‘But we’d have to share the pain, right?’ I imagine him with some of my wounds and vigorously shake my head. ‘I don’t want to give you this.’
‘That’s good, and we can argue about it later. But healing isn’t the only aspect of the connection that would help us.’
Yes, sharing memories and communicating wordlessly would give us an advantage against Atlas or anyone else. Also, getting married could free me from Atlas’s grip. A sure fix? No.
But there’s potential.
I falter for a beat, because relinquishing Atlas’s hold on me isn’t all a marriage would mean. Ryland would be stuck in a calculated union. A marriage of convenience with someone he barely knows. Permanently.
What an extraordinary sacrifice for him.
I frown. ‘This is your one chance at the connection, and you said yourself, it’s not temporary. Do you really think you could marry someone … you don’t love?’
I watch as he ponders the question, not rushing. ‘Of all the things I’m worried about, Marian, falling endlessly, hopelessly in love with you is not one of them.’
My bones might be melting.
His eyes light with a sincerity that seizes my chest. ‘This isn’t a favour I’m offering you. You’re not taking away my one chance. I choose you, if you’ll have me. Marrying you would be my greatest honour.’
My pulse is relentless as hope and longing ignite inside me.
‘But that doesn’t mean we have to barrel into this. We’ll use the gifts of the connection, but the rest of it, our relationship, can take whatever speed we want.’
‘So let me get this straight,’ I say. ‘You’re okay with rushing into marriage with a girl you barely know, all so you can possibly help her by using a rare and unexplainable magic … that may not solve her problems at all.’
‘Yes,’ he assures me. ‘But the connection will help us. I really believe that’s its purpose.’
I can’t decide whether my chest is swelling or on the verge of caving in. In all my life, I’ve never met a man as selfless and as honourable.
‘And what about you?’ he asks. ‘Are you okay with marrying a man you barely know—’
‘Yes,’ I say, quickly. I may have questioned it for his sake, but not my own. He’s offering solutions wrapped in hope that my suffocating, perilous life won’t be like this forever. But he’s much more than just a way out.
By accepting, I gain an incredible partner, something I didn’t dare let myself dream of.
Butterflies fill my stomach. I search myself, wading through the wild rapids of emotions rushing through me, but don’t find any reservations. There isn’t a part of me that doesn’t want to see this come true.
He smiles. It’s breathtaking. ‘Good. Then let’s do this properly.’ He grips my fingers and lowers himself to one knee. ‘Marian, will you do me the honour of becoming my wife? Right now?’