Chapter 11
For hours, we marched, and even with the pain knotting at the base of my neck, I refused to pick my head up. One wrong glance and the mating bond would wrap like a divine noose around my neck, solidifying my connection with the fucking Issaraeth.
The idea was too painful to even consider. To be mated to a male who systematically slaughtered his own kin simply for refusing to believe the narrative that the Demons were evil and needed to be eradicated from this earth? For choosing peace in a time of war?
Loathing, acidic and bitter, curdled in my gut.
The accursed sun continued to rise over the mountains at our backs. Through the veil of my hair, all I knew was that we were headed down, down, down. Away from the promise of safety or chance that I could escape and hide in some cave.
The forests offered no such opportunities.
We entered a misty copse of trees, the earth softening beneath our feet. I dug mine in, finding an anchoring root to aid my obstinate refusal to move. The Issaraeth stumbled, and for one vicious heartbeat I hoped he’d break his nose falling into a boulder.
“Walk,” he snapped once he recovered, his fingers tightening around my upper arm.
“No.” A single defiant word, yet it was my only lifeline in this power imbalance. The toe of my boot slid deeper into the tree’s embrace. I kept my focus on the rough bark as he rounded in front of me.
“Do you think you have a choice here?”
“None that you’re giving me,” I bit out.
A frustrated exhale ghosted over the top of my head.
“You love me being powerless, don’t you, Issaraeth?” I taunted, jerking my shoulder away. “After all, that’s why you need your Command power. No one would follow you without a leash around their throat. Your magic is all you have to earn respect.”
His grip turned bruising.
I let a slow, venomous smile bloom on my lips.
“I think I liked it better when you were silent,” he hissed. Finally, he let me go.
The phantom lightning he’d sparked under my skin sputtered out.
But I didn’t move. Didn’t let him know how he had been affecting me.
“We’ll stop here and rest for a few hours,” he said like he was trying to regain the upper hand in the situation.
I sat back against the tree that had supported my rebellion.
The bronze weighed heavily against my wrists. At least with it touching my skin, the prophecies wouldn’t come. But I couldn’t access the well of light in my chest either to defend myself.
Essentially, I was fucked.
And yet, I was testing the most dangerous male in the Angel Realm.
“Here,” he said, shoving a waterskin into my field of vision. With the barest unfurling of my body, I accepted it. I drank a few gulps—awkwardly, since I refused to raise my head. My stomach panged and growled, hunger a constant companion since fleeing the royal hunters the first time.
“Eat,” the Issaraeth ground out. Something heavy thumped at my feet.
Slowly, I eased my legs apart, finding a strip of dried meat waiting atop a nestle of pine needles.
I snatched it without thanks—why should I when he was the reason I was exhausted and starved in the first place?—and dug my teeth into the sinew. Within minutes, the entirety had disappeared. Water washed down the remnants.
The male moved about, my every muscle tense and on alert. I tracked him with my intuition and sound alone, waiting for the moment he’d try to pry me apart and force me to walk again.
Instead, something wrapped around the chain binding my wrists together.
“Up,” he ordered.
“Even without your magic, you just love issuing commands,” I commented. “Can I get a please?”
“Absolutely fucking not,” he snarled.
I pressed my lips together to smother a triumphant grin. My taunts were thorns under his skin, and I savored the glimmer of power they offered me.
“Wow, three words this time, that must be a record for you,” I jeered. Still, I obeyed, and only because I noted the rope now attached to the bronze shackles.
At least now he wouldn’t be touching me, wouldn’t be igniting treasonous sparks beneath my skin.
Even if it left me as little more than a cow he was leading to slaughter.
I kept my head down anyway as we wound through the forest. My muscles ached, none more so than my neck. But the risk of raising my gaze was too great.
Eventually, night fell, and with it, we paused our trek. A group of trees hugging a small pool offered a semblance of shelter. After my desperate flight through the mountains, dirt clung to me like a second skin. Crumpled leaves stuck in my tangled hair.
I cringed at the filth. I wanted a bath. Desperately. Almost shamelessly. But that would mean undressing and diving into that pool—if the Issaraeth would deign to allow it. There would be a price, of that I was certain. When it came to owing him something, though, I’d rather roll in the mud.
Finding another tree to support me, I once again curled in on myself.
A fire crackled to life some distance away, bringing with it a bite of heat that nipped at my fingers. The altitude, even in the late summer, made nights chilly.
A shiver wracked my frame, but I refused to move from my position. Metal banged against metal from whatever the Issaraeth was busying himself with.
Minutes later, the delicious scent of something roasting twisted through my nostrils like a cruel temptation. My stomach rumbled as savory spices thickened the air around us.
How dare he feast while I starve.
The idea that he would choke on whatever he cooked spread through me, too tempting for the rational, Elessarum side of me to ignore. How I wished the Goddess would allow it to come to pass.
I gritted my teeth, nails digging into my legs from how hard I gripped myself. I would not give him the satisfaction of asking to be fed. Or to have a blanket to ward off the cold. I would take nothing from this male who was in the process of taking everything from me.
Purposeful steps approached, and I stiffened, breath catching in my throat. Because threaded through the gamey smell was an unmistakable stormwood that ghosted over my skin and heated it in an entirely unwanted way.
“Time to eat,” the Issaraeth said, nudging me with the toe of his boot. The velvet of his voice rolled a shiver down my spine.
“Not hungry,” I replied, hoping my stomach wouldn’t betray me.
He crouched, and I flinched away. “You have to consume something other than water. That jerky was not enough.”
I didn’t fool myself thinking he actually cared about my health.
He pushed something against my leg, but I made no move to take it.
A low, frustrated sound slipped out of him. “I know you’re not stupid, Sylaira. Ignore me all you want, but it is my responsibility to deliver you to the Korona alive and well. So if you refuse to take this food, I’ll have no choice but to use my magic to hold you down while I feed you.”
“How romantic. Does that usually work on the females you hunt?”
A dark, sinister laugh raised the hairs on the back of my neck. “If I were trying to fuck you, you would know.”
Traitorous heat flickered in my belly. “I’d never let you touch me like that,” I snarled, fingers tightening into fists like I was squashing the embers of desire.
Why did monsters have to be so pretty?
“Oh, but you would, once you had a taste,” he crooned, moving closer and bringing the scent of real food with him. “Your pacifist lovers were probably far too gentle, especially with a female like you. Real power, my power…well, I know exactly what to do with it.”
The picture he painted only fanned the flames rising inside me.
“You wouldn’t know what to do with a willing female. Only bound ones,” I said through gritted teeth.
“Do you want to test that theory, little fugitive?” he laughed darkly. “I’m more than happy to allow it. All you need to do is ask.”
Yet as his voice rolled over the last word, I got the sense that the asking would be more like begging. I didn’t need to see my cheeks to know they were the color of a sunrise.
“Fine, give me the food then.” I snapped a hand out for whatever he was offering me, if only to get him to go away. Because we were treading dangerous territory.
Something heavy and wet settled there, and then, the Issaraeth retreated.
My nerves still buzzed like they were primed for a strike of lightning.
I brought the food into my orbit, noting a piece of rabbit dripping in some sort of oil.
I hadn’t realized he’d killed our dinner, but I was too hungry to put more thought into it than that.
Teeth sinking into the gamey meat, I tore it from the bones, chewing only a few times before swallowing it down.
The entirety vanished in moments, and I even licked my fingers clean. The Issaraeth’s heavy gaze never left me. I hated that he was a witness to my starvation. That he caused it in the first place.
I tossed the bones away and settled back against the rough bark. Crossing my arms, I stared into the fire. The warmth beckoned me closer, like a blazing trap. Each crackle a sharp invitation to warm myself. Each lick of orange hues against the dark a signal of safety.
“Sylaira.”
My name on my mate’s lips made me jump. The word in his mouth was unholy, and yet the depth of his baritone when he spoke it made me want to hear it again.
I loathed myself for that.
“You’ll take a bedroll while Ilae keeps watch.”
His tone left no room for argument. I did it anyway. “I’m fine right here.” The tremor that swept through me before I’d finished speaking exposed my lie.
“Out of my reach and in danger from a predator sneaking down the trunk of that tree? I don’t think so,” he growled.
“Death is better than being with you,” I shot back.
He scoffed, and in my periphery, his form rose to his full height.
Rather than have his hands on me again, I lurched forward, my bound wrists making standing unsteady.
Thank the Goddess my eyes were permanently affixed to the ground, otherwise I would have tripped over a gnarled root.
I half-stumbled, half-sank onto the empty bedroll on the opposite side of the fire from the Issaraeth.
I’d scarcely hit the ground before I turned my back to him.
Heat licked my backside and sank into my bones. The relief was short-lived as a gust of wind swept through our camp, my body still exposed without a blanket to cover me. But I couldn’t deny that this position was infinitely more comfortable than how I’d slept while fleeing my mate.
Shuffling around until my neck wasn’t at such an awkward angle, I finally settled—as much as one could as a captive of their enemy. Owls hoots soon filled the night, accompanied by a chorus of insects who took advantage of their prime season to live.
Too bad that would never happen for me.
Instead, I was headed to Sivy, situated in the heart of the Es? Forest. Unlike the alpine trees we found ourselves in now, snow would never reach it.
From what I’d learned, it was balmy year-round, thanks to its favorable location halfway between the Skala Mountains and the vast ocean that led to the other continents.
Tears pricked the back of my nose at the thought of being held in the capital so soon. For decades, I’d been on the run. And to realize that it was all over now? It gutted me.
One hot drop leaked out of my eye. A single concession to the despair clawing at my chest.
At least there, Heraphia and I could be together again. Even if they sent Zuriel off to the front, I would be there to hold her, to comfort her. And she could do the same to me when my visions went dark and twisted.
I almost wished the bronze cuffs would become permanently affixed to my flesh. When they did come off, I’d have to sneakily consume more virelthorn to suppress that side of my magic.
And currently, I had none.
My thoughts continued to spin and circle, much like I was executing a full Vaela? performance solo, long into the night. And by the time morning came, my emotions were a tattered mess.
Despite the myriad of thoughts that had drowned my night, one remained prominent and pronounced: I could not ever let our mating bond snap into place.
Three weeks. I could keep my head down that long. Then, he’d be off to hunt more Elessarum and I’d never have to see him again.
So long as I didn’t look up, I was still free.
So long as I didn’t meet his eyes, I was still me.
I could survive his cage. And the moment the silver bars widened, I’d escape again.
Someday, I’d return, and then, they would fear my wrath.