Chapter Eight
We rode in silence for another two hours. Neither of us spoke as the land slowly changed around us. The open fields gradually dissolved into dense forest,
The towering trees pressed closer together until the road felt swallowed by their ancient roots. Branches tangled overhead like grasping fingers choking all signs of life from the sky.
The air smelled different here, herbs, damp earth and old magic. It lingered sharp in my nose with every inward breath.
My eyes moved constantly, darting towards every crack of a twig or rustle in the undergrowth.
Every shift made my pulse tighten. I didn’t feel at ease in the forest. I was not home.
I had no idea what lurked beyond the treeline, or if the creatures that lived here would greet us with curiosity or bared teeth.
The sky slowly bled from soft blue to iron as evening approached. Streaks of orange clung stubbornly to the horizon, the dying sun cast everything in a harsh, molten glow that painted the trees in burning gold.
It took my eyes a moment to adjust, and it took Rhael even less to decide we would stop for the night.
He chose a small clearing beside a narrow stream that lingered over smooth stones. The position gave him a clear view of the surrounding woods in every direction. The open ground made it impossible for anything to approach unseen.
At least, that would work in theory. Although, I still couldn't shake the sensation that we were not alone. The forest felt watchful. I tried to convince myself that perhaps he had guards lingering somewhere. A pair of silent sentinels keeping their distance.
It would not have surprised me, but I could not see anyone. Instead of looking into the darkening woods, I focused my attention on Rhael, who had set up the tent and gathered firewood with quiet efficiency.
Every time I offered to help, he refused without so much as even lifting his head. Instead, he ordered me to pull the blankets and bedding from the leather bag, tied to the side of the saddle. So, I did.
I carried them to the tent and laid them out the best I could before returning to the clearing.
By the time I emerged, the fire was already burning.
Warm light flickered across the space, dancing along trunks of nearby trees.
Shadows stretched and twisted across the ground as if they were alive.
If I had been alone, I would have found it even more eerie.
Rhael sat on the ground, staring into the flames. He broke sticks slowly with his hands, tossing the splintered pieces into the fire one by one, as if the act himself would burn away whatever thoughts sat heavy in his mind.
He was still wearing his riding leathers, the dark material highlighting the sharp lines of his body. The tie had been removed from his hair, leaving the dark strands to fall freely around his shoulders in waves. It should have made him look less intimidating, instead he looked more dangerous.
Slowly, I removed my riding jacket. Sitting near the fire in nothing but my long sleeved dress. The air wasn't cold, every breeze that moved across my body carried a strange, almost comforting, warmth.
My hair had become a disaster. Strands were already escaping the braid, sticking out in every direction like rebellious sparks. I tried to tame them back towards my head, but eventually gave up.
“There are some things you need to understand.” His voice broke the silence so suddenly that my head snapped up from where I had been staring into my lap, pretending I did not feel the restless urge to run.
“More rules?” I asked cautiously.
Judging by the rigid line of his shoulders, the conversation was not going to benefit me. His eyes fixed on mine, dark circles beneath them filled with the same cold severity I hoped we had left behind at the lake.
“The Wolf King is perceptive. He smells lies, tastes fear and he will be judging us the moment we step into his territory,” he said slowly, another twig snapping between his fingers.
“So how do we do this?” I asked, leaning forward slightly. For once, my sarcasm failed me. I was tired. My muscles screamed from hours on horseback, aching in ways I had never experienced before.
“He must believe you are truly my companion. That I chose you as my equal, rather than a slave.” He explained. I watched as his hands tightened in his lap as the pile of sticks beside him finally ran out.
“So what? I walk behind you and scowl at everyone?” I ask a small smirk playing on my lips. The sarcastic comment slipped out of my mouth before I could stop it. Apparently, my tiredness couldn't stop it after all.
Rhael’s gaze snapped to me, sharp enough to cut through diamonds. His knuckle whitened where his hands clenched together. The flames cast shifting shadows access his face, carving deeper hollows beneath his cheekbones and sharpening the angles of his jaw.
“No, you will need to smell like me as a start,” he said flatly.
I blinked. For a moment I thought I had misunderstood him. Rhael was Fae, he had a scent, every creature did. The wolves would be able to smell creatures from a mile away. Based on their distaste for humans I would probably smell like dirt.
“How exactly do I change my smell?” I asked slowly, crossing my arms. Deep down I already knew the answer. I simply was not ready to hear it spoken aloud.
“You share my bed.” The words were simple, but each syllable dropped into my stomach like stones.
“Absolutely not,” I snapped, rising to my feet before I had realised I stood. I didn't know what I intended to do, but I sure as hell would not sit there whilst he told me we would be sharing a bed, on the first night of our trip, inside of a tent.
“Elara,” he said calmly, “it is not optional.”
His voice did not rise, but it was clear he would not budge. He had already decided, made the choice without even saying a word to me. Despite the promise to protect me, the bargain of tying his life to mine, I was still what I always had been.
A slave.
“You expect me to sleep beside you? When I have nothing but a cotton shift. I may be many things, but I am not that easy,” I snapped again, my eyes locked with him as I argued.
My shoulders squared, that familiar defiance returning in full force. I had not questioned him on many things, following his orders in front of the Nymphs, allowing him to hold me on that damned horse. But this was too much.
“You will,” Rhael told me. His voice remained perfectly level, no anger, no emotion. He simply watched me as I began pacing along the opposite side of the fire.
“No,” I shook my head, my steps became sharper and more restless.
“Elara,” he warned. I heard the irritation beginning to seep into his voice. Good. Let him feel a fraction of the irritation I had felt daily.
“No,” I repeated. Stopping my pacing to turn to him, my jaw set. I wanted to look intimidating but judging by the look of amusement in his eyes, I failed.
“This is political. Not intimate. I won't touch you until necessary,” he said calmly. As if he were doing nothing more than planning a meeting.
“You think that makes me feel better?” I laughed harshly. Did he truly believe that reminding me I was merely a political tool would comfort me?
“Yes,” he said looking up at me, as he pressed his hands behind him into the ground. His brows lifted slightly at my laugh, as though his confusion at my reaction was genuine.
“It doesn’t.” I muttered rolling my eyes.
For all his intelligence, it was becoming painfully clear that the Fae King understood very little about how other people felt. That or he had just never cared to learn. Arrogant bastard.
“You will be safe, you heard the bargain. Your life is tied to mine,” he said quietly, rising to his feet.
I watched as he crossed the distance between us in three long strides, until he stood before me. The smell of smoke from the fire pit clung to his clothes. Instead of soothing me, it only made my heart hammer more violently against my ribs.
“I don't have a choice, do I?” I asked, my shoulders sagging. Despite what he said, about the belief we had to show of being equal it was not true.
“No,” he murmured, “you do not.”
His hand rose, warm fingers brushing against my cheek, the heat of his skin mingled with the warmth of the fire. For a moment neither of us moved, stuck in a moment neither of us were sure of.
Eventually, he let his hand drop and began to busy himself around the camp, as if nothing had happened. He prepared food and even went into the tent, adjusting the bedding so that both beds were combined into one space.
I refused to watch that part. Instead, I returned to the fire, sitting down and staring into the flames. When this journey had begun, part of me had been excited. It had offered adventure, freedom, and a chance to finally leave Vaetharyn.
Instead, I was travelling beside a King who had tied his life to mine and planned to push me to my limits. I was expected to share his bed, wear his scent, and pretend that we were happily bound together, so a pack of wolves would not tear us apart.
It was humiliating, and I hated every moment of it.
Dinner tasted like ash. Still, I forced it down, chewing each bite far longer than necessary. Determined to make the meal last as long as possible, in hopes that exhaustion would claim me before I had to crawl into the tent.
The forest was eerily quiet by the time Rhael finally stood. Despite the quiet, the feeling of being watched remained. The shadows seemed to hold their breath as he moved past me.
“I really think this is a bad idea,” I whispered, one last ditch attempt to get him to change his mind.
“Elara,” he warned, my name curled from his mouth like smoke.
“Rhael!” I replied stubbornly, mimicking his tone as a lasting act of defiance.
“Do not test me tonight,” he warned as he stood at the edge of the tent. The fire died out making the air colder than it had been in hours.
“Why not wrap me in your cloak?” I tried. “Would that not accomplish the same thing?”
“It would be weaker, less convincing,” he countered, his eyes narrowing as I stood to join him at the tent's entrance.
“So, my skin has to touch yours” I assumed. The words left my mouth quietly as I stepped inside, standing beside the makeshift bed.
The truth was far simpler than any argument I could make. I had never shared a bed with a man like this before. Some masters had used my body, discarding me afterwards. But I had never simply slept beside someone. It unsettled something deep within me.
“I won’t touch you any more than necessary. I have no intention of taking this further tonight,” he said as he pulled back the blankets.
“You keep saying that.” I whispered as I pinched the bridge of my nose, taking in a deep breath and letting it out slowly.
“You keep doubting me,” he smirked, his tongue brushing briefly against the metal ring in his lip.
“Someone has to,” I muttered.
A quiet breath escaped him, half laugh half curse, as he climbed into bed and shifted to one side, leaving a space beside him. There was no point arguing anymore. I knew that, and had resigned myself to it.
So, I turned my back, slowly removing my riding leathers and stripped down to the white cotton underdress, giving Rhael a chance to get ready for bed also.
I took a deep breath, forcing myself to slip inside the covers before I could talk myself out of it once more. Warmth enveloped me and I found some small comfort in the fact that I at least would not freeze.
I had barely settled before Rhael shifted closer. Heat radiating from his body through the thin layer of fabric I had to sleep in. My breath caught as his arm slid around my waist, pulling me firmly against his chest.
He was shirtless, I could feel the ropes of muscle beneath my fingers as he settled. I tried not to think about it, shifting my legs and arms until I could find a comfortable position.
“You are wound tighter than a bowstring,” he murmured, his breath running over my shoulder.
“I am uncomfortable,” I lied. The bed was warm, comfortable, and Rhael’s presence was not nearly as unsettling as I feared.
Rhael chuckled as his breathing eventually slowed, deepening as sleep claimed him. Soon the quiet rhythm filled the tent, along with the faint sound of his snoring.
My cheeks burned. I was painfully aware of every place our bodies touched. His thigh against mine, his hand resting over my stomach.
The worst came when he rolled slightly towards me. The outline of him pressing against me through his underwear. My face burned hotter as realisation slowly dawned on me. Something cold pushed through the fabric. Metallic. My eyes widened in the darkness.
The King of the Fae had a fucking cock piercing!