Chapter 46 No Mercy #2
Ansel used nothing but his legs to drag the lifeless man’s body closer. When his jacket pocket was within reach, Riven leaned forward, using the knife clenched between his teeth to knock the set of keys free.
Ansel groaned as he twisted his body just enough to grab them with his restrained hand. Fingertips grasping the keys, he slid them along the side of his cuff. The restraints released.
I’d never seen a key like it, nor did I care to question it. Ansel jumped up, crossing the length of the room in two strides and sliding the key along each of my restraints.
He looked me over, both of us aware of the pooling blood.
“She needs a healer,” Riven snarled. “Not a Dreamsoul.”
I’d never witnessed such anger from Riven, violence radiating through his eyes.
“Get his restraints off,” I said.
Ansel seemed ready to leave Riven to his fate, but with a reluctant sigh, he stepped over and released him.
Riven stood and brushed his hands off, all before drawing his fist back and punching Ansel in the jaw.
“Riven!” I yelled.
Ansel smiled as he kicked Riven in the chest, knocking him to the floor.
Riven grabbed the knife that had been used to cut my insides, and hopped to his feet.
“Enough!” I snapped.
Riven glanced at me, then at the blood dripping from the table. He threw the knife to the corner of the room, then pulled his black shirt over his head and brought it to me.
“This might help with the bleeding,” he said.
I sighed, shoving the shirt between my legs.
“But I’m still not done with you,” Riven snarled as he snatched the knife back off the ground and pointed it at Ansel.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I cursed.
Ansel stepped forward. “Try it, runt.”
“What did you just call me?”
Ansel swirled a small bolt of lightning on his finger. “Are you as deaf as you are dull?” he taunted.
Amzee came bursting through the door, with Beck shadowing in behind her.
They both stopped and stared at the cloth stuffed between my legs, Riven with his shirt off and knife clenched in hand, Ansel holding lightning in his grasp, and finally, the dead body.
Amzee shifted her weight. “Did we just walk in on some weird sex thing?”
Riven grimaced.
“No,” I answered firmly.
“The Princess needs a healer,” Riven grumbled, walking over to the table. He gave Ansel a menacing glare before cradling me in his arms.
“I can walk,” I said.
“But you won’t.”
Riven carried me out of the room, with Beck leading the way. I had plenty of questions, but exhaustion outweighed my curiosity.
I focused on Riven instead, our faces close enough that I could nearly taste the honey in his eyes.
“You look so angry,” I whispered.
His dimple peeked out as his lips remained in a flat line.
“I should kill him for dragging you into this mess—for bedding the queen, then taking you as a bride. He should have his balls nailed to his dome for what’s happened to you.”
I finally knew why Riven chose to be quiet most of the time. The space inside his mind was often so dark, he chose to not subject anyone else to it.
We understood each other in that way.
“I need Ansel for heirs,” I mumbled, eyes fluttering. Tears crept into the corners of my eyes. It was as if my body knew the damage had already been done.
Riven’s face tensed, and he leaned his cheek onto my forehead. “You are enough, with or without being able to create something more,” he said softly.
I wiped a tear away with my sleeve before it could get the chance to scald Riven’s bare chest. As he carried me through weathered hallways, Amzee held a flaming orb in her hand behind us, illuminating the area.
Drakers’ bodies were scattered along the floor. Amzee and Beck must have torn through the Waywards to find us. She would have to tell me the story another day.
This was the one time I was thankful my blood wasn’t venomous. While it would’ve been convenient if the Sapphires ever tried to drink it, it was a small mercy that I wasn’t hurting Riven as the shirt between my legs began to drip.
“How much further?” Ansel called to Beck.
“Almost out.”
“I’ll have to take her to Jaime,” Ansel planned aloud.
Jaime was one of the two Witchlords on our side. He was a Lyonheart, just as Clarke had been. He might be able to fix me.
I shuddered. There would be no mercy for Queen Delaina.
She would die for this. If I couldn’t create life, then she didn’t get to live hers. No amount of troops, ships, or Witchlords could save her from me.
Up stone steps we went, exiting through a door that led to an alleyway not far from where I’d been captured. The underground cellars were practically hidden in plain sight. Did the Northern Waywards have these as well?
Amzee dimmed her light, casting subtle, golden shadows on our faces.
Beck analyzed our group, particularly me. Riven still held strong with me in his arms, blood completely soaking the shirt between my legs.
He reached out to me. “I can’t shadow us all there at once. We only have hours before dawn and the ships will be visible. I haven't been in a piss-soaked cell for days. I can take her to the Lyonheart.”
Beck may have been more slender than Riven, but I’d bet he was just as strong.
“I’ll meet you there, make sure there’s no trouble with Jaime at the very least,” Ansel said quietly. “I don’t need to be shadowed.”
Riven held me closer. “I will not leave her again.”
Beck nodded, glancing at Amzee for a brief moment and back to me in Riven’s arms. “Then I’ll need you to run, Sir.”
Riven readjusted me. “I’ve been waiting to use my legs all day. Let’s go.”
Just as Ansel had promised, Jaime welcomed us into his home and worked quickly while Riven watched for threats.
The healing felt strange, the magic swirling around my abdomen and legs like warm liquid being poured over me.
Lord Jaime’s blond hair was combed back, curling just slightly behind his ears. He was already dressed in his Witchlord’s cloak and armor, ready for battle. As quiet as he might’ve been, he was polite and concise when he needed to speak.
I didn’t mind the silence as I lay on the hardwood floor, a couch pillow resting under my head as I stared at the high ceiling.
I’d told Beck about where I’d stashed the weapons, and requested he return my orb. He promised to distribute everything swiftly, and he must have, by the rate at which he returned to Keeper’s Street, orb in hand.
With Riven by my side and the orb healthily glowing, I sighed in relief.
“I’ve done what I can,” Jaime said, offering me a hand.
My long, ragged shirt braced against my knees as he pulled me to my feet. There was no blood trailing down my legs, and no soreness in my abdomen or back.
“Will I be able to have children?” I asked frankly. I didn’t need my feelings spared. I needed the truth.
He picked the pillow up from the floor, tossing it over to the couch. “I don’t know, but if you do, consider Jaime for a name,” he joked, refusing to meet my eye. Swallowing my tears, fire crept up my chest. There was no time for weeping, only requital.
“The sun will rise within the hour. We’ll need to take you to a ship first,” Riven said delicately.
I shook my head. “No. I will go last, or not at all.”
His hard eyes softened, but he nodded at the order and handed me a fresh set of clothes.
Amzee and Beck shadowed back in through the door, Amzee’s hair now braided back with a red ribbon running through it.
She brushed herself off, eyes bright at the sight of me standing.
“I found a purple ribbon for your braid!” she chimed, holding it up and shaking it around like a worm, holding out her own braid with the opposite hand as an example.
I crossed the room to hug her.
“I’m so glad you’re okay,” I said. “Though, I never doubted you.”
She squeezed me tight. “I’m glad you’re okay. Now, please hurry and wash up before I have no time to braid your hair. I had to arm wrestle three men to win this ribbon!” she exclaimed, wiggling it around again. Even the darkness of the Waywards couldn't dim Amzee’s fire.
Mine had only just ignited.
The queen would be wise to remember that even the smallest fires burn like hell.