13. Esther #2
Regent can barely sit upright on the horse but offers me his hand.
I’m torn as I look back at Blaze, the one person I should be running alongside and not away from.
But pure hatred and killing radiate from him as he attempts to break free from the mud that glues him to the ground.
He reaches for his pocket, but vines whip into the barn, binding him, my magic once again taking over.
I look over my shoulder and back at Regent, who’s now erratically panting, his hand outstretched as another vine flips through and wraps around Blaze’s throat. Then I realize it’s not all me.
“No!” I claw at Regent’s leg. “No, don’t kill him! Please,” I beg. “Please.”
His eyebrows dip as he looks back at Blaze, who claws at his throat, turning blue in the face. I tug on Regent again, begging him. “He will not stop pursuing us,” Regent sluggishly barks out.
“I know,” I whisper. I know more than anyone Blaze’s determination when hunting. “This isn’t him,” my voice breaks. Whatever Dahlia’s done to him, she’s defiled his mind. Regent’s arm bleeds onto my hand as I tug at him again. “Please.”
His jaw clenches as he pulls me up by the hand and into his lap.
The vine drops from Blaze’s throat, and he keels forward, gasping with his hands still bound and mud plastered half way up to his knees.
Men begin to yell in the distance, curious about the commotion coming from the barn, and Regent’s face twists into its masked horror.
He turns the reins on his mare, and we gallop back into the torrential rain.
Regent’s arm bleeds all over my coat as I take control of the reins as best as I can, awkwardly hooking an arm around his side. I’ve never been on the back of a horse, yet his mare seems to know exactly what to do and where to take us.
We head back toward the mountains, and I keep looking over my shoulder, ensuring we’re not being followed. I stretch my invisible chains to a safe distance around us, using them as a web to detect if any beast or magic user is close.
The rain pelts against my face, my heart pounding with the adrenaline of getting Regent somewhere safe.
I know how Blaze’s poison works, and it’s impressive that the earth greer is even still alive, let alone conscious, especially after taking three darts to the torso.
I look back down at his arm that loosely wraps around my waist and bleeds with the ink-like poison.
I can smell it from here, oozing out of him.
“Katarina,” Regent moans.
Who is Katarina?
“Stop!” I pull back the reins as an abandoned cottage appears at the base of the mountain. When Reene comes to a stop, I awkwardly jump out of Regent’s loose grasp and hit the muddy ground hard as I tug him down.
“Come on, Regent, stay with me.” He quickly tumbles to the side, and I brace myself, catching him, my knees buckling beneath his weight.
“Fuck me, why are you so heavy,” I grit out as I drag his six-foot-seven body.
He can barely walk as I barge shoulder first through the wooden door and into the dark cottage.
Moss and mold overtake most of what’s left of the place.
In the corner, a single bed with a shredded mattress remains.
In the middle, a pot hangs over a stone circle that once held a fire.
A decaying benchtop sits on the other side of the room with an assortment of bottles scattered atop it, as if whoever once lived here left in a hurry.
His mare follows us in, and it saves me having to try and keep an eye on her outside as well. If I let anything happen to that horse, I know he’d fucking kill me for it.
I throw him onto the bed, quickly moving to the long benchtop that looks like it was once a kitchen of sorts.
I squint, trying to look through the discarded bottles of herbs.
“Come on, come on.” I desperately pray for the herbs I need.
“Grimace, I need whatever herbs you have on you.” I can hear him hock over my shoulder as I look back at Regent, who can barely keep his head upright, sweat beading on his forehead.
Fuck, this is bad.
Reene whinnies and nudges at his face, concerned.
I fall to my hands and knees, scouring through the herbs and bottles Grimace spat up. Fuck I only have three of the four. Okay.
Regent groans again, and his hand limply hits the floor.
Fuck, I need to stop the bleeding.
I heave his heavy body as I awkwardly shuffle him out of his leather coat.
I freeze when I see the scarring and integrated blue-hued tattoos that look like growing vines with thorns.
My eyebrows furrow as I stare at the scars and markings covering his arms and neck; they look very similar to a beast’s contract.
“Neina,” he grits with disdain.
Fuck, that’s not good, he’s praying to the gods. I take off his shirt, sucking in a breath to only reveal more markings and scars on top of an incredibly lean and muscular stomach, chest, and back.
I twist his shirt and wrap it around the top of his arm, trying to stop the blood flow. The wound to his shoulder isn’t so bad, but the one dragged down his arm is problematic. I click my fingers at Grimace. “I need that potion Selena gave me for the wound. We need to close this.”
Grimace speaks impatient gibberish but hocks up a bottle. I squint at it in the dark. “No, not that one, that’s for a hangover. The other one.”
He seems displeased with my tone, but hocks up another bottle that rattles and spins as it hits the floor.
“Okay, this is not going to go down well.” I jump on top of Regent, straddling him at the waist and pressing my boot on top of his wrist while leaning my weight into him. He groans and murmurs as I press my elbow down on his throat. “Don’t you fucking kill me for this.”
I grab the cork of the bottle with my teeth and spit it across the room.
Then I begin to pour the purple liquid over his arm.
It sizzles, the smell of burning flesh immediately filling my nose.
He bucks under me, his strength fighting against mine, but I hold firm with my knee and elbow, trying to force my weight against his.
The sizzling stops, a light purple hue illuminating as it bubbles away into what will most likely be a jagged scar.
His body goes limp, and I check his forehead. Fuck, he’s burning up. I throw his leather coat back over him and walk toward the door, but his hand catches my wrist. Even when not conscious, the big oaf fights. But I need to find something to replace the ingredient I need to create the antidote.
“I’ll be back,” I tell him as I pry his hand from around my wrist. “Look after him,” I command Grimace, whose eyes grow wider as if to say, What the fuck do you want me to do?
But I’m moving, flinging the door open and running into the pelting rain, without any idea what vegetation grows here.
At the very least, I swear I’ll find a supplement.
I must be out of my fucking mind to save my captor.
And yet, my heart races as if I can feel the gentle dimming of his life-force slipping away, and I’ve never moved faster in my life.