CHAPTER 11 #4
I have no idea how many rooms are at the top of the stairs, and I chastise myself for not asking Awri to give me a full tour of her home when I had the chance.
While it is entirely possible there are only two rooms above me, and one is being shared, I won’t be able to sleep until I’ve done a sweep of the ground floor and made sure I know where everyone is sleeping tonight.
I am already uneasy about sharing a wall with the general and having another unaccounted-for body isn’t an option.
Every instinct I have tells me to know where my enemies are.
I open my door as slowly as I can, blessing the stars when the hinges don’t make a sound.
I move into the hall and take six blessedly silent steps before I’m buffeted by a gust of air from the general’s door as it flies open.
It’s obvious he was getting ready for bed, like me he is absent his shoes.
My gaze wanders up from the floor, lingering above his waist. He’s a few buttons short at the top of his tunic, and it’s splayed wide revealing a dangerously chiseled chest that I’d rather have remained oblivious to. I’m not surprised to find the male glaring down at me when my eyes meet his.
“What are you doing?” he manages to somehow bark, even in a hushed whisper.
“I was just going to the kitchen for some water.” The lie slides off my tongue.
“Then why are you sneaking?”
“I am not sneaking. I am trying not to wake everyone up.” I glare back. “It’s called being polite. I’ll explain the concept to you another time.”
He frowns and takes a step into the hall, wrapping his hand around my arm and shuffling me back toward my room. His shoulders are wide enough that he’s effectively created a wall barring me from the rest of the cottage.
“You stay here,” he says, clearly annoyed when he points at my door. “I will bring you a glass of water.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” I whisper, trying to tear my arm from his grasp. “As I must apparently explain myself to you at every turn, I also have to relieve myself, or are you planning on doing that for me as well?”
He stops in his attempt to push me back through the hallway and into my room but makes no move to let me pass.
The line of his jaw tenses and I wonder if he is seriously debating whether he’s going to allow me the privilege.
His eyes narrow and his grip tightens but this time he pulls me out of the hall and toward the bathing chamber next to the kitchen.
He lines me up in front of the door, drops my arm, crosses his own over his chest, and waits.
“You’re just going to stand right outside the door and listen?” I ask.
When he makes no move to answer or step away to grant me my privacy, I puff out my irritation and slip inside, pulling the lever by the sink to give him something to listen to.
I’ve no actual need for this room but I do a quick sweep, nonetheless.
I’m unsurprised to find that it’s empty and the small window by the tub is far too narrow to make for a convenient exit if I should need it.
The moment I step out, the general’s hand clutches my arm in a bruising grip and he’s hauling me right back toward my bedroom. I plant my feet, not that I can stop him unless I plan on breaking his arm.
Tempting.
When he turns to see why I’m resisting him, I just smile sweetly and say, “Water?”
With a sneer, he drags me toward the kitchen, and I wonder if the male is trying to pull my arm out of the socket. He parks me in front of the sink and hands me a glass. I fill it to the brim, take my time sipping it, and fill it once more, his disposition growing darker by the minute.
I have no doubt he will interfere in any further attempts I make at leaving my room this evening, so I decide to make the most of my current freedom. If it can even be called such a thing with my gloomy guard in tow.
My eyes land on the kettle sitting on the countertop among a clean stack of cups.
“You know what I really need? A cup of tea to help me sleep.”
“I’m not making you a cup of tea,” he says through gritted teeth, his patience with my game obviously coming to an end.
“That’s fine. I’ll make it myself.”
I snag the kettle off the counter and turn toward the fireplace. He latches onto my bicep once more, pulls me close so that he’s looking down on me and I can feel the heat of his breath when he growls, “You’ve had your water, now go to your bed before I drag you there.”
He has no idea just how many men I’ve known just like him.
Men who would try to command me, expecting me to cower and jump to meet those demands the second they are uttered.
They are all the same, and I’m sure, just like every other man and male on the face of Terr, his bravado doesn’t run as deeply as he’d like me to think.
I soften my face and look up at him through long, dark lashes, taking a step toward him rather than pulling away as I breathe out in a whisper, “Sorry to disappoint you, General. But that’s one place I’ll never let you drag me.”
His eyes widen and his head reels back as if I’d attempted to strike him. He clenches his jaw so hard I think I can hear his teeth begin to crack under the pressure. Finally, he releases my arm.
A quick glance around the main room tells me there is no one else sleeping downstairs.
Interesting.
I tuck the knowledge away and swing the kettle over the flames before picking Awri’s fea book off the table and falling into a large comfortable chair in front of the fire.
I don’t have to look to know the general is standing in the doorway between the kitchen and the room I now occupy.
A hefty dose of gloomy melodrama is billowing out from that direction.
“Once you’ve had your tea will you go to your room?”
I can’t help but grin at the plea as I flip through the pages before me. “Perhaps,” I say, and the general scoffs at my answer. “I don’t sleep well in strange places.”
I give him that much. It’s an honest answer, though I don’t intend to elaborate.
Without the herbs to keep my demon at bay I’m beginning to seriously consider staying up for the duration of the night.
If any of my new companions witness a single one of my episodes, I will never make it into the king’s presence.
“Fine,” he says.
I turn, shocked he’s allowing it without throwing a fit. By the time my head whips around, he’s already gone. I frown when he emerges from the kitchen with a jar of loose tea in one hand and two cups in the other.
“You’re a guest in my friend’s home. It would be rude of me not to keep you company,” he says.
I hate the taunting quirk at the edge of his lips.
Then again, it isn’t the worst thing to have an opportunity to put the general’s mind at ease about me.
He has made his distrust of me clear since our first encounter at my uncle’s estate.
I’ve begun to wonder if I’ve let my guard down unwittingly and he’s seen glimpses of the Drakai lurking beneath my surface.
Though, given his nature, I suspect he is highly distrusting of everyone upon first meeting them.
Either way, he is just one more obstacle I’ll need to overcome before his king returns.
I settle into my chair and flip to the next page. The crone stares back at me.
“You’re frowning,” he says, his voice gravelly with want of sleep.
“I’m not,” I say.
He puffs out his disbelief and I school my features, softening the fine lines that pinch my brow when I ask, “Have you ever seen her?”
He leans over to look at the page. “Happily not. I hope I’ll never need anything so desperately that she seeks me out.”
“I wouldn’t wish that type of need on anyone,” I tell him.
It’s true, I wouldn’t. Not even on him. It’s the memory I hate reliving more than any other.
Even after all these years, the fear and helplessness of that day are too potent and easy to recall.
Like a wound that will never fully heal.
Easy to forget at times, easy to learn to live with, but all it takes is a small jab in the right place to be reminded of what I nearly lost.
I startle when the kettle whistles. The general pulls it from the fire, pours two cups of hot tea and hands me one, before taking a seat in the chair beside me.
“Thank you,” I say.
He only hums under his breath and blows on the steam rising from his cup as he stares into the fire.
Thunder continues to roll overhead, lightning imbuing the night with its flickering arcs.
A thick sheet of rain batters the roof and windows, obscuring the view outside, until all that can be seen is the bright, blurry globe of the moon hanging in the night sky as it breaks from the clouds.
“What did you bargain for?” His voice comes out in little more than a whisper and my eyes dart to the ceiling, remembering our sleeping companions overhead.
The memory feels private. Something I’ve only ever shared with one other soul. But maybe I can give a small sliver of my story to the general as an offering of peace. Perhaps a small bit of truth will put him at ease.
“I bargained for a life,” I say quietly.
“No small request.” He ponders my answer as he takes a sip of steaming tea. “What did Bagya ask for in return?”
“I don’t know,” I admit.
His eyebrows shoot up. It’s not the most handsome face the male has ever worn but I’ll take it over his brooding frowns.
“You gave her a future favor?” he guesses.
“No. She took something, I’m just not sure what it was. She wasn’t particularly clear in her request, and I lacked the time it would have taken to ask the right questions.”
Though what I would have asked her I still ponder to this day.
He hums and continues sipping his tea. I take a careful drink of the steamy beverage and when my tongue is met with the most deliciously sweet combination of herbs and spice, I pull in a few more greedy mouthfuls. The male certainly knows how to make a cup of tea.
“She didn’t tell you what she wanted?” he asks.
I shrug as if it was nothing, but I’ve replayed that moment in my mind thousands of times, desperate to understand what the female took from me.
“She said the price was a piece of the lie. I was young,” I say, worried he will call me a fool for giving up something I still don’t understand, “and desperate, and I only thought to ask if it would harm me. The moment she said it wouldn’t, I agreed and that was it.”
His face converts back to its typical glower, only this time I’m relieved when it’s directed at the fire. Even the flames seem to shrink a little under his gaze.
The crackle within the hearth melds with the patter of rain overhead, lulling me into a sleepy haze. The moment my eyes slip shut I snap them open again, giving myself a shake as I stifle a yawn.
Unbidden, the general remarks, “Trust me when I say you should never strike a bargain with a fea. The price will always be far too high.”
“You’re wrong,” I say, and he turns to look at me speculatively. “Sshhe could have asked me for anything, and I would have given it to her. Even now, in that sssame moment, I would do it again.”
Did I just slur?
“If you truly feel that way,” he says as he puts down his cup and stands to look down on me, “it’s only because you haven’t begun to understand what you traded for that life.”
I want to argue but I’ve forgotten how to use my tongue. My neck suddenly refuses to support the weight of my head as it lolls back against the chair, and then, there is nothing but the void.