Chapter 20
The smell of charred, roasting meat rouses me from a deep sleep.
The promise of real food causes my heart to flutter with excitement and my stomach to rumble painfully.
Surely I must be dreaming, but if I am, I don’t want to wake.
Still, I crack an eye open. A massive, dark-haired man is kneeling in front of a fire, head down, and what I think is a rabbit is cooking over the flames.
The dim early morning glow from the rising sun through the blanket of fog makes my head throb so I slam my eyelids shut, lifting my hand to rub them, a soft groan escaping my lips.
A rustle causes my eyes to fly open again, the memories of last night whipping through my mind.
The labyrinthine tunnels. The redheaded guard.
The twins. The fear. Caene. The very man who is currently rounding the fire with a knife in his hand.
Alarm bells go off in my head as clearly as the ones in the dungeons.
I scramble away from him, my back connecting to an enormous fir tree. He slows his approach.
“It’s alright,” he says softly. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
I eye him, unconvinced, then eye the blade in his hand.
He looks down at his hand and startles a little like he didn’t realize he was holding it.
He sheaths it at his hip and places a strip of bark I didn’t notice in front of me.
On it is a heaping helping of charred meat.
My mouth waters, but I don’t reach for it.
“You need to eat. We have to get your strength up before we continue. The Elvael Forest isn’t safe for the weak, and I can’t make you invulnerable for long in your state. Your body won’t be able to handle it. It could give out if I give you too much.”
I bristle, indignant. “I am not weak,” I spit. Even I know it’s a lie. Weeks of torture and starvation have forced me to be something I never wanted to be. A liability. I can barely lift my head, let alone protect myself. “And I don’t need your help or your magic.” I seethe over the last word.
I push to my feet, but all the blood rushes from my brain to other parts of my body and the world tilts beneath me, blackness crowding my vision.
My legs give out, but before I can hit the ground Caene is there grabbing me around the waist and pulling me to his sculpted chest. My hands grip his shirt in an attempt to steady the wavering ground.
He feels like stone beneath my hands, his strength grounding me.
I look up and meet his captivating eyes.
He doesn’t pull away, instead his eyes slide to my lips.
The memory of his full lips on mine causes a blush to creep up my neck and into my cheeks. His gaze tracks it.
I stare at him for a beat too long before I remind myself of the reality of my situation.
He’s at fault for everything. He may not have laid a hand on me himself, but I wouldn’t have been there if it weren’t for him.
I shove him away with all the might I can muster, revulsion worming its way through me.
He doesn’t budge. I imagine being pushed by me right now feels like being pushed by a butterfly. Still, he releases me and steps back.
I take the opportunity. I run.
I run as fast as my feet will carry me, through the underbrush, around trees, hoping to disappear into the fog.
I should have known better. Caene’s long legs cover the distance between us so quickly I barely make it fifteen feet before he wraps his strong arms around my waist. I don’t have it in me to fight.
I don’t even have it in me to scream. I go limp.
He bends and lifts me, cradling me to his chest, carrying me back.
He gently places me on the ground within the warm circle around the fire.
I scramble backward again, until I feel a tree and bring my knees to my chest, curling up at its roots.
I can feel the panic clawing through my gut.
I try to fight it. I refuse to show Caene how broken I’ve truly become, but I’m so very tired and so very afraid.
Tears begin to prickle behind my eyes. I reach for my necklace and bring it to my nose.
It does little to help the pressure building in my gut and my chest. I long for the lavender oil my mother used.
The brief thought of my mother makes my heart hurt more.
I feel like I can’t catch my breath. It feels as though a boulder is sitting on my chest, and it’s determined to kill me.
Everything that has happened in the last few weeks comes crashing down.
I close my eyes and try to breathe. Try to get enough air to slow my racing heart.
Breathe in. One, two, three, four, five.
Breathe out. One, two, three, four, five.
I can hear my mother’s voice in my head, guiding me.
I try to follow her words. It doesn’t help this time.
I’m choking on my panic, unable to get a full gulp of air.
Tears start to spill over my eyelashes hard and fast and my breath stutters over my lips as I exhale, my lungs clenching.
My stomach and chest are squeezing so tight, I think I may just die right here.
I claw at my chest and throat, trying to force air down it.
“Hey.” Caene’s soft, deep voice reaches me through the fog in my mind.
“Breathe.” His large body lifts me with ease, and he places me between his legs.
I let him. My back is pressed to his chest, and I claw at his trousers, trying to find some way to get purchase in my panic.
“Breathe with me, Aelavi,” his voice rumbles in my ear.
I can feel his deep baritone vibrate from his chest into my back, the sensation somehow calming.
“In.” I take a shuddering breath in and feel his chest rise with mine. “And out.” I let out an equally shaky breath while he does the same, his breath whispering through my hair.
“In.” The breath I take comes slightly easier.
“And out.” He blows out a breath past my ear.
“In.” His chest pushes against my back. I’m looking for anything to focus on, anything but the pain, the pressure.
“And out.” I now notice his hand is at my abdomen.
As though he’s trying to guide my body into breathing properly.
This is a routine my mother used to use when the world overwhelmed my senses.
We would sit like this for however long it would take for the world to come back into focus, for everything to make sense again.
Finally, when the frenzy settles in my mind and in my chest and I can feel myself relaxing, albeit minimally, it hits me that I let this man comfort me. Again.
Stupid Vayna. So fucking stupid!
I crawl out of his lap as quickly as my exhausted body will take me, putting as much distance between him and me as I can while still feeling the fire’s warmth. Why is he comforting me? Protecting me?
“Stay the fuck away from me,” I grind out through my teeth.
I think I see hurt flicker across his face, but it’s gone so fast I can’t be sure. He sighs and points to the hunk of rabbit meat.
“Eat.” He gets up and tromps through the bushes, leaving me alone in the early morning chill.
A part of me wishes he’d never come back.
A more annoying part hopes that he will.
I crawl back to my tree and the makeshift plate of meat.
I look at it with skepticism, then poke it, then sniff it, the scent nearly turning me feral. What if he poisoned it? Or drugged it?
I shake my head. That makes no sense. If he wanted me dead he’s had ample opportunities.
He wouldn’t have to resort to poison or drugs.
I take a small nibble, still a little hesitant.
The flavor hits my tongue and that starving wild animal inside me has me scarfing down the rest, barely even chewing.
I’ve never liked rabbit but after weeks of disgusting bread, the charred meat tastes like I’ve died and gone to be with the gods.
I sigh, the pangs of hunger slightly subsiding.
The panic and the confusion from this morning have sucked away any energy I woke up with, and the ache in my head is getting worse.
I poke the dying fire with a stick, hoping to get a little more warmth out of it, and curl up against the tree.
Caene’s coat is lying on the forest floor.
I pick it up and wrap it around me. I briefly wonder if he’s cold out in those trees without a coat, away from the fire’s warmth.
I shouldn’t care. I don’t care. I try to stay awake, to stay alert, but the warmth of the fire and the earthy scent on Caene’s coat has me fighting sleep. Fairly quickly, I lose the fight.
One emerald eye. Two green eyes. Pain, shame, fear.
Recognition.
When I wake, Caene is sitting on the other side of the fire from me, whittling.
I can’t see what he’s making, but an intense line of concentration is etched between his dark eyebrows.
He came back. My traitorous little heart leaps a little in my chest. He’s built the fire up more and it bathes me in warmth, making me want to slip under again.
I won’t. I’ve rested enough. I should try to run again but I need answers.
And the hulking man across from me is going to give them to me. I’ll cut them out of him if I have to.
I slowly push myself to sitting, unsure of when I laid down, still feeling drained, feeble, and sore.
I grind my teeth against the sensations.
I haven’t felt this fragile in years, I loathe that I feel this way now.
I glare across at Caene. He sets down his project and looks at me through the roaring flames.
I can’t help but notice the way they reflect in his eyes, turning them into a sparkling emerald.
Something nags at the back of my mind. Some familiarity I can’t place. But now isn’t the time to try and figure it out. There are more important answers I need.
“Why?” I ask. It’s all I can muster without my throat closing up and tears threatening to spring free. Not out of sadness, but out of anger. He doesn’t answer me, though his eyes continue to bore into me. I scowl back at him. I won’t concede. His throat moves in a swallow. He’s uncomfortable.
Good. I hope you never know comfort again, you prick.
“Why!” I yell, my temper flaring.
“I couldn’t let them hurt you,” he replies softly. Rage engulfs me like the fire between us.
“You couldn’t let them hurt me? You were too late! They destroyed me!” I want to take the words back as soon as they slip past my lips. He doesn’t need to know what his godsdamn family did to me, how they’ve affected me.
I try to get my voice and temper under control.
I won’t give him the satisfaction. “You are the reason I was locked up, tortured, starved. Your brothers snatched me off the street right after I left you. You tipped them off. You lied to me. You said I wasn’t who you were looking for.
” My voice is like acid. His face stays infuriatingly blank, revealing nothing about how he’s feeling.
“What I can’t understand is why. Why take me to bed?
Why go through all of that just to have them grab me?
Why not take me while I slept next to you?
Why does your family want me? I’m nothing and nobody!
Condemned!” What little control I had has clearly snapped and my voice is getting higher pitched and louder, all the whys rolling off my tongue in a rush.
“Keep your voice down. Anything can be lurking nearby.”
My jaw drops in disbelief. “That’s all you’re going to say to me? Keep your voice down?” I’m practically screeching now.
“I didn’t know they were going to take you,” he snaps, his patience fraying. “I didn’t know who you were.”
“Who do you think I am? Who do they think I am?” I ask, my eyes narrowing to slits. His throat works another swallow and his fists clench in his lap.
A twig snaps nearby, and both our heads swing in the direction of the noise.
He’s on his feet in an instant, sword singing as he draws it from its sheath on his back.
“Now isn’t the time to have this discussion.
We have to move. My brothers will be searching for us. My father won’t let you go easily.”
My head swivels around, half expecting the twins to come out of the tree line, emerging like wraiths through the fog. Caene starts piling dirt on the fire, snuffing it out completely. I make a mental note to ask why we can have a fire but not make much noise when I’m less angry.
“Can you walk?” he asks, not pausing his task.
Refusing to show him how weary I feel, I grumble and rise to my feet. “Of course I can fucking walk.” I sway and have to grip the tree to stay upright.
He sheathes his sword and comes toward me, hands outstretched, palms up. “Give me your hands. We’ll move much quicker if I give you some of my strength. A little at a time will hopefully be fine.”
I shove my hands in the pockets of Caene’s coat like I’m trying to hide them from him. “No. I’ve already told you. I don’t need your magic.”
I raise my chin in the air and storm past him. I’ll be damned to the abysm if I ever let him touch me again. He lets out an exasperated sigh, his big boots stomping the underbrush as he follows close behind.
I know I’m being stubborn. I know we would move a lot faster and safer if I would just place my hands in his and accept his help.
It would also be useful for my plan. If I had his strength, I would be able to escape.
I could run fast enough that he might not catch me.
I could go back to Otyx’s bordello. I could get Isi and we could find somewhere to hide.
They’d never find us. I’d make sure of it.
The flaw in this plan, however, is this damned forest. The fog is so thick I can only see about six feet around me in all directions.
If I take his offer and use it to run from him, I’ll surely get lost and eaten by a bear or a pack of wolves or something worse.
No. I have to stick with him until we’re out of this place, until I’m strong enough to defend myself, defend Isi, again. Then I’ll make my escape.