Chapter 30
The next three days pass without incident.
Caene and I talk about everything and nothing.
Our equally dismal upbringings, our favorite teas—or coffee in my case—what we would do if the world weren’t the way it is, how we would live our lives, what we would do with our time; he said he would probably be a blacksmith, while I would be a healer.
But neither of us broached the subject of our kiss.
I don’t know what to think anymore. It’s been a while since I saw him as my enemy, and he’s proven that he won’t betray me to his family.
He has earned my trust and that fact is terrifying.
Even worse, I can feel myself falling for him.
Everything I see and learn about him calls to me.
This is more than mere attraction. But the thought of his father, the memory of my vision, of Isi’s head and body going in separate directions, reminds me of the reality of our situation like an ice bath.
I’ve seen Caene’s savagery, his violence, and the way his house shaped him firsthand with what he did to Bayo.
But, in truth, he did that for me. All these mental somersaults are twisting my insides.
I don’t want to think anymore. I just know I want his lips back on mine.
I want to see his savagery come out in a different way.
I want to see him undone by me and out of control.
Each night we take turns keeping watch while the other sleeps.
The Horde patrols the road at night, hoping to catch weary travelers off guard, and since we killed some of their own and left a witness they will be looking for us.
Not that I regret letting that poor girl live.
She didn’t deserve the same fate as her companions.
We sleep in the forest as far as Bazil is willing to go.
The poor horse doesn’t get much rest within the confines of the trees but at least we’re hidden in the fog.
It’s my shift to guard. Caene sleeps peacefully on the other side of the dying fire.
His gentle snores are somehow soothing, and my eyelids are heavy.
I shake myself, trying to keep my eyes open just a little longer.
We should have switched about an hour ago, but Caene deserves to rest; he’s been watching over me for days while I recuperated.
It’s my turn now. I can push through my exhaustion for a while longer.
I get up and shake my heavy limbs, trying to get the blood pumping.
I move as silently as possible so I don’t wake up my sleeping giant.
I settle back against my tree and watch him sleep, the light from the embers accentuating his beautiful features. My eyes drift closed.
Only for a moment, I promise myself.
The sound of rattling metal rouses me.
Fuck!
I fell asleep!
I focus on the person standing over me, then on the cool blade of an axe pressed to my throat.
I can’t tell in the darkness if they’re man or woman but I suppose it doesn’t matter.
I’ll kill them either way. I catch Caene’s gaze across from me.
His eyes are wide, confused, like he just woke up a moment ago himself.
A body stands over him in the dark, a blade pressed to his sternum.
The embers of the fire are so low that I can only see Caene’s face in the glow.
I don’t know if he can see mine, but I try to communicate my apology with my eyes all the same. I know I royally fucked this up.
A thick chain whips around the tree I’m leaning against, wrapping around my arms and body, surely leaving bruises as the metal strikes my skin.
I try to thrash against it but the axe cuts deeper into my throat and the chain digs into my skin, pulled tight by someone on the other side of the tree.
Someone strong. The person with the axe kneels and looks me over with a curious expression on her face.
She’s a woman about my age with mousy brown hair and an equally mousy face.
I slowly inch my leg up, trying to get to my dagger without her noticing.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” a deep voice resonates in the fog between the trees. “My friend is very angry with your companion. It seems he killed her husband a few nights ago and I’ve promised her blood.”
The fire flares back to life, bathing us in warmth and light. I look from Caene to the women hovering over us and smile wickedly. He can't be killed. She won’t get her blood.
The deep voice’s body emerges from between the trees to my left.
My breath falters slightly. Aside from Caene, he has to be one of the most attractive men I’ve ever seen.
His sleek midnight hair, tawny skin, and dark eyes shine in the dancing firelight.
Short scruff covers his strong jaw, accentuating it. I can’t help but stare for a moment.
His eyes connect with Caene’s, recognition crawling its way across his handsome face.
“Interesting,” he says, stroking his scruff. He nods to the mousy woman with the axe. She presses the cold metal harder into my throat. I grit my teeth against the pain while hot blood drips down into my coat collar.
Caene growls and leaps to his feet, throwing the woman hovering over him to the ground. She lands with a thud on her back, gasping for breath while Caene squares off with the man beside me.
“Caene—” I try to say around the axe, but the woman cuts me off by shoving it harder into my throat.
Just strike you big idiot! I try to tell said big idiot with my eyes.
“Even more interesting,” the stranger has an edge of amusement in his voice. Caene moves for the sword the winded woman dropped.
The axe begins a slow drag, cutting even deeper into my skin. My cry of pain echoes off the trees around us. Caene freezes.
“Ah, ah, ah,” the man says, coming to stand beside me. “One more move and my friend here will make sure her pretty little head stays tacked to this tree.” He pats the tree. “You can do whatever you want with her body.” He waves his hand like that’s a completely normal thing to offer.
“I’m sorry, my dear.” For a moment I think the man is speaking to me. I try to focus on his words, not the searing agony in my neck, but he’s addressing my mousy little friend. “I’m afraid you won’t be able to avenge your husband. Unfortunately, this man cannot be killed.”
The mouse-faced woman looks from Caene to me, then back again.
Caene’s smirk confirms what the man said.
She screeches, looking down at me, “Maybe I can’t have his head, but I can have hers!
” She rips the axe from my skin, raising it over her head.
I close my eyes, preparing myself for the blow, readying myself to finally meet Death.
I should have taken Caene up on his invulnerability offer.
A grunt, a scuffle, and a loud thwack, then cool steel being pressed back to my throat much more delicately has me peeling my eyes open, hoping the thwack wasn’t my head and my body bisecting.
The mousy woman is hanging from a tree to my right about three feet off the ground with the axe embedded in her shirt above her head.
She’s pulling at the axe trying to free it, but it won’t budge.
A breath shudders from my lungs. My relief is short-lived however, as the strange man now has his sword tucked under my chin.
Annoyance heats my skin. If they would just release me, I would give them a proper fight.
Fucking cowards.
My gaze flicks back and forth between Caene and the stranger. They must know each other if he knows Caene is invulnerable.
“Montbeth,” the stranger says.
“Merula,” Caene says.
Alright, they definitely know each other.
“You’re a long way from your manor.” There’s an edge to the man’s voice.
“Likewise,” Caene rumbles, not taking his eyes off the man. But the man, Merula, looks down at me, catching my eyes. Something flashes in his. “It can’t be.”
“Let her go, Merula.” Caene’s deep voice shudders through the trees. The protectiveness in it has me fighting a smile.
“I can feel it,” Merula whispers. There almost appears to be awe in his voice, underneath the heavy confusion.
“You . . . you’re an Exalted. And a woman.
How . . . how can this be?” His free hand reaches out, brushing my cheek, his eyes wide.
My blood turns to ice. Caene takes another small step toward us.
“Release her!” Merula barks at whoever is holding the chains. The chains fall away. He’s so focused on me that he still hasn’t noticed Caene’s slow movements toward us.
“How is this possible?” He crouches, his gaze boring into me, genuine curiosity swimming behind it. “How do you have gifts in your veins?”
The edge of a blade scrapes as it’s pressed into his abdomen. “Drop the sword, Merula. Now.” Caene’s voice is calm, but I can hear the violence pulsing in it.
As if breaking out of a trance, Merula looks at the weapon in his hand before swiftly dropping it with a dull clank to the forest floor.
Caene eyes him for another moment before lowering his sword and offering his hand.
The two men clasp forearms before embracing each other with wide smiles and laughter.
What the fuck?
“What are you doing with the Horde?” Caene asks. I gape at them from the cold, mossy ground.
Merula shrugs. “It was either them or my father. They seemed like the lesser of the evils. And we prefer the Liberated now. It’s more accurate.” He waves his hand indifferently.
Caene’s deep chuckle sends a shiver through me. “Liberated from what?” he asks.
“From the bullshit of this country. From the classist system designed to keep the poor impoverished while the rich get richer.”
Caene snorts. “That’s ironic, coming from you.”
The mousy woman finally manages to free herself by tearing her shirt. She falls to the ground with a thud, jumps to her feet, and tries to reach her axe, though it’s too high for her. She screeches in frustration.
“Go back to camp,” Merula barks at her. “You are no longer needed here.”