26. Lina
Lina
I leave the dressmaker, feeling like a completely different person. My skin is smooth and lighter. My clothes are as soft as a rabbit. My hair is still wet, but the curls are smooth and bouncy in a way I wasn’t sure they ever could have become.
I don’t jump at every shadow and flinch around every bend, even though the anxiety of meeting with the priestesses is swirling around in my body. Helena has taken good care of me now, and I’m getting a better sense of my surroundings.
The trek from the dressmaker back to our quarter is much longer than I expect it to be. Much like my walk with my Dread to my new prison cell, I am lost before long.
I did get a little bit of sense of things last night, but I have no idea where we are now.
As much as I’ve been feeling more confident in these halls with Helena, when I see the silhouette of a man in the shadows ahead, I suck in a breath and freeze mid-step.
Helena doesn’t seem to notice my reaction, though, and continues her joyous pace.
“Rickter! Blessings!” she calls.
“Helena.” He greets her with a sharp nod. “You have a new charge?”
“Yes!” She turns only to realize I am not directly behind her. She frowns at me and waves me forward. “Come on, then.”
The man flicks a brow.
“Shy as a mouse, this one,” she says to the guard.
“Aren’t they always in the beginning?” Though his words are kind enough, the man’s sharp eyes linger too long on my body. My nostril’s flare with my unease, but I hide everything else. “Personally, I’ve always enjoyed the shy ones?—”
A hand is suddenly at the man’s throat, shoving him against the wall. “Watch those lingering eyes, Rickter.”
Rickter sputters and squirms against the wall, eyes wide in fear. “I’m sorry,” he stammers outs. “I didn’t mean anything?—”
My Dread releases the guard’s throat and straightens his jacket. His face is again covered with black cloth that conceals all but his harsh eyes. He stares at me, his lazy gaze slowly sliding down my body.
“Did the dressmaker run out of fabric?” he spits.
“You don’t like it?” Helena stumbles over her words, stepping forward to come between us. “We can get something different!”
His jaw shifts beneath the cloth. “There is no reason for her stomach to be exposed. It is too cold. And I do not like men leering at what is mine.”
“Yes, yes, of course!” Helena nods rapidly. “I can go back and?—”
“It will do for now,” he says, rolling his shoulders. His hard, uncaring eyes remain on my stomach. I don’t like that he refuses to look me in the eyes.
I cross my arms.
He doesn’t seem to notice my annoyance. “Come,” he tells me then turns on his heel and marches away.
I scoff. Does he really expect me to be okay with being treated like a dog?
“Go,” Helena shoos me toward him. “It is better to obey.”
My Dread stops when he realizes I am not following, but he does not turn. Instead, he waits, his back still to me.
I take in a long breath but finally decide if I wanted to die quickly, I would have leapt from the dressmaker’s window. My defiance must live in the shadows. Better to keep eyes off of me by appearing as a non-threat.
So, I wipe the annoyance off my face and scamper forward. My Dread restarts his walk the moment I’m moving toward him. His sense of hearing must be exceptional. I make note of that for the future.
Though he has not seemed to pay me much mind so far, he is clearly more invested than I anticipated, so I don’t know what to expect from him. Maybe now that I am clean and presentable, he’ll—I swallow. Maybe he will not leave me alone tonight.
Is that the cost I must pay for the luxury? And is that really worth it to the Drahkita here? Or like me, did they have no real choice?
“The sanctum is far,” he tells me. “Keep up.”
His long strides require multiple steps for me to match his pace.
I again try to focus on my surroundings.
The rushing sound of the cascade is muted but present and remains at the same level for several minutes, but we are no longer in the same corridor as our den or the community room.
The tunnel is wider here, the ceiling higher.
Are we on the other side of the cascades?
Or just a separate walkway that passes between?
Soon, the floor of the tunnel slopes up, up, up. And my lungs struggle.
My knees begin to tremble.
I shouldn’t be this weak. I can’t be. I must be stronger than this or else, how can I ever expect to escape from this fortress? I will have to flee from the warriors and their beasts for miles and miles.
Reality slams into my gut until I am heaving in desperate breaths. Panic, dark and unending, suffocates me. I can’t do this. I’m not strong enough for this.
Next thing I know, I’m on my knees, unable to get enough air to my lungs.
“What’s wrong?” he barks.
I whimper at the sound of his rough voice. I’m trapped, is what I want to say. I’m not strong enough for this. I can’t just give up—I can’t, but…
His coarse hand grips my upper arm and jerks so that I’m forced to look at him. Shock replaces the panic, but the fear is still just as sharp.
“Tell me what is wrong,” he demands.
Is he angry? He sounds angry.
I can’t tell him what is wrong. I can’t tell him I planned to escape but realized I’m not strong enough for it. “I don’t know how to do this.” I force those words out. They’re true enough. Innocent enough. It’ll have to do.
He watches me, studies me like I’m a creature he doesn’t yet understand. And then, his arms are around me, and I am off the ground.
I recoil, thrashing in his arms, but he holds me tight, and soon, we are moving again. I’m back in that moment when he took me. Threw me over his shoulder like a sack of meat—an already butchered pig ready to be cooked on the pyre.
“Calm down, Lina.”
I blink, shocked at his use of my name. That isn’t what he’d called me before. Rat or mouse or dove. Prey animals. Weak, fearful things only good for eating.
My heart still beats faster than a bunny’s, but I realize I am swaying gently in his arms. I am not thrown over his shoulder like before. He is cradling me like a child.
It’s almost as horrifying if only because it feels so gentle.
I breathe deeply, and I realize the scent of decay is absent. Is that because he bathed today too?
The masks make it hard for me to keep track of who is who. Is he perhaps not the Dread that hunted me down and wrangled me like a hog?
Slowly, despite my discomfort of being treated like an infant, my heart begins to slow and my breathing evens out. “You’re safe,” he tells me. “As safe as you can be here.”
Does that have any meaning at all? I don’t ask.
The warmth of his chest, the tightness of his arms, and the rhythmic swaying as he walks, lulls me into a sense of ease, and my body begins to relax.
After a few minutes, he sets me gently on my feet, arms around my waist until I’m holding my own weight.
“You’ll get stronger with time,” he says. “Your body is weak from malnutrition.”
I stumble a step away from him, unwilling to acknowledge the potential kindness in those words.
“What are we doing?” I ask, looking down at my feet. Clean toes in golden sandals.
“Are you cold?”
“No.” Because of the warmth he just leant me, but I won’t tell him that.
“It is not a small thing, to be accepted into the community fully. You are… in a testing phase.”
“Test?” I whisper, finally daring to look up at him. His eyes are softer than I expect.
“You needn’t worry about failing, as long as you are willing to play their game.”
I bite the inside of my lip. He steps forward and places his finger under my chin, lifting gently until I meet his eye once more. “Do you remember what I told you last night?” His voice is hushed but firm. Almost like the tone of one lover to another.
My stomach twists. Why did I think that? He is anything but a lover, no matter what he’ll expect from me later.
“Defiance leads to death,” he tells me. “Do you choose death?” It sounds like an honest question rather than a threat.
I shake my head, frozen in his sight.
“Good girl.”