2. Chapter 2 #2
He shrugs at that, not bothering to give me a second glance.
“What’s your name?”
We break through the last line of trees, stopping near a frozen stream. He finally releases my arm, stepping back as his eyes roam over me, assessing.
I’m sure I look pitiful. Do I care?
Absolutely not.
As I figured he would, he ignores the question, instead saying, “I can sense that you have magic. Some might call it my ... special talent.”
He says the last part smugly, and it makes me want to kick him in the shin. So he’s an arrogant bastard. Noted.
I look up at him, not bothering to hide my discontent as he goes on.
“It just so happens that you possess the exact kind the King has been searching for. I felt it back there, and I’m sure one of his Acolytes did too.”
I glare at him, placing a hand stubbornly on my hip. “Thank you for the excess of information. You still didn’t answer my question, though. It’s almost as if you purposely avoided it.”
He brushes my remark off with a smirk, leaning closer as he speaks.
“Now why would I tell you any of my business? All you need to know is that I’m saving your life right now.”
I stiffen indignantly and throw my hood back, running my fingers through my unruly curls. After battling wind, frost, and running from murderous guards, I’m sure my looks are hardly flattering.
“Never mind, don’t tell me anything,” I say smartly, walking ahead of him. “The King will kill me anyway, so I suppose it is irrelevant. Let’s get on with it.”
I want to put as much distance as possible between myself and the guards before slipping away from him.
“No.” His voice settles somewhere between a rumble and a growl, sending warmth creeping up my neck.
I snap my attention back to his words as heat floods my cheeks. The audacity. I can save myself!
“The king will keep you. You are rare indeed, and the king loves rare things.” His gaze drifts slowly over me, lingering just long enough to leave me painfully aware of every inch of myself.
A sly grin tugs at the corner of his mouth.
“Especially beautiful ones. Tell me, does your silver hair come from your mother or your father?”
Is he seriously flirting with me right now?
My stomach twists. I have never been a self-conscious person, but under his scrutiny I suddenly become aware of every loose curl, the wrinkles in my cloak, even the smudge of dirt clinging to my boots.
“That’s none of your business,” I scoff, hoping he can feel my annoyance. “And I’m not a pretty little pet to be kept.”
I try not to let his words get to me. I try even harder not to let the intensity of his stare unsettle me. Yes, I’m sure I look a mess. Drawing on an excessive amount of magic to bring someone back from the brink of death does that to a person.
“Well, sweetheart,” he says slowly, turning away as torches flicker in the distance, “it doesn’t really seem like you have a lot of options at the moment. You can come with me, to safety, or you can let them … ” he waves his hand in the direction of the guards, “ … do what they will with you.”
I stare at him as my chest rises and falls rapidly. I don’t know the man’s name, but I know his words have hit a nerve and I’m out of niceties for the day.
I now know two things. The king wants my magic, and he believes that I’m something to possess. I have spent my entire life hiding and would like to remain a nobody, but it’s becoming increasingly difficult when the king is actively hunting me like an animal.
A shout carries over the wind, closer now than it was before.
The man’s expression sharpens as he walks ahead of me.
“We need to move. Quickly now.” A sense of urgency overwhelms me and I’m starting to believe he’s right.
I don’t have a choice. Who is the biggest threat to me right now?
I don’t have to think for long because I already know the answer. The Acolytes.
He catches my elbow again, not as roughly as before, but firmly enough to make it clear I need to follow him. I don’t protest, partly because self-preservation is a strong motivator, and I have nowhere else to go.
He leads me deeper into the forest without another word. I stumble on the uneven ground, catching myself against a trunk when he throws an arm out to steady me. I jerk away immediately, shooting daggers with my eyes and hoping the message is clear: I will rip your ass in half if you touch me again.
“I said I can manage on my own,” I snap, because I’ve just about had it with this day. Straightening my dress, I steady myself and follow closely behind him. Why the hell am I trudging through the forest in a dress?
“I bet you can,” he says, eyeing me skeptically. “Keep low,” he orders, ducking beneath a tangle of branches. “And for the love of the gods, cover your hair. Do you want to be caught? Your hair is practically a beacon.”
“What if I do?” I mutter, pulling my hood over my head. My hair has always been a topic of discussion, mainly because no one in Elvora has silver hair.
“Then you die,” he says simply. “Or become a prisoner. Your pick, honestly.”
He starts moving again without a word. A shout erupts somewhere behind us and we both freeze.
For one terrible second, I’m certain they’ve found us.
My hand goes to a pocket sewn into my dress where I keep another small pocket blade, prepared to defend myself.
Then the sound fades deeper into the woods.
I let out a sigh of relief. They haven’t found us. Not yet, at least.
I quicken my steps, trying to keep up with this sarcastic giant.
“Tell me, stranger, how did you know those guards were looking for me?”
“You are the only magic I sensed while passing through the area, so logically,” he glances down at me, “one plus one equals two.”
I roll my eyes, but something about his answer raises a red flag. I know Acolytes have to be close to sense magic. Yet somehow he sensed mine while merely passing through. Interesting.
“From the rumors I have heard, those guards believe you belong to the King,” he continues.
“They are saying he has been looking for someone who fits your description. You know … the silver hair,” he makes a circle motion around his head for emphasis, “it could only have been you. People in Elvora … ”
“Don’t have silver hair. I know.” I finish as my stomach sinks. Someone from the village must’ve sold me out. I'd bet my life someone did. I only hope it wasn’t someone I helped. That betrayal would sting.
“Wait.” I slow my pace, eyeing him suspiciously. “How do you know so much about what the king wants?”
“I know many things about many people.”
“How informative.”
“One of my better qualities.”
“I can think of several qualities you seem to be lacking. I haven’t seen a good one yet.”
His mouth twitches. Progress. Maybe he will finally tell me something.
“As I said,” he continues, “your magic is impossible to miss. My business, however, is none of yours.”
“Ah, so mysterious. You’re a delight, do you know that?”
“And you are annoying.” His expression remains infuriatingly calm. “I’m considering turning you over to the guards for your voice alone. It’s grating on my ears.”
I gasp dramatically. “Did you just insult me?”
“Several times.” One corner of his mouth lifts. “Not that bright, are you?”
I stare at him. The man doesn't even have the decency to look ashamed. I huff and continue walking.
A moment later, his earlier words catch up to me.
“Wait.” I glance at him. “What was that business about belonging to the king?” I scoff. “I belong to no one. Especially not that vile monster.”
“No?” One dark eyebrow arches.
“NO!”
“He seems to disagree.”
“Well, he can die disappointed.”