Chapter 8
When Audra woke again, she’d been moved.
She was in a vast room filled with rows of stacked beds secured to the floor.
Warily, she peeked over the edge of her own bed, revealing that she was on the bottom of one of the three-tiered bunks.
The mattress beneath her was thin, padded sparingly with hay.
The thought of some unknown person moving her made her gag, and with the motion of the ship—for she knew immediately that she was no longer on the smaller boat—Audra leaned over the edge of the bed and vomited.
Or she would have, if there had been anything to expel.
Her body racked painfully as she heaved. When at last her panting stopped, she wiped at her watering eyes and surveyed the room, her vision blurry.
Audra wasn’t alone.
The ship was filled with people. As her vision cleared, she studied their ears, their proportions—all looked human. All looked about her age.
Some were unconscious, with crusty head wounds and stains on their mattresses from where they’d shed blood.
Others were up, their eyes distant and glassy, like they were locked in waking nightmares.
One woman was screaming, clawing at the wall of the ship, her fingernails cracked and bleeding, as if through sheer will, she could peel apart the wooden hull of the ship, and—what? Swim home?
Audra wondered if anyone knew how long they’d been at sea, but she couldn’t find the energy to inquire.
Whatever they’d dosed her with persisted.
And she wasn’t the only one still under the effects of the elixir.
Those who weren’t still sleeping, screaming, or clawing at the walls looked the same as she felt: lethargic and groggy.
Audra heaved herself up and scooted backward, panting with the effort. Her body felt heavy, her muscles weak. She leaned back against the wall behind her.
Swallowing, she winced. Her throat burned.
She studied their faces, praying she would not see any familiar to her. All were strangers. Again, tears clouded Audra’s vision, blurring the horror around her. She covered her mouth, stifling her sobs.
She couldn’t keep her head raised any longer. She slumped, letting the draught drag her under, anything to block out the screams and the memory of the sound of the wolf cracking the bones in her father’s skull.
Audra’s eyes flew open.
Forgotten gods, her mouth was as dry as the Davell desert. Thankfully, her limbs no longer felt heavy, and her thoughts no longer drifted like a lazy morning fog.
Though it still took her a moment too long to realize why she had awakened.
Someone was shaking her shoulder.
She sat all the way up, flinching away so swiftly her shoulder blade smarted when it hit the wall behind her.
For a moment, she was sure it was the fae from the inn. The one with the cruel eyes and lust for violence, back to finish the job. Vrenn.
But it wasn’t anyone fae.
A human crouched beside her bunk, holding a ladle full of water.
A bucket sat on the floor beside her. Audra’s eyes snagged on a deep gash on her left brow and a swollen cut on her full lower lip.
A pair of beautiful yet haunted eyes looked at her; Audra imagined they were mirrors of her own.
Her fingers itched to … But she stopped herself from reaching for the ladle.
What if she was dosed with a sleeping tonic again?
She would be helpless and vulnerable.
And possibly moved again without her knowledge.
“No, I’ll pass,” she said, her voice a frog’s croak. Forgotten gods, her mouth was dryer than the Davell desert. Hoping to wet them, she licked her lips futilely. Audra’s gaze tripped back and forth between the hand holding the ladle of water she so desperately wanted, and her eyes.
They were sharp. Clear. The bottomless brown of her irises swirled with streaks of amber.
“It’s pure water, unpolluted.” Her voice was deep and raspy.
Audra liked it immediately. She waved a hand toward the others.
“We’ve all had some.” Audra heard the ring of truth, and that was all she needed; she grabbed the ladle so fast that she accidentally knocked it into the waterbearer’s bruised knuckles and gulped the water down.
She closed her eyes in satisfaction.
“Sorry,” Audra said as she handed the ladle back.
She opened her mouth to request another sip, but the waterbearer had already deposited the ladle back into the bucket and moved on.
Shaking that person awake. Offering them lifesaving water.
Deep brown locks swayed down her back, the tips of which brushed the edges of a sword belt.
Audra noticed it had a sheath for a dagger and a loop for a sword.
But of course, both hung empty. No doubt all weapons were confiscated by the fae upon capture.
At least while Audra slept, the incessant screaming that she’d heard earlier had ceased.
Should she be relieved or worried that her bunkmates had apparently given up on escape?
Lit oil lamps placed intermittently in sconces along the walls illuminated a few people conversing quietly.
The only one moving, though, was the woman with the water bucket.
click click click
Audra wasn’t the only captive to startle as the sound of three heavy locks being turned echoed throughout the room.
The door swung open, and two people were dumped unceremoniously inside by fae guards who kept to the shadows.
The two humans left in a heap on the floor appeared to be unconscious.
The door slammed shut, and Audra flinched with each turn of the locks.
And that’s when it dawned on her that the ship felt as though it were anchored now—probably outside another unsuspecting port city.
She stood on unsteady legs and picked her way over to the newcomers.
She surveyed them both. The larger one appeared to be male and, like the others, around her age.
No more than twenty-three or twenty-four.
Massive. His muscles had muscles. A thick auburn beard crusted with still-damp blood, scraped knuckles that still bled.
Purple bruises bloomed on his swollen face right before her eyes.
He must have been a beast to take down. She smelled sooty metal, burning coal. His thick leather apron was that of a blacksmith. This was someone with a business. Maybe a family.
She prayed he did not see them cut down before his capture. She hoped he beat some of the fae bloody.
The other human, crumpled in a heap beside the smith, resembled a porcelain doll.
Her complexion looked brittle and paper-thin, the blue of her veins prominent rivers beneath her skin.
She had the same coloring, fiery hair, and constellations of freckles as the blacksmith.
Siblings, perhaps. She tucked this information aside; maybe it was a piece to this depraved puzzle.
The redhead was slight enough for Audra to move on her own, so she placed her hands beneath her arms carefully, just in case there were any injuries she couldn’t see, and dragged her backward until she was clear of the door.
The redhead whimpered in her sleep, the exhalation exuding a sweet, cloying fragrance. The same floral smell had accompanied the priestess when she brought her the sleeping elixir. If only Audra had been alerted to the scent.
Well, she had it logged now.
The blacksmith’s scent was the same, though the metallic tang from his blood and the forge on him outweighed the saccharine scent of the tonic.
She placed her hands in the same spot beneath his arms and heaved, but he was huge, at least a head and a half taller than she, and his hulking form barely shifted an inch.
Audra uttered a curse and looked around, hoping someone would offer to help. Her eyes locked onto smoky black ones. A man stood just across the way, lodged between two bunks.
His posture was proud, his build slender as a weed.
His skin was a warm umber, and silken brown waves brushed manicured brows, framed arrogant eyes.
His clothes weren’t like Audra’s or the man’s in her arms. His shirt was the color of fresh cream and shone like silk.
His vest had a vibrant floral pattern, stitched by someone with remarkable skill, enough that their services would come only with an outrageous price ticket.
His pants were tailored to fit his slim hips and long legs like a glove.
Cuff links on his sleeves glinted even in the low light as his long fingers twisted a set of golden bangles on his wrist. He sported no bruises, no blood.
A noble.
And yet the king hadn’t protected him either. He was still locked in this place with them.
The noble appraised her with a raised brow and a frown before closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the wall. She watched as his throat bobbed as he swallowed with a grimace. The dismissal was clear. Too high-and-mighty to help, then.
She was just about to ask the person to her left, who was staring into the distance in a daze, when the waterbearer from before appeared at her side with a now empty bucket.
“Need some help?”
“Thank you. This one is a blacksmith or something. Impossible to move.”
Now that Audra was standing up, she realized this woman was tall. Audra’s eyeline was even with her proud jaw. And she was strong too: Beneath her sleeveless black tunic were clearly defined muscles. Her boots were army-issued. Was she a soldier?
They weren’t just capturing civilians, then. Another piece of the puzzle. How much must she collect before all the pieces fit together to reveal the bigger picture?
“You take one arm, I’ll take the other. Where do you want to move him?”
Audra tilted her head toward the unconscious redhead a few yards from them. “I was just going to move him beside her. They were dropped in together. I think she might be his sister.”
“Oh, they do look related,” Waterbearer said quietly, more to herself than to Audra, and a gleam alighted in her eyes. Like she had just figured out a clue. Before Audra could ask, Waterbearer said, “Okay, on three.”