Chapter 51 #2
“Then give away your fucking horses too!” Adrian shouts, whirling toward him.
His red-rimmed eyes flash, his hair sticking in odd directions with straws of hay poking out.
He looks a bit…deranged. “You all are capable of walking, are you not? Give your horses to someone who deserves it.” Adrian starts back toward the open double doors and adds, “You fucking lot certainly don’t. ”
He disappears from the barn, leaving the guards all looking at each other as if they can’t process what he just said.
Finally, Michael grits out, “You heard him.” Then he turns to us and says roughly, “Time to go.”
When he takes a step toward us, I instantly mirror the movement, my chin lifted and eyes blazing. I’m on edge, exhausted from lack of sleep and fueled by adrenaline alone.
He must see something in my eyes, because he doesn’t come closer. “Out you go.” He gestures to the door and shuffles aside.
The guards remain parted down the middle, and we begin to walk. Their eyes linger on my throat, on the collar shackled there, as we pass.
Graylen is at my side, his gaze fixed ahead.
Moros knows we’re coming now. He’s had time to prepare, time to spin whatever story it is that he’s concocted. I still don’t know if Adrian is fully on our side—if he’ll believe what his uncle has to say or if he’ll see through his lies.
As we leave Wisebech behind us, walking the road back to the castle, I ignore the whispers under the breaths of the soldiers.
I can’t stop thinking about what Adrian said, his demand that the guards give their steeds away to people in Wisebech. It almost feels as if there’s still some good left in him, like seeing his kingdom not as a king, but as a subject, giving him a different perspective.
Maybe it did.
“Penyth whore,” whispers a soldier from behind us. “Spreading your legs so the king doesn’t see who you are.”
I clench my teeth as someone answers him, saying, “Think she’ll spread those legs for me too?”
Adrian must not have heard, because he looks out at the trees, lost in thought.
But I certainly did, and if I did, then so did Graylen.
Shit.
I spin around just as the gurgling noise begins. Graylen already has a man—whom I presume is the one who asked the question—by the throat, his feet dangling slightly above the ground.
“What’s that?” Graylen huffs a laugh, his voice a low rumble. “Couldn’t hear you.”
So much for sticking to the plan.
Everything happens at once. The men begin shouting, their swords drawn, before Adrian can even turn around to figure out what’s going on.
Graylen’s back is to me, so he doesn’t see Michael yank me by the arm.
I’m thrust backward, the shouting from the men swallowing the scream of frustration I let out. I throw my elbow into his ribcage, a soft umph coming from behind me as his hold loosens.
“Get your fucking hands off of her,” Adrian snaps.
That finally catches Graylen’s attention. He drops the man, the soldier’s face nearly purple as he falls to the ground in a heap, coughing and sputtering strings of curses at Graylen.
Graylen’s surrounded by guards, but the moment his eyes land on me, I give him a small and frantic shake of my head. He doesn’t use his magic. Not yet. Not until we have no other choice.
The arm around me instantly falls away, and I reach for my dagger, spinning toward Michael.
“Your Majesty, get back.” Michael lifts his sword, his gaze bouncing from my dagger to my face.
“She isn’t dangerous,” Adrian hisses.
My head turns to him, and I quirk a brow. She is very much dangerous.
Adrian catches my stare and huffs, “She wasn’t a danger until you provoked her, Captain.”
His face reddens, and I cringe. Our plan of coming in peace lasted all of two minutes.
“I can’t just stand by and watch her walk into our sacred castle!
” Michael spews, spit flying from his mouth as he takes a lurching step toward me.
He points his sword, the tip a hair away from my nose.
But I don’t flinch back like he wants me to.
“This vile woman corrupting our land cannot enter a place such as—”
Michael’s voice cuts off as something blurs past me, knocking him away, his words turning into screams of agony. Adrian gasps across from me, and a familiar arm snakes around my waist, pulling me back.
“A wolf,” cries one of the soldiers, their swords turning toward a new enemy.
Graylen pulls me back, but I push away from him to get a better look.
Stark-white, fluffy fur partly stained red moves in a blur and jerks side-to-side, the beast’s jaw clamped around the curve where Michael’s shoulder meets his neck.
Giant paws grip the muddied dirt, sending a memory skittering into my mind of perpetually dirty legs and underbelly from running alongside me in the woods.
I know that fur. I know those familiar oversized paws and how soft the spot is just below his snout.
“Dog?” I breathe.
My chest tightens as brilliant crystal blue eyes snap up to me.
More memories crash into me. Training in the camp with Dog by my side, floppy ears and a lolling tongue waiting for me on the porch each morning.
Dog stops thrashing, but his teeth stay attached to Michael—who’s already passed out. Or dead. I can’t be too sure.
Those beautiful eyes stare at me, and a small whimper comes from the back of his throat. It is him. And he’s currently trying to rip the head off of the guard that was about to attack me.
A soldier pushes past me, sword raised.
“Stop!” I scream, flinging my arm out.
The man shoves me aside—or attempts to, because the moment his hand connects to my arm, a toe-curling growl stops him. I don’t have to look, because I already know what I’m going to find standing in front of us.
Color drains from the soldier’s face as his gaze lowers to where I know Dog is waiting. A terrifying sight from what I imagine, with blood dripping from his jaw and his powerful legs bent in preparation to jump.
My mouth winds into a smirk.
“I think it would be best if you removed your hand, soldier,” Graylen growls. “Unless you want to be next.”
In the blink of an eye, the man releases me and stumbles backward.
Something wet and cold tickles the back of my hand, and I turn to find Dog licking it. His mouth is covered in Michael’s blood, smearing a mixture of it and saliva across my skin.
But I don’t care, not when one of my last friends in Crea is standing in front of me.