Chapter 30
JO
I’ve been kidnapped. Again.
My body aches from being stuck in this unnatural position for so long.
Shackles lock my wrists together, the same at my ankles.
But it’s my hands that hurt the most, the thin rope woven around each finger and across my palms, tying them together in a position of prayer.
It has been sort of helpful while asking the gods to strike Acker down with a giant bolt of lightning since I’ve been in this bed.
The bed I’m chained to, just in case I manage to undo all of my bindings, which truly would require an intervention from the gods.
There’s a knock on the door followed by a silent pause, and I roll my eyes at the idea of anyone attempting to appear polite, given the circumstances. I’m chained to a bed, for gods sake. There’s nothing hospitable about any of this.
The knock comes again.
For fucks’ sake. “Come in!” I yell, begrudgingly.
When Acker’s figure is the one to slip through the door, I sit up. There’s no mistaking his height and stature in the dim cabin. Dark hair, strong shoulders, every inch of him lean muscle.
Neither of us speaks as he closes the door behind him.
Leaning against it, the back of his head lolls against the wooden surface.
Tiny streams of sunlight filter through the gaps between the planks of the ship’s deck, the only bit of light in the otherwise dingy space.
It offers little to see by, though, and shadows shield the expression on his face.
Venom pools at the tip of my tongue, ready to be spat at him, but something holds me back.
Strange, after having nothing better to do for days but fantasize about all the things I would spew at him the moment he finally appeared in front of me.
Now, here he stands, and I can’t seem to muster the energy to say anything at all.
“We need to walk through the town to get to the stables and I need you to behave like an honest prisoner.”
For a brief moment, I’m confused. Then amused, a giggle escaping from my mouth, followed by full-throated laughter. The sound bounces off the cabin walls. It can’t be stopped as tears leak from my eyes, my stomach cramping as I struggle to get myself under control.
After many deep, shuddering breaths, I’m able to wheeze out a few words at last. “Honest prisoner? Compared … compared to what?” I hold up my wrists, and it sucks all the humor from my voice, my tone turning steely in the blink of an eye. “This?”
He strides forward, a beam of light scorching across his face for a split second as he moves toward me. “You’ve been in Maile for too long. Have you forgotten the ways in which my father likes to handle traitors?”
No, unfortunately not.
I’ve seen enough death on the battlefield to know the cages strung from the walls of the Kenta palace were worse. At least dying in combat is normally quick. The memory of running past the emaciated father crying for his family in one of the cages still haunts me.
“And you never once saw the dungeons,” Acker says, knowing exactly what I’m thinking about. He’s standing at the foot of the bed, close enough for me to make out the slight tilt of his head and downturned gaze.
“Well, I guess I’m going to find out, aren’t I?”
“We’re not going to the palace.”
“Where are you taking me, then?”
“Somewhere safe.”
His answer has me clenching my teeth. “I was safe in Maile,” I snipe.
“No, you weren’t. I had a man tailing you for years and you never suspected a thing.”
I sneer at the reminder of Fredrich’s treachery.
“Then maybe I should say: I was safe in Maile from everyone but you.” I can hear the grind of his teeth as his jaw flexes, but still, he keeps his face hidden in shadow.
I lean forward as much as I’m able in the shackles. “Why aren’t you looking at me?”
He swallows, the sound audible in the small space.
“You can’t, can you?”
“No.”
The single word washes over me, making my blood run cold for a single heartbeat before turning blistering hot in my veins.
“Why not?” I ask, voice coming out flatter than I intended.
“Are you ashamed? You’ve done the very same thing that was done to me as a child.
Or is it that you’re still disgusted by me after all this time, despite finally realizing that I was telling the truth about your father all along?
As appalled as you were four years ago when I betrayed you, it’s not like you were so fucking innocent—”
“Enough,” he snaps, grip tight on the bed frame. “It’s already difficult to hear your restraints, let alone see them.” He pushes away from the bed, turning his back to me. “And I have no intention of testing the oath’s limits.”
I suck in a sharp breath.
A shameful kernel of hope threatens to take root inside of me. But without trust, it doesn’t have any nourishment to help it grow. He could be lying. Distracting me from the fact I’m currently his prisoner.
“It’s not the oath you should be scared of anyway,” I say. “Because my mother is going to kill you.”
“Your mother wouldn’t kill your Match.”
He speaks as if it’s an undeniable truth and I scoff at his arrogance. “She killed her own Match for hiding me in Alaha. She definitely has no reservations about killing mine.”
His head snaps up in my direction but manages to keep his eyes averted from my bound form. “What are you talking about?”
“My father became fearful of Edmond’s relentless pursuit of other gifts, and when I showed early signs of awakening, he took me to live with the Alaha, knowing Edmond would never leave land to look for me.
It wasn’t until years later that my mother found out he was responsible …
and then he refused to reveal my location. ”
“But Osiris confessed to taking you during the annual conclave, claimed your death was an accident, and she killed him on the spot. There were witnesses. Unless…” He turns his head to the side, never looking at me fully. “Osiris is your father.”
“Yes.”
“What of Leo, your mother’s guard? The one she married and crowned king?”
“That’s a story for another day. But if you believe being my Match affords you any protection, you couldn’t be more wrong. There’s likely an entire army already headed your way.”
After a moment, he nods. “Good,” he says. “We’re going to need the men.”
At first, I’m taken aback by his cavalier attitude. Then it hits me. “You plan on using Wren’s power of influence on my men,” I say, voice hollow to my own ears.
Acker’s response is swift, cutting. “You know my stance regarding enforced loyalty, yet you believe me capable of controlling an army of men by robbing them of their free will?”
“I don’t know if I ever really knew what you’re truly capable of.”
He smiles, the upturn of his lips visible from his profile, but there’s no humor in it. “You don’t like the taste of your own medicine?”
My words come out sharp. “Fuck you.”
His responding chuckle as he leaves the cabin has me seeing red, and I have nothing better to do in the silence than think of all the ways I can rip out his tongue. Hate isn’t a strong enough word for what I feel for him. Doesn’t even skim the surface of the ocean of loathing I’m swimming in.
Every breath, every heartbeat, fuels the fire raging inside of me.