Chapter 19
Nineteen
Behind Enemy Lines
Another night passed, and sleep offered no mercy. I had dreamt of death—my death.
Countless times, and yet, each death was in a different place with a different dress clinging to my skin. But in the end, it was the same sword through my heart, wielded by the same man I could not see.
I burrowed further into the soft furs of the bed. The delicious scent of caramel and fresh night air was long gone, replaced by the sour stench of shame and grief that clung to my skin.
The monster lurking beneath my skin had replenished, and it felt as though it was its own sentient being. I could feel it, curling tightly around the cracked pieces of my heart, willing it not to shatter.
My only reprieve from my thoughts and nightmares was Cerilla.
She brought me food, fresh clothes, and tended to my wounds.
Despite her being a creature that I had been raised to fear, she was nicer to me than most of my own kind had ever been.
I found myself almost looking forward to seeing her.
She felt like a small candle flickering in the depths of night, not enough to illuminate, but enough to stop me from being blind.
I was trapped here. Bound to the formidable Commander of Death for a task I did not understand because of a power I couldn’t control that was connected to a goddess killed a thousand years ago.
I didn’t know what I was, only that the moment anyone saw the real me, they either tried to kill me or use me. I should have accepted that I was unlovable by now, but the hollow feeling growing in my chest felt like it would consume me.
I hadn’t let myself think about Dreya. Not really. Her warmth had curdled into hatred the moment she saw me yield water. She had been the first person I thought might be a friend. Instead, she had been the first to try to kill me without hesitation.
Is that how Orin would have looked at me as he shoved his blade through my heart?
I buried my face in the pillow and screamed until my lungs burned dry, until my body convulsed and the sound ripped itself out of me, jagged and broken, leaving nothing behind but pain and breathless silence.
Grief swelled in my chest, sharp and suffocating. I shoved it down before it could drown me. I could not afford to mourn people who would gladly watch me die.
“Why do you scream?”
I startled and glared up at the hulking form entering the tent. Sunlight spilled in around him, making him appear to be a monstrous shadow.
A gasp escaped me, not in fear, but at the warm golden beams streaming into the dark tent. Sunlight. I had been too caught up in myself to even think about that. Lumireth was not cursed in the same way the Mortal Kingdom was.
The Commander’s fists clenched at his sides, gaze raking over my body. What a weak, pathetic mess I must look like.
He was still shirtless, his powerful form on full display. Leather caps covered his broad shoulders, and a sword handle stuck up over his back, as if he needed a weapon to be deadly.
“Where are the Soul Relics located?” he demanded.
“Kill me already,” I muttered, rolling onto my side, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response. “Or go find a shirt.”
“I do not typically get complaints,” he almost growled as his boots thudded closer, unhurried, as though he expected me to flinch. But I wouldn’t. I glanced up as he crossed his bouldering arms over his chest.
“Nor am I used to women crying in my bed.”
His bed? That caused me to flinch. His gaze dragged over me, sharp and assessing as he smirked with satisfaction.
The words had slid under my skin like a blade, and every instinct I had went taut.
“Your wallowing makes you useless to me, get up,” the Commander demanded.
My spine prickled with anger. Useless. “No,” my voice rang with steel. “You promised me information,” I asked, sitting up and pushing his blankets off me with disgust.
“Do as you are told, Little Drownling, and you will get what you want.” He nodded towards the door, black curls falling across his forehead with the motion.
“Come,” he growled. I didn’t want to listen to him.
But the thought of knowing how sunlight felt against my skin made me follow him.
I stepped into the blinding sunlight, squinting against the brightness.
Its warmth folded over my skin like the embrace of a long-lost lover I had forgotten.
Instinctively, I tilted my chin to the sky and inhaled deeply, letting the warmth sink into my frozen bones.
The air here was crisp and sweet, flooding my lungs with something that made my blood sing in welcome.
I had never known what warmth had felt like.
A soft moan escaped my lips as I closed my eyes, drinking in the golden heat like nectar as though I was starved.
I felt the heaviness of his gaze and opened my eyes.
The muscles along his shoulders bunched with tension as he turned around, expecting me to follow.
We walked a worn path between a labyrinth of tan-coloured tents, the sun casting long shadows against the soft grass that I longed to touch. It was so green. Lighter than Orin’s eyes, but my heart pinched all the same.
We came into a clearing that seemed to be in the heart of the camp. I felt so small surrounded by Fae warriors. Some sparred with steel, blades clashing in a violent rhythm, sweat covering their war hardened bodies. Others shot arrows into straw-draped targets with precise, deadly focus.
Strong aromas wafted towards me, rising from a large iron pot that simmered over an open flame. I inhaled deeply, and my stomach grumbled.
Many Fae noticed us, unfortunately. Admiration, respect, and fear followed in my captor’s wake before their gazes sharpened with disgust when they landed on me. But the Commander didn’t stop walking, leading me past the hostile creatures to the edge of the camp.
The Fae camp loomed behind us as the Commander led me to the edge of the lush forest. Maybe he was going to feed me to a beast. Maybe the blood deal was a trick, and he was going to kill me after all.
“About time!” A Fae warrior stepped out of the canopy of trees, his large strides consuming the distance between us.
Even from this far away I could feel that he exuded power, but the grin on his handsome face oozed charisma.
His muscular form was covered in tattoos as well, and he seemed to prefer the same shirtless armour as the other warriors.
The breeze teased his auburn hair that was tied in a high, messy bun that almost hid his pointed ears.
Pointed ears that had holes in his earlobes stretched by black bands.
I had never seen anything like it. He extended his hand towards the Commander of Death, who returned the gesture.
Their hands clasped around each other’s forearms in a greeting that looked as though they had done for a lifetime.
“Everything is prepared, except there was a complication,” the warrior said with a grimace. “One you may not be happy about.”
The Commander growled, a deep rumble of warning rolling through his chest that sent a shiver up my spine.
“It’s just me, dear brother.” Cerilla strolled into the clearing radiating grace and beauty, slapping the back of her hand against the warrior’s shoulder.
She wore dark, slim-fitting pants that hugged every curve and a matching slim piece of fabric that barely contained her breasts.
I had never seen people display so much skin in front of others so casually.
But given the heat, I didn’t blame them.
“You wouldn’t expect me to let a fellow lady ride with two gruesome warriors by herself now, would you? What kind of hosts would we be?”
“We are not hosts, Cerilla. That,” he grunted, gesturing over his shoulder at me, “is my prisoner. Not your plaything.”
The warrior glanced behind the Commander, grinning down at me with glistening canines on display. “I’m Solas.”
I took a reluctant step back and his eyebrows drew together. “No need to fear me, sweetheart, I won’t bite unless you ask me to.” He winked a heavily lashed hazel eye at me.
“She may look small and breakable, but she is a volatile little thing. Drowned twelve of our brethren on dry land.”
Shame slithered into the pit of my stomach, and I cast my eyes down to my feet. I did what I needed to do to protect my people, but it still wasn’t enough. They still turned on me.
Cerilla cut through the palpable silence as she pushed past the Fae males. “You were truly going to have her ride in this, brother? She will swelter!” She gestured towards my long cotton pants and tunic. “We will meet you at the horses when Lyra is properly dressed for riding in mid-summer.”
The Commander glanced skyward and shook his head before following a chuckling Solas into the forest. Clearly the Commander held patience for only his sister.
Cerilla waved her hand, and a pile of black material landed on her open hand, making me jump. She glanced at me. “Oh, darling, it’s just basic magic.”
I wanted to ask so many questions, but she held up a top like hers and my voice died in my throat.
“I cannot wear that,” I whispered. She looked confused as she held up the thin strap of material that would show every brutal scar that puckered the skin of my abdomen, back, and chest. Scars I did not want the world to see.
She sighed, the material disappearing before being replaced with a dark blouse with elbow-length sleeves that would billow and band at my elbows.
I nodded in acceptance and changed behind a nearby tree into the buttery-soft clothes she had given me.
The breeze seemed to glide straight through it, teasing my skin with its refreshing embrace against the growing warmth of the sun.
We walked further into the forest, the sun filtering lazily through the thick canopy, casting shadows against the textured bark of the large, lush trees. They seemed to pulse with life, and the vibrant flowers that scattered the ground seemed to bend towards us. I had never seen anything like it.
“Where are we going?” I asked Cerilla.
“The Commander wants you far away from the gate. I cannot tell you much,” she smiled apologetically. “But we will be travelling for five moons.”
A small thrill shot through me. Five days of travelling.
Of seeing. I was a prisoner, but the mercy of getting to explore felt almost like a taste of freedom.
Before I could ask any more questions, three large horses came into view.
The largest one was as black as midnight, large bags strapped to its sides.
The Commander of Death leaned against the tree next to the large beast, shadows withering around him, crawling to him from the forest like they were bringing him secrets.
Solas mounted his honey-coloured steed in one smooth motion; she kicked her front leg impatiently as he adjusted his weight in his saddle.
That left only one grey-and-white flecked mare with a braided mane.
Cerilla ran to her, patting her along the bridge of her nose.
I was probably going to be dragged along next to one of their horses like the prisoner I was.
“There are only three horses,” I said out loud.
“Congratulations, you can count.” The Commander pushed off the tree and readied his horse’s saddle.
I glared daggers at him, wishing I had my axe so I could throw it at his face.
I was not allowed at the stables at Stonebriar. Father used to tolerate me brushing the horses in the early mornings, until I tried to ride one to escape. Fracturing my arm when I had fallen off that mare had been the least painful injury of the day. Maybe walking wouldn’t be so bad.
“Get on the horse,” he growled.
“No,” I said before I realised.
The Commander held his hand and gestured, my blood bargain tattoo tingling with an uncomfortable heat. I took an involuntary step forward. What was happening? I tried to stop walking. Pain tore through my tattoo and up my arm, stealing my breath.
“You made a mistake, Little Drownling.” The Commander paused, his amusement palpable. “Whatever you ask of me,” he mocked. “One little slip of tongue and your will is mine to bend.”
Dread flooded through me, my naivety costing me once again. I opened my mouth to protest, but he held up his hand.
“Do not speak,” he murmured darkly, causing my words to get caught in my throat until only a strangled gasp of pain could escape.
Bastard! I yelled at him in my head as I glowered at him.
His hands wrapped around my waist, and I hit them uselessly. He continued to lift me as though I were nothing.
The nightmarish horse moved beneath me, and my thighs clenched to keep balance.
The horse reared in protest, tossing its head side to side.
I slipped sideways, gripping the saddle with white knuckles.
The seat jostled, warmth enveloping my back before a solid form melted against me.
I sat rigidly, trying to break contact with his impossibly large form.
I glanced over my shoulder, his face much too close. My protest died in a strange, strangled sound.
He chuckled darkly, the sound vibrating straight through me, leaving my hands shaking.
Take his blood, the voice whispered to me on the breeze and I stilled. I hadn’t heard it since I had almost died. Take his blood, give him yours.
He reached around me to grab the reins, his arms encircling me.
His scent enveloped me, sandalwood and caramel overpowering my senses.
His powerful thighs shifted around me as he nudged the beast into momentum.
I jostled forwards violently, before slamming backwards into the smooth bulk of his muscle.
A growl of warning ripped from his throat as his hips ground against me from behind, matching the rhythmic movements of the horse. A large hand wrapped around my waist, and I stiffened beneath the touch, warmth tingling across my skin.
“Engage here.” He slid his hand across my abdomen, his warm breath tickling my ear. His hand slid back to my waist sliding lower to rest at the top of my hip, strong fingers squeezing me painfully. “Soften here.”
I looked at him over my shoulder, my silver waves jostling with every bounce of the horse, making him see just how pissed off I was.
Go to Hells, I mouthed at him.
He lent down, lips roughly pressing against my ear.
“Behave, or I will tie you up and drag you behind my horse.” He breathed against me and disgust curled through my stomach. “Your screams would be fucking beautiful.”