Chapter 32 #2
“You can’t avoid this forever, Cai.”
“Get. Out.”
“Make me,” Roiven says, his voice lower than normal.
I snort, too furious to form words, and walk through the door myself.
“You’re really going to run?” Roiven asks.
I slam it shut in his face and walk down the empty hall, my body buzzing with so much anger I can’t even think straight.
And the feeling he shoves into my head then?
Love. For this place, and the people here.
Overwhelming. A torrent of it. I slam the door in my head so hard my temples throb, but it shuts up the feeling he's trying to manipulate me with.
What am I supposed to do now, just give up?
Roiven won’t agree to anything. Without something to offer, the War-Father would never consider retreating from victory.
And if I’m being realistic, the odds were always low the War-Father would agree, even if Roiven bowed to the God-Emperor and lay his head on an executioner’s block while the Empire took over the entirety of the Wild Seas.
I’ve watched people—witches—try to surrender before, and been killed anyway. This was always hopeless. And I was always an idiot for believing it could end any way but in bloodshed.
Just like I was an idiot for believing I could trust Roiven.
I still have to try. And if Roiven believes me fighting could make a difference, then maybe me offering to surrender could, too.
Maybe.
Probably not, but maybe.
The same type of glowing stone I found in my room is inset against the walls.
They didn’t seem to glow earlier, when the sun still shone through the holes in the ceiling.
Now they do, throwing off a dim light far weaker than torches or a lantern.
But it’s enough to see by. I follow the glowing lights towards the nearest staircase and begin to descend.
Leaving in a rowboat is insanity. I know that. But I’m too angry right now to care. I doubt I can convince any of Roiven’s coven to take me on their own dragons. And I’m sure as hell not riding with Roiven, even if he’d be willing to take me instead of keeping me trapped here.
At the bottom of a flight of stairs, I nearly ram into two witches. They’re both men, walking side by side up the stairs as they talk in hushed whispers. I grind to a halt and they look up at me in surprise.
The one on the right is tall, with brown hair, yellow-burning eyes, and a long beard. His expression turns into a scowl.
“So it wasn’t rumors, Javien,” he growls to the witch beside him.
His companion—Javien, I presume—is lankier, shorter but corded with tight muscle. His eyes burn with an eerie gray flame.
“By the gods,” he mutters.
“Let me through,” I tell them.
“Did you enchant him to make him do it?” The first man gestures at the bond marks on my left arm.
He steps onto the stair directly below mine, and I step back to keep our bodies from touching.
Even two steps above him, we’re the same height.
I can smell liquor on his breath. “Our king, marrying a knight.”
“He would never,” Javien says. “She’s forced his will.”
So much for Roiven’s word buying me protection. These men are in as much disbelief about our marriage as I am.
“I’m not the one who Enchanted him,” I tell them coldly, and wrap my hand around my blade. “Step aside.”
Both men advance again instead. I curse under my breath and begin to walk backwards up the steps. They're too near in front of me for me to easily draw my sword, not without slicing them open.
I might still kill Roiven, if it comes down to it, but I’m not going to kill these two idiots unless I have to. My blood feels like it’s boiling as I let them force me up the stairs, but they have no idea what they’re getting into. Giving me more room to fight is not to their advantage.
“I’m not interested in a fight.”
“No?” Javien croons. “The knight’s outnumbered.”
“I think we’re scaring it,” the taller one says, a wicked grin on his face.
“I’ll kill if I need to,” I warn.
Javien barks a laugh.
“You’re without your ship, knight. Just what do you think you can do to us?”
We reach the next landing, where an open door leads into a small room. I back into it, my eyes taking inventory so I can fight without tripping. There’s a pair of potted plants beside the door, and a little table with two chairs to my right, but not much else.
I draw my sword. The men reach the landing and turn to look in at me.
“Keep walking,” I growl.
Javien draws his sword slowly, with a smirk. He walks through the doorway, his companion on his heels.
“I mean it. If you want to live, keep walking.”
There’s a burning smell. Smoke rises from the plant to the left of the door. Is one of them doing something?
Javien slices towards me. I block the blow and notice, belatedly, that the taller man has drawn a throwing knife.
My sword clangs against the small blade as it whizzes towards my heart.
I knock it off-center, but it glances off my shoulder as it falls, ripping the fabric and slicing a beaded line of blood.
I block another blow from Javien and twist my sword with a hooking motion, snapping the weapon out of his hand.
“What is the meaning of this?” a steely voice asks.
The taller man has loosed another knife. I drop out of its path as the men turn.
Torain, the silver-haired witch from the coven, fills the doorway behind them. I rise slowly back to my feet, sword gripped tight. I have no doubt Torain has strong magic, given that he’s part of the same coven as Roiven and Avreen.
If I have to take all three of them at once, I can’t make a single mistake. I raise my sword into a guard position.
“He can’t have married a knight,” Javien says defensively.
Torain’s yellow-green eyes slide over to look at me. The witch’s expression is bored, his lips curled slightly down. He steps all the way inside the room and sighs.
“Go, you fools,” Torain tells them flatly, “before I tell the King what you were about to do to his wife.”