Chapter 9 #2
Knowing he couldn’t kill her brought forth a boldness in her next words. “Somehow I don’t believe that’s it,” Orelia said as she searched his cold, dead eyes. “If a child’s name appeared on that precious stone of yours, you’d slit their throat, wouldn’t you?”
He grabbed her by the throat and lifted her up, squeezing so tight her eyes nearly bulged from her head. Orelia thrashed—kicking, splashing, panicking.
Vade’s eyes blackened until they were an abyss. “Fuck you, witch. You don’t know shit about me.”
She couldn’t breathe. She tried to peel his fingers from her throat, but he only squeezed tighter. “You’re—” She coughed. “Hurting . . .me.”
“Good.”
He didn’t look at her naked body, just glared up at her with unbridled malice.
She scratched his arms, painting him in bloody lines, but he never stopped staring at her.
The sides of her vision crept in, and the sounds of splashing water faded away.
Orelia sucked down any air she could, but it wasn’t enough. He was crushing her windpipe.
When she’d almost passed out, Vade released her.
Orelia plunged into the dark water. Desperate for air, she clawed her way to the surface, gasping as she fumbled around for anything to hold on to. Her fingers found the grassy bank, and she dug her nails deep into the earth, wheezing uncontrollably.
Vade stepped out of the river next to where she clung to the ground. She stared at the grass, blinking herself back to reality, listening to him gather his things with unnecessary force before heading back to camp.
Her healing powers went to work on her neck; he’d held her tight enough to bruise.
The tears came next. If he’d been able to, she knew he would have killed her and left her lying in the forest just like the Arbors, with no one to mourn her death as the vultures ate their fill and the sun bleached her bones.
Orelia didn’t bother asking when they were stopping for the night. She carried Bute’s jar under one arm and silently followed Vade through the woods for many marks.
He never once looked over his shoulder to see if she was still with him.
Surely he’d killed children before. He had no soul. No conscience. Nothing was out of the realm of possibility. Disgust sat like acid in her stomach from ever finding such a man attractive, and it was almost enough to make her retch for the second time that day.
When they reached a small clearing, Vade dropped his pack, freed his seidr axe, and headed back into the woods.
In the last of the light, Orelia set up her bedroll on top of the largest bed of moss she could find.
She set Bute’s jar on the ground next to her.
The frog blinked his bulbous eyes, and Orelia wondered how she was going to get food for him.
But first, she needed to handle her business before Vade returned, so she found a cluster of trees away from camp that offered some privacy.
Seeing the world wasn’t as glamorous as she envisioned. Her imaginings certainly hadn’t included squatting in the woods, nor being magically tied to a devil of a man. The day had been terrible, but knowing they would be in Ricaboro soon eased her troubled heart.
Rumor had it the three cities around Goldbottom Bay were so full of excess wealth that gold coins lined the sea floor and made the water sparkle yellow in the sun. She couldn’t wait to see it.
Orelia finished her business, and when she rounded the tree, she nearly slammed into Vade. She jumped back, hand instinctively protecting her throat.
The glowing axe hung loose in his hand, and he had two bloody rabbits in the other. “I came back and you were gone,” he said.
She angled herself away from him. “I . . .had to go.”
His eyes went to her covered throat. To the flesh still tender to the touch. His blank expression told her nothing about how he felt about what he’d done.
Afraid he might lunge for her if she tried to go around him, she kept her eyes on the ground, barely breathing.
Vade didn’t speak or move.
She squeezed her eyes shut, bracing for something, anything that would hurt. A soft whimper came out of her. Orelia could sense him still standing there, so after a few seconds, she cautiously opened her eyes.
Vade turned and headed back to camp. She waited until he was far enough away that she could breathe steadily, then did the same.
The ward was erected and dinner was prepared, cooked, and eaten in silence. After they’d finished, Vade sharpened his blades. She’d managed to kill a few flies that tried to land on her rabbit and put them in Bute’s jar, but he hadn’t touched them.
Orelia stared at the fire, arms wrapped around her bent legs and chin resting on one knee.
Her thoughts went to Teegan’s hearth and the fires they’d shared over the years.
Orelia would play with Jax on the floor, each with their own carved, wooden horse pretending they were batalins fighting against the dragons of the sea.
There was warmth, and laughter, and love.
Her heart ached at the memory. She hoped Teegan had taken Millie and the other Pony girls under her wing before Rae got to them.
Rae had a tendency to push too hard, and Orelia often had to heal new girls Rae befriended who weren’t ready for what was expected of them.
The girls were all motherless daughters, forced into a life no one had been able to save them from. And Orelia wasn’t there to help. Contrition sat like a lump in her throat.
Something appeared to her right, and she shrieked, quickly scooting away.
Vade was crouched with the map in his hand. “Thought you may want to see it again.”
She kept herself in a tight ball. “No, thank you.”
When he extended his arm, she flinched. He gave her a strange look, then said, “I’m not going to hurt you.”
Tears brimmed in her eyes. She stared at the yellow square of parchment, anything to avoid looking at him. “You already did.” The truth came out in a broken whisper.
Vade didn’t move for what felt like minutes. The focus of her stare could have burned a hole in the paper. Eventually, he set the map on her bedroll before making for his. Orelia left the map untouched and crawled under her thin blanket, turning her back to him so he couldn’t see her cry.
He may not be able to kill her, but he could certainly wound. She doubted today would be the last time his hand was around her throat.
Or worse.
Quiet tears dripped down her face, landing on the pack under her cheek. Orelia curled into a ball, tugged the blanket over her mouth, and sobbed into the scratchy fabric, regretting ever trying the spell and leaving the safety of home.