16. Lily
The village square erupts into chaos as Lord Varkos”s soldiers thunder in on horseback, weapons drawn and faces grim. I”m haggling with a merchant over the price of a new whetstone when the first screams rend the air, and I whirl around, my hand flying to the hilt of my sword.
”What in the seven hells?” I mutter, scanning the milling crowd for the source of the disturbance. And then I see them—a dozen armored men bearing down on the square, their crimson tabards emblazoned with the snarling wolf sigil of Emberhal.
”Lily Thornwood!” the lead rider bellows. ”By order of Lord Varkos, you are under arrest for treason and collusion with the enemy! Surrender yourself, or face the consequences!”
”Like hell I will,” I snarl under my breath, drawing my blade with a steely rasp. Around me, villagers scatter and flee, desperate to escape the impending violence. I curse my own complacency, my reckless stupidity in venturing so far from Thornhall”s walls, unprotected.
Then the soldiers are upon me, and there”s no more time for self-recrimination. Only the dance, the drums of battle pounding in my blood as I meet their charge with a wild, defiant cry.
I fell the first man with a thrust to the throat, his lifeblood spraying hot across the cobbles. The second I hamstring, sending him toppling from the saddle with a shriek. But there are too many, and I”m already weary, already wounded from the ceaseless strain of pretending for my clan.
A heartbeat too slow to dodge the descending mace, the crack of impact against my temple. I reel back, stunned, my vision sparking red and black. Distantly, I feel my sword slip from numb fingers, hear the clatter of it on stone.
Then a blow to the belly, driving the air from my lungs. A rain of fists, of boots, as I crumple to the ground. The coppery slick of blood on my tongue, the white-hot whirl of pain.
And then...nothing. Nothing but the oblivion of unconsciousness, as I slip into the dark.
I come to in chains.
They”re the first thing I register as awareness seeps back—the cold, heavy weight of iron manacles around my wrists, my ankles. The dull ache of bruises and sharp pain of cuts.
I blink crusty eyes, trying to focus, to orient myself. Stone walls, rough and dank. A thin pallet beneath me, rank with mold and the stink of old sweat, old fear.
A cell. A dungeon. The realization coils like a cold snake in my gut.
I”m a prisoner. Again. Captured by Varkos, chained by him like an animal. Like a dog.
The creak of a door, the clank of keys in a lock. I struggle to sit up, gritting my teeth against the throb of my skull, the scream of bruised muscles. Booted feet on flagstones, drawing nearer.
Then he”s there, looming over me like a nightmare made flesh. Lord Varkos, the Bloody Baron of Emberhal.
”Well, well,” he drawls, his voice cold and cruel. ”The Red Blade herself, trussed up like a prize pig. Isn”t this a pretty picture?”
”Varkos,” I rasp, my tongue thick in my dry mouth. ”I”d say it”s a pleasure, but...your hospitality needs work.”
He chuckles, mirthless. ”Still so proud,” he muses. ”Still so defiant, even in defeat. One would think you”d have learned by now, Lily...that there”s no place for pride in the face of raw power.”
”You call this power?” I spit, rattling my manacles. ”Ambushing an unarmed woman, beating her senseless? That”s not power, Varkos. That”s cowardice.”
His eyes flash, his jaw clenching. ”Unarmed?” he scoffs. ”Hardly. You”re never unarmed, Red Blade. Your body is a weapon, honed and hard...and treacherous.”
He crouches down, his face inches from mine. ”But don”t worry,” he purrs, his breath hot and sour. ”I”ll tame that fiery spirit. I”ll break you and savor every scream.”
Bile rises in my throat, fear and fury a tangle in my gut. But I won”t let him see it, won”t give him the satisfaction.
”You”ll try,” I hiss through gritted teeth. ”And you”ll fail. Because I may bend, Varkos...but I”ll never break. Not for you. Not for anyone.”
Except Grok, a traitorous voice whispers in my mind. You”d break for him, wouldn”t you? Bend and bow and beg for one more taste, one more touch...
I shove the thought down savagely, disgusted with my own weakness. Focus, damn it. Focus on the monster in front of you, not the brute, the beloved who haunts your dreams, your daylight. Who broke you, long before Varkos ever laid hands on you.
Broke you and remade you. Forged you anew in the fire, the ferocity of his passion, his possession...
I wrench my mind back to the present with a snarl, meeting Varkos”s cold gaze head-on.
”Do your worst,” I rasp, baring my teeth in a feral grin. ”But know this, my lord...I”ll fight you every step, stymie you at every turn. You want my secrets, my submission? You”ll have to earn them. With blood and brutality and the bitter dregs of your black soul, if you even have one.”
He laughs at that, a short, sharp bark. ”Oh, I have a soul, Lily,” he says softly. ”A dark one, to be sure, but no darker than yours, I”d wager. No darker than the beast, the barbarian who stole your virtue, your valor.”
I go still, my heart stuttering. ”What are you talking about?” I whisper, my mouth gone dry.
Varkos smiles, slow and savage. ”Did you think I wouldn”t know?” he murmurs. ”Wouldn”t hear the whispers, the rumors of the Red Blade rutting with the warlord of of the Borderlands, the ogre king of the western wilds?”
He makes a tutting sound, mocking and mean. ”For shame, Lily. Spreading your legs for the enemy, sheathing his sword inside you when you should have been sliding steel between his ribs, slitting his throat as he slept.”
I feel the blood drain from my face, horror and humiliation churning in my gut. He knows, I think dimly, dazedly. Gods help me, he knows...
”It”s not...it wasn”t like that,” I rasp, my voice thin. ”I didn”t...I wasn”t...”
”What?” Varkos cuts me off. ”Wasn”t a willing participant? Just a helpless captive, a slave to his lusts?”
He scoffs, shaking his head. ”Don”t insult my intelligence, Lily. You wanted it. Wanted him in all his savage glory, all his untamed hunger.”
He leans in again, his voice dropping to a sinister purr. ”Wanted him like you”ll soon want me. Need me, even as I break you, buckle you to my will.”
My gorge rises, revulsion and dread a noose around my neck. ”Never,” I grit out. ”I”ll never want you, Varkos. Never submit to you, no matter what you do to me. No matter how you hurt me.”
”We shall see,” he says softly. Straightening, he turns to leave, tossing a final, awful smile over his shoulder.
”Rest up, Red Blade,” he calls mockingly. ”You”ll need your strength for all the screaming you”ll be doing. All the singing as I play your body like an instrument, pluck its secrets from your shattered soul.”
And with that, he”s gone, the cell door slamming shut behind him with a clang of finality.
I slump back against the stone, shaking, my breath coming in sharp gasps. Gods, I think despairingly. Gods, what do I do? How do I endure this nightmare with no hope, no help in sight? No hero coming to save me from my own failures?
But even as the black dread threatens to overwhelm me, I feel it. A flicker, a flame deep in my breast.
A kernel of strength, of surety that even Varkos cannot touch, cannot tarnish.
Because he gave it to me. Grok gave it to me with every touch, every taste. Every scorching claim of his body on mine, in mine, around mine.
He changed me, charged me with a fire that no chains can contain, no tortures tame. A love, a longing that transcends pain and fear, danger and doubt.
I am his, I think fiercely. His, and his alone beyond border or blade, in peace or war.
And I will endure this for him. For us, and the future we could build together, birth together from the ashes of all we were.
I will hold fast, hold true until he finds me, until he frees me...
My king, my captor. My heart, my home who will never stop fighting for me, seeking for me, no matter the cost, the carnage. No matter the miles between us.
My Grok who even now, somehow is coming for me. To claim me, crown me as his own.
As he was always meant to do.