Chapter 20
Chapter
Twenty
Every morning started the same.
Araya kept her eyes closed and her breathing even, pretending to be asleep as Jaxon moved around the tent getting ready for the day.
She doubted he believed her act for a moment, but he never challenged her on it.
It had been over a week since he took her to the cages and forced her to stare at what could become of her until her tears ran dry.
The faces of the fae in those cages haunted her nightmares.
There was nothing she could do to help them, but Araya still couldn’t shake the nagging sensation that something here was watching her—judging her inaction.
At least Jaxon hadn’t touched her since—not like that.
That first night, Araya had curled up on her pallet and braced herself for the inevitable, expecting him to force her into his bed whether by compulsion or brute force.
But all he’d done was toss a blanket over her, coldly ordering her to get some sleep.
And then in the morning he’d taken her to Caylin.
Jaxon’s footsteps crossed the tent, stopping so close to her face that Araya could smell the polish he used to keep that black leather so shiny. His hand settled on her shoulder, shaking her gently.
“Time to wake up, Starling,” he murmured. “You don’t want to make Caylin angry by being late do you?”
Araya’s breath hitched, betraying her ruse. She opened her eyes, ready for Jaxon to say something about it—but all he did was kneel beside her, fussing with the cuff around her ankle until it fell away.
“Go on,” he said, straightening. “Get yourself ready for the day. I laid a dress out for you.”
Araya slid behind the screen, splashing her face with water—still warm—from the basin before raking the brush through her hair and braiding it tightly with quick, practiced motions.
Araya sucked in a sharp breath as she let the shift settle against her skin, the rough fabric rasping against the constellation of freshly healed but still-tender cuts Caylin had left scattered across her body the last two times.
She probably wouldn’t get to wear it long anyway. Caylin liked to strip her completely before strapping her to the rack, giving her an expansive canvas to work with.
Jaxon looked up as she stepped back out, his gaze dragging over her braided hair and the simple shift with slow hunger. “You look nice,” he said. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
Araya stared at him, nonplussed. “What?”
“You don’t have to do this.” He straightened, crossing the tent to stand in front of her. He took her hand, warm fingers tracing over her skin. “We can go back to how things were. When we worked together instead of opposing each other. We made a good team, Starling.”
“We were never a team, Jaxon.” Araya pulled her hand away, putting a much needed step between them.
“We could be,” Jaxon said earnestly. “He’s not coming for you, Starling. He’s in Aetheris, fighting battles that have nothing to do with you. He blocked your connection. Isn’t that supposed to be some sort of terrible insult?”
“He put his people over himself.” Araya swallowed hard, refusing to let the tears that wanted to well up fall. “That’s what a good leader does, Jaxon.”
“And what about you?” He leaned forward, invading her space. “You just languish here, at the mercy of his enemies? I can protect you, Starling. I can stop all of this. All you have to do is choose me.”
Araya could only shake her head. “That’s never going to happen, Jaxon.”
“So that’s it then.” Jaxon stared at her. “You’d rather suffer for him, even though there’s no point? I’m twice the mage he is—”
“He’s my mate.” The words came out sharper than Araya had intended, falling like a blade between them. “I chose him. I love him, Jaxon. And there’s nothing you can do to change that.”
Jaxon’s expression hardened.
“You loved me too, at one point.” His hand snapped out, crushing her wrist in his iron grip before she could put any more space between them. “So I can’t help but think your affections are somewhat changeable.”
He marched her across the camp in silence, guards flanking them on either side. At least with the camp just beginning to wake there weren’t so many soldiers out. The few already awake were more interested in poking cook fires back to life than listening to Jaxon Shaw’s pet fae scream.
A bleary-eyed healer was already waiting in the tent they’d outfitted for this, his foot tapping on the bare dirt floor.
There was no furniture besides the long table against one wall and the rack in the center, its dark wood stained with the blood of Gods only knew how many fae that had come before her.
“Strip,” Jaxon ordered.
Araya complied, shivering in the chill of the spring morning. Jaxon looped the shift over his arm, standing back as the healer examined her.
He clicked his tongue as he worked, prodding her bruised flesh and the freshly healed cuts that peppered her arms and chest with clinical efficiency. “You need to lighten up on the blade,” he said.
“Inquisitor Pryce won’t like that,” Jaxon said.
The healer shrugged. “It doesn’t matter to me either way,” he said. “But if you continue as you have been, you’ll both end up having to wait days for her to heal naturally. I can only speed healing along if you leave me healthy skin to work with.”
“I’ll tell her,” Jaxon said. “Thank you.”
The healer pressed a fist against his chest, dipping his head before exiting the tent. Caylin ducked through a moment later, her gaze flashing over Araya’s naked body.
“You’re late,” Jaxon snapped at her. “You’re supposed to be here for inspection.”
Caylin waved him off. “I passed the healer on my way in,” she said. “Go ahead and strap her down so we can get started.”
Jaxon didn’t move. “The healer said you need to ease up on the knife work,” he said. “He can’t heal her if you don’t leave him some uninjured skin to work with.”
“Ease up?” Caylin scoffed, turning to the table of glittering blades.
“I haven’t even gotten started. Isn’t the point of this to cause as much pain as possible?
” She picked up a thin, curved blade, considering it for a moment before setting it back down.
“Put her face down if you’re so worried. She has plenty of skin on her back.”
Jaxon glared at Caylin’s back, and for a moment Araya thought he wouldn’t do it. He was angry—hurt. But he’d been against this from the start. No matter how much he hated her, he had to hate watching Caylin carve into her more.
But then his expression shuttered, his gaze turning cold.
Araya flinched as he grabbed her, shoving her hard against the bloodstained wood. She didn’t cry out, but she couldn’t stop the tears that welled up in her eyes, trailing down her cheeks as Jaxon tightened the straps around her wrists with practiced pulls, leather biting into tender flesh.
“Such pretty, sad tears,” Jaxon murmured, dragging a thumb across her cheek. He turned her head, the grain of the wood pressing against the side of her face. “You could have stopped this, Starling.”
“Is there a problem?” Caylin asked.
“No problem.” Jaxon stepped back. “It’s like you always said—she’s nothing but a halfblood whore.”
He turned his back on her, grinning at Caylin.
“Just don’t mark up her face,” he added. “I prefer her pretty.”
Araya inhaled reflexively, her breath hitching as the knife sliced a sharp, burning line across her back.
Plain steel instead of iron—and not too deep.
The most pain with the least damage. Every cut carefully calibrated not to scar while still leaving her gasping for breath, her tears long since run dry.
“You know—” Caylin’s soft voice wrapped around her, as sharp and deadly as the blade in her hand, “—I used to wonder what he saw in you.”
Another measured stroke, parallel to the first. Precise. Practiced.
“I suppose I understood the novelty of it,” Caylin went on. “You’re pretty enough. And of course, you were terribly desperate, weren’t you?” She laughed, her breath warm on the back of Araya’s neck. “Men do like it when their playthings are grateful.”
The blade kissed her skin again—not quite hard enough to draw blood this time. The sharp tip bumped over each one of her ribs, pausing just long enough that Araya tensed, shivering in anticipation before Caylin stepped back, the threat vanishing completely.
“But he kept coming back to you,” she said, a frown in her voice. “Over and over again. And then he made you his bond—”
“This isn’t what we’re here for, Caylin,” Jaxon interrupted. “Pain is the most likely emotion to cross a blocked bond.”
“Haven’t you ever heard of emotional pain?” Caylin retorted. “Trust me—”
She grabbed Araya’s braid, yanking her head back.
“—it adds to the agony. Doesn’t it, halfblood?” Caylin’s face swam in front of Araya’s eyes, so close that her warm breath stirred the strands of hair that had come loose around Araya’s face.
“She can’t even speak, Caylin,” Jaxon snapped. “You’re enjoying yourself so much that you’ve forgotten what our actual objective is here. If she loses consciousness the game is over. There’s no point in continuing if he can’t feel what you’re doing to her.”
“I’ve forgotten?” Caylin dropped her hand, letting Araya’s head thud back against the wood. “What about you? I think you’re having trouble watching your precious little pet bleed—”
Araya closed her eyes.
Their voices blurred together, the words losing meaning. The pressure of the wood against her skin eased, the throbbing ache of the cuts across her back dulling to a quiet warmth, until the only thing she was left with was the slow, steady thump of her heartbeat.
This was never going to end.
They’d drag her back here day after day. Carve away pieces of her until there was nothing left of the person Loren had fallen in love with. And when the Arcanum decided they were ready to secure their own little fae prince or princess—well, then a new nightmare would begin.
It would be better if she died here.
Is that what you want?
Araya shuddered, a single thread of fear fighting through her exhaustion. She didn’t recognize the soft voice that echoed through the darkness, but she could feel it—a presence so vast and powerful that she couldn’t do anything but give in as it folded her into its arms.
I’m so tired, she whispered, the words spreading through the darkness like ripples on a pond. I just want to rest.
Then rest.
The word settled into Araya’s chest, warmth spreading through her veins from that single point. She was small again, her head pillowed against her mother’s chest, the beat of her heart anchoring Araya to a world that no longer existed. A world without fear. A world with no Jaxon. No Arcanum.
A world where she was safe.
Someone shouted far away, screaming something that might have been her name.
But she was so tired, and there was so much pain in the waking world.
The warmth surrounding her pressed closer, coaxing her deeper into its embrace.
Nothing would hurt her again. Nothing could touch her here.
There wouldn’t be any more pain or fear. Not ever again.
Rest, the darkness whispered with her mother’s voice.
Yes. Araya closed her eyes. She was safe here. She could rest—
A white-hot blade sliced through the darkness.
Araya’s eyes flew open, the scream in her throat strangled by the thick vine wrapped around her neck. Thick clouds of smoke stung her eyes, tears streaming down her face. Her hands spasmed, scrabbling at the leather restraints. She couldn’t see, couldn’t breathe—
“Damn it—” Jaxon’s face swam into focus, black spots dancing across her vision. “Hold still.”
An iron blade flashed. Araya flinched—but Jaxon hacked through the vine around her neck instead, tearing it free.
Araya dragged in a single, frantic breath, exhaling on a scream as the iron blade grazed her skin.
The vine recoiled like a living thing, that presence in her mind screeching in fury and pain as hungry flames spread across the tent.
Jaxon slashed through the rest of her bindings, pulling her off the rack and dragging her free of the remaining vines just as the flames reached them, hungry tongues licking across her battered flesh.
They staggered out into daylight, Jaxon pulling her clear of the blazing tent.
Caylin had made it out. And the two guards.
Araya was vaguely aware of someone screaming. No, that was her—
Jaxon ripped his coat from his shoulders, throwing it over her.
“What were you thinking?” he snarled. “You set it on fire with us still inside.”
“Sir—” it was one of the guards speaking, his voice tight with fear “—there’s a clear protocol when the forest gets inside the wall. The burn has to happen immediately. We can’t wait to try and save some fae female—”
“Do you have any idea how valuable she is?” Jaxon demanded. “I’d sooner set the two of you on fire than her.”
“Oh for gods’ sake,” Caylin scoffed, but her face was pale under the soot streaking it. “It was just a few vines—”
“A few vines?” Jaxon rounded on her so fast she stumbled back, her eyes wide.
“You have no fucking idea what you’re talking about.
Those few vines can kill an entire scouting party and leave nothing behind to bury.
If you knew how close we just came to dying you’d already be on the road back to Aetheris. ”
Someone grabbed her, rough hands scooping her off the ground coat and all. Araya cried out, her voice nothing but a croak as fresh agony blazed across her body. This pain was worse than iron. Worse than anything she’d ever experienced in the camps.
“I’m taking her to the healers,” Jaxon snapped. “Get this all cleaned up and stay the fuck out of my sight. All of you.”