Chapter Sixteen
Serin
The closer I got, the more the lake called to me.
I could hear the gentle ripple of the breeze across the water, the sound of a frog at the shore, the presence of a deer taking a sip.
It called to me in my bones, urging me forward, my steps getting quicker and quicker until I was running, Nira rushing to keep up with me.
Home, my bones sang. You’re home.
I broke through a line of willow trees, and there it was.
It looked different. The water was lower. Less blue. Some of the water lilies had withered and died.
But it was still home.
“Don’t need to be shy with me,” Nira said, shrugging as she took my small sword from me.
I didn’t hesitate.
I slid out of my shoes, then my pants, leaving me in a small swatch of fabric Nira had constructed that she called ‘panties’ and insisted I wear because they ‘help with the chafing issue.’ I didn’t know what the chafing issue was, but as with all things, I chose to trust the much more experienced Nira.
I left on the tight shirt along with the panties and teased my toes into the cool water.
It sang through me as I sank deeper and deeper until it completely enveloped me.
The whole world fell away.
Time ceased to exist.
All I was aware of was the feel of the water as I swam, all the tension in me loosening. The weight that had been pressing down on my shoulders fell away.
Pleasure bloomed through me, but for the first time, I had something else to compare it to.
Jet’s face suddenly burst through my mind, his lids heavy, his gaze heated.
And for the first time in my life, the lake… it wasn’t enough.
I broke the surface, ready to suck in a deep breath, when I heard it.
The clash of swords.
My heart sank as I whipped around in the water and looked toward the shore.
And there was Nira, body twisted, sword raised.
Engaging with, oh no.
No!
The troll.
Vrad.
And rushing up behind her with a large tree limb raised? That was the redheaded fae who’d helped kidnap me.
“Nira!” I screamed, treading water.
“Stay there!” she yelled back.
She twisted, swiping at the redheaded fae to back him off. But Vrad took the opportunity to swing, punching her so hard in the head that she went down on her knees with a grunt.
No.
No, no, no, no, no.
This couldn’t be happening.
They couldn’t hurt—or kill—her. Not for me. And, surely, that was why they were here.
I dove under the water, knowing I would swim faster, even as my heart pounded against my ribcage at not being able to see what was happening on the shore.
I was surfacing again when a hand grabbed my hair, yanking so hard I screamed underwater, swallowing and choking on water as I was dragged out of the lake.
I was still coughing up water as I was dragged onto the soft, thick carpet of grass.
“Serin!” Nira called.
I couldn’t turn my head to see her as the hand tugged my hair harder, making pain shoot across my scalp. But it helped to know she was still there. Alive. Conscious.
I expected to find the troll standing over me, but when my head was yanked backward, it was the redheaded fae who had pulled me out of the water.
I felt something close to hope swelling.
I wasn’t a fool; I knew I had no chance of winning a fight against the troll.
But this fae? He was similar in size to me.
Maybe he was stronger. On the other hand, I had the better motivation.
I had everything to lose. Because I would rather be killed right here on the shore of my lake than be taken back to Grimwood.
I knew what he would have in store for me.
Imprisonment.
Then torture to force answers out of me about Jet, about Cass, about the Dark Court and their plans.
That couldn’t happen.
I had to fight.
Reaching up, I grabbed my hair closer to the root, making it harder for him to use it against me.
I had no weapon. My sword was somewhere over by Nira, and I hoped she would use it for herself if she needed it.
But our lessons hadn’t been all sword fighting.
She’d taught me some things about anatomy too. Especially about a certain weak spot in the male anatomy.
On my knees in this position, I had a really good shot at not missing my target.
I took my free hand, but instead of balling it into a fist like she’d shown me in certain hand-to-hand fights, I curled in my fingers and jutted out my palm.
“A palm strike allows you to use your full force more safely.”
Then I did what she told me to do.
“Don’t hold back. Don’t ever hold back. If you are in a fight, you have to assume you are in a fight to your death. Never pull your punches. Never hesitate. Fight with everything you have every moment you have.”
I slammed my palm into the redhead’s crotch over and over and over.
Five, six times before he could even react enough to release my hair.
His hands moved down, protecting himself.
But that was okay. Because I was free.
I shot up to my feet and struck every soft spot I could find: nose, mouth, cheeks, throat.
Just as I was sure I was getting the upper hand, a loud, sick crunch filled the air, making me whip around and find the troll standing over a limp Nira, a rock still in his hand. Bright red blood stained the edge.
And he was lifting his massive arm again.
A scream started to build, but I fought it back.
Screaming wouldn’t help.
But my lake? My lake could.
I’d only ever had it protect me before, but if I willed it, couldn’t it possibly protect Nira?
It was worth a try.
I squeezed my eyes tight, ignoring the pain as the redhead’s fist collided with my cheek, and focused on my lake.
Save her, I begged. Save her. Kill him if necessary, but save her.
There was one moment of horrifying stillness, save for the hand that wrapped around my throat.
Then, just as I felt my lungs tighten and my vision go hazy around the edges, I felt it, heard it, then saw it.
The water rising up, gathering strength, looming over the back of the troll.
He glanced up, face twisting in surprise, then dread, as he came face to face with his fate.
Then the water crashed down, swallowing him whole, but merely drifting under Nira’s still body, gently cradling her as the troll’s scream died on a choke.
That was it.
It was done.
She was safe.
The fog closed in tighter around my eyes.
“You bitch!” the fae snarled, releasing my throat.
I gasped for breath, but each swallow felt like glass scratching down my throat.
“Vrad!” he yelled, rushing over toward the water.
But there was no use.
The wall of death was gone.
The troll was swallowed up in the water’s depths.
Nira floated in the water, her hair dancing peacefully across the surface.
I could have commanded the water to help me. But before I could form a thought, the fae whipped back around, grabbed that limb he’d been carrying to hit Nira with before, cocked it, and swung.
Everything went dark.
—
I woke with a gasp, pain screaming through my shoulders and something biting into my wrists.
What was going on?
What hurt so bad?
It took a long moment for the unconsciousness to fade and the memories to return.
The lake.
Peace.
Enjoyment.
Then… Nira, the troll, the redhead.
The wall of water, a floating Nira, and blackness.
My head whipped up and I was looking at the back of the redheaded fae.
His arms were behind his back, some sort of fabric covering a long length of metallic chain that, when I followed it, found tightened around my wrists.
Beneath it, the flesh of my wrists were burned raw. Almost like… no.
No.
A fae wouldn’t be so cruel, would they? To use iron on another of their kind?
Even as I thought it, I knew my answer.
Yes, of course.
Many, I was sure, would do it if it meant they got whatever they selfishly desired.
Noticing the iron, though, only seemed to intensify the pain. It seemed to sear deeply, cutting into the bone, slipping into my marrow.
My blood screamed with it.
My mind scrambled.
I had to focus.
I needed to think.
“Panic will never do you any good,” Nira’s lesson came back to me. “Think past it to plan and fight.”
I sucked in deep, greedy breaths, trying to focus my attention inward, not to my wrists.
As soon as I could think straight again, it came to me.
My water.
My water could heal me.
But with both wrists bound as I was dragged through The Green, how could I get to it?
If I could just… get him to slow down or stop, I might be able to pull against my chains enough to use my hands to find the flask and pour it over my wrists.
If the pain stopped, maybe I could fight again.
A whimper escaped me as a rock scraped down my bare back, over my butt, down my thigh. I felt the burn of the cut, the warm wetness of blood, then the sting of dirt slipping into the open wounds.
I thought of trying to grab a rock with my feet and use my legs to toss it at him. But the chances of hitting him were slim, and infuriating him were high.
He turned suddenly, and there was a tree. It was young still. But with a thick, strong trunk.
I didn’t think.
There wasn’t time.
I wrapped my thigh around it, feeling the bark biting into my bare skin, creating dozens more scratches.
My other leg wrapped around, using the strongest part of my body to hold.
My upper body jerked as the fae felt resistance.
Then, turning, he let out a growl.
But he dropped my arms.
I fumbled for the flask with shaking, heavy arms, fighting to twist off the cap as I felt the fae’s hands on my upper thighs, prying hard enough for pain to course through my legs.
I fought to keep my legs around the tree, but he was stronger. Before I could react, he had both legs in his hands, looking down at me with a look that sent goosebumps rushing over my flesh as my stomach sloshed around ominously.
I knew that look.
It was the same one that man had at my lake all those years ago.
A lustful man who knew he could take whatever he wanted.
Only this time, I didn’t have my lake to protect me.
He smiled down at me as he stepped forward, pressing my thighs wide as he moved closer.
“I need to deliver you to Grimwood. But there’s no wedding for you to be pretty for now.” Still holding my legs, he dropped down to the ground, then pinned my legs with his knees. His hand went to his trousers, one sliding inside. “So I can rough you up as much as I want now.”
Sick rose up my throat as he freed himself, as his intentions became painfully clear when he reached for the scant swath of fabric covering me.
I wasn’t conscious of the decision, just of the screaming in my mind to make this stop.
But the next thing I knew, I was pressing my linked wrists right against his manhood. There was nothing between that part of him… and the iron around my wrists.
The second of contact had his body jolting like lightning coursed through him, a loud bellow erupting from him as he flew away from me.
I didn’t stop to think.
Didn’t even try to grab my flask as it fell to the dirt.
I scrambled onto all fours, then pushed myself to my feet, running as I heard something from a distance.
Someone.
Screaming my name.
They would come.
I just had to hold on for a few more minutes. Just had to keep running and—
Hands slammed into my shoulders.
With my forward momentum, there was no way to stop myself from falling forward.
I threw out my bound arms, but they collapsed under the impact, making me land face-first in the underbrush, feeling it bite into my cheek and split my lip.
But that was the least of my worries as I felt the fae pinning my legs again, the pressure enough to make me cry out.
“I can get healed,” he growled at me. “My cock will work just fine again.” He was slurring his words, spitting over me with each one. Driven mad, it seemed, with pain. Though it didn’t seem like it had been much of a leap. “But you? I don’t know if you’ll recover from this.”
His fingers scraped my skin as he grabbed the back of my panties and pulled them down, exposing me.
Then watched in horror as the other reached out, grabbing a fallen tree limb as wide as my arm and just as long.
But no.
No.
No one did that.
Did they?
I cried out when I heard him laugh.
“Yeah, this is much better,” he said, tightening his hold of the limb. “I can’t wait to hear you scream, bitch.”
I felt the scrape of the bark across my back end, knowing he was torturing me, was dragging this out until I was full of dread.
I braced myself, even though I was pretty sure there would be no way to prepare for this, to try to focus past it.
One second.
Two.
Three.
“I can’t wait to hear you scream, bitch,” a voice snarled. It was so dark, so animalistic that I didn’t recognize it at first as the weight was lifted off of me.
But it was Jet.
That was Jet.
A cry escaped me as I whipped over just in time to see Jet lifting the redheaded fae off the ground by his throat, leaving him hanging like a doll, legs kicking, as his hands grabbed at Jet’s, trying to dislodge them.
But just as the man’s face went red, Jet dropped him to the ground.
“Now scream.”
I didn’t know what I was watching, but suddenly the fae’s body went rigid, his back arching so far I wasn’t sure how he didn’t snap.
His eyes were round, nearly popping out of his skull as tears poured like rivers down his cheeks.
His skin bleached white. His hair lost its shine.
His mouth was open, frozen in a scream, but no sound escaped.
Then, and I felt like I was hallucinating because it didn’t seem possible, a small, glowing ball of light moved out of his chest and danced above Jet’s palm.
“Jet!” Vishen yelled, appearing in the clearing, his clothes drenched.
Jet exhaled hard, like he was disappointed, then he closed his hand around the globe, collapsing it, extinguishing it.
It was gone.
And the fae on the ground was still alive, but blank-eyed.
“Serin?” Vishen called, rushing toward me.
Jet turned, then ran toward me too, getting there first, dropping to his knees, and reaching for the chain.
“No!” Vishen yelled. “It’s iron.”
“I don’t give a fuck.”
“Let me,” Vishen said, shouldering Jet away as he went to grab the iron again.
Vishen sucked in a breath, then grabbed the chains. I saw the sizzle in the air, smelled the burnt flesh, but Vishen made no noise as he worked the iron free from my wrists.
I expected immediate relief when the chain fell away, but there was still the ripped-open aftermath.
“Fuck. Oh, fuck,” Jet hissed as he held my arm. He dragged my attention down to my wrists.
Or what had been the wrists I’d known.
Now, the skin was burned away.
Instead, I saw the pale, cord-like structures of my tendons and the red-pink of my muscle. But nestled deeply in the wound was a hint of white.
Bone.
I was seeing my bone.
Bile rose up my throat.
Before I could be sick, though, another voice came closer.
“Run!” Nira yelled. “We have to run.”
“Why?” Vishen asked, jumping to his feet.
Nira broke into the clearing, soaked through, but carrying my clothes and our weapons.
“A regiment is coming,” Nira, breathless, told us. “I don’t know if they heard something or what, but they’re coming. And we can’t be caught out here like this.”
“Fuck,” Jet hissed.
He leaned forward, slipping his arms under my legs and around my back, lifting me into his arms.
Then we were running.