Chapter 39
THIRTY-NINE
ARYELLA
No one will ever deserve your heart. But if you choose to give it to him, swear to me you’ll make him earn it.
—FROM THE BUTCHER OF NYRIDA’S LAST KNOWN LETTERS TO QUEEN ARYELLA I
I slept curled up beneath my blanket on my mat with my back to Elias and prayed I didn’t talk or scream in my sleep. When I woke up, he had already eaten breakfast.
“Good morning,” he muttered without looking up from where he stood beside the horse.
“Morning.” I fixed my hair into a quick braid and scarfed down some more jerky. My stomach was still a little uneasy, my muscles still weak from healing Elias, but I felt better than the night before.
“How many more hours of riding did you say until we get there?” I slid my arms through my jacket and slung my bag over my shoulder.
“About three. Here.” He reached for my bag and fastened it to the saddle next to his own.
“Thank—”
“If I came on a little strong last night, I’m sorry,” he rushed out. He winced at his own apology, like giving it hurt him.
“Don’t worry.” I didn’t like feeling serious around him, so I tried to lighten the mood by walking over and giving his shoulder a gentle pat and joking, “We can’t all be irresistible.”
He grabbed my wrist and pulled me closer. “I’m serious.” His proximity, combined with my lack of control, sent my body into a panic.
“Alcohol was involved,” I calmly responded. “I think you were a little drunk, but nothing happened.”
He frowned at my rambling, searching my eyes for answers I wouldn’t give him. “I wasn’t drunk, and you called me Elias yesterday. You still can, if you want. Or Eli. What my friends call me.”
“Is that what I am?” I retorted. “Your friend?”
“If you want to be.” His finger brushed my hand, making my stomach leap in unwelcome ways. “Call me Eli, Fera.”
My nose, eyes, and throat ached with emotion, perhaps because his suggestion felt like a threat to my loyalty. I felt heat and desire from him, for him. Even after rejecting him, the sensations were there, and I didn’t want them to be.
But I still wanted to win him over, and being his friend wasn’t unappealing.
“Fine,” I answered bitterly.
His sharp jaw ticked in irritation. “Fine?” he scoffed, reaching into his bag and tossing my canteen of water against my chest. “Fine,” he repeated, shaking his head. “I refilled your water for you in a nearby creek I know is safe.”
Was fine not enough? How could he be mad about that? I had every right to set a boundary with him, or anyone. He didn’t own me.
We left without a word and rode for a few hours. I searched for hoof tracks or any other signs of someone recently traveling through, but there were none. Nature—green and breezy—was peaceful and unbothered.
“If he’s not where you think he’ll be, what’s the plan?” I asked.
“He’ll be there.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I’m usually right,” he answered tersely.
Thankfully, he couldn’t see me roll my eyes as we reached the edge of a massive ridge and began to ascend. The incline wasn’t too steep for the horse, but I could tell by its slowing gait that it struggled.
“We should let him rest,” I suggested when we reached the long, flat, tree-covered ridge that stretched north. The horse drudged along slowly. Before Eli could object, I tucked my knee behind him and dismounted so he either had to halt or leave me behind.
I rested my hands on my hips and took in the breathtaking vision before me. We were high enough to see the green, rolling hills to the east and snow-capped mountains to the northwest. The area reminded me a bit of the Wymaran highlands, just less rocky.
“There!” Eli barked, ceasing to feed and water the horse.
He pointed to a cluster of trees where a man stood beside a horse, looking right at us.
I couldn’t make out his features at this distance, but it had to be Finch.
We stood still for what felt like minutes, the air thick with anticipation.
The moment Finch moved to mount his horse, Eli leapt up on ours and reached for me. “Let’s go!”
I accepted his arm and let him swing me onto the back of the horse as we took off in a rapid chase.
Our speed caused the world around me to blur.
I had no choice but to grip the sides of Eli’s jacket to avoid falling off.
The last time I’d ridden a horse this fast had been the black mare in Tovick, on my birthday.
“I will chase you to the ends of the earth, Aryella.”
I winced at the throbbing ache in my chest. Now wasn’t the time for sweet nostalgia, and he would agree.
“We need to bring him back alive!” Eli called over his shoulder. “We’ll have to find a way to stop him without killing him.” I tried to see over him, but I was too small. For the first time this entire trip, I kicked myself for not sitting in front.
“Get us close!” I shouted over the pounding of hooves and the whipping wind. “I’ll leap onto his horse and bring him down.”
“Are you insane?” Eli shouted.
“Do you have a better idea?” I shouted back.
“I’ll do it.”
“You’re injured,” I reminded him, sliding backward on the saddle. “You can’t do this with a wounded arm.”
“Fera, if you die, I swear to the gods I will?—”
“Do you trust me or not?” I gripped his shoulders and lifted one knee, then repositioned myself into a half squat on the saddle. I didn’t want him to finish his thought. Part of me hoped he cared. The other part of me didn’t want to know.
“Fucking hell.” His mutter was barely audible. “Fine!”
“If I succeed, do I get an automatic pass on the third test?”
“Ha!” he laughed. “You wish!”
When I giggled in response, I told myself it was my body’s attempt to fend off the nerves.
Finch rode a smaller brown mare with less speed and stamina than the white stallion.
“Finch!” Eli roared as we gained on him. “Stop, or we’ll make you!”
We didn’t slow down. Finch hadn’t heeded the warning. At least all my training earlier this year was paying off. A few times, I thought I was about to fall, but my boot on the saddle and my grip on Eli steadied me as we surged on through the field.
“Are you sure about this?” shouted Eli. We trailed a full horse’s length behind Finch. Another thirty seconds and we’d be close enough to touch.
“I’m sure,” I lied. Hitting the ground under the weight of Draven Finch’s body was going to hurt like hell. No broken bones would be a blessing. No bruises would be a miracle.
Eli pushed the stallion into one last burst of speed. We crawled up beside Finch, our horses nearly touching now. I lifted my other boot to the saddle and, with one powerful push, leapt off with Finch as my target.
I was flying and free, then my body hit Finch’s like a bird to a stone wall and the air tore from my lungs. I wrapped my arms around his neck and legs around his torso, holding on for dear life as he grunted and thrashed.
“Fucking crazy?—”
“Shut up!” I snapped, wrapping my arm around his neck. “Let go of the reins, Finch!”
“What are you going to do if I don’t?” Finch laughed maniacally. “Kill me?”
My blade was unsheathed and pressed into his cheek within seconds. “Maybe I will.”
“Fera!” Eli’s warning caused Finch to startle just enough to give me a gap. My forearm strained against his neck as my feet found leverage on the saddle. I pushed with all the strength I possessed. Finch’s grip on the reins came free, and we fell backward.
I tossed the knife so we wouldn’t land on it, twisted enough to avoid landing beneath him, and let my body go limp. When we hit the ground, I was struck by an all-consuming wave of pain. Groaning, I rolled a few feet before sliding to a stop and watching the brown horse flee in my periphery.
The impact sent pain radiating into my stomach, but I thanked the Selvaren for the fresh, soft grass that cushioned our fall, because nothing had cracked .
Still, I knew that the next time I stood naked before a mirror, the bruises on my back and legs would be more colorful than a shrine to the gods.
I rose to all fours, then I dizzily stood up, rolling my landing shoulder to ensure it wasn’t dislocated. Eli jumped down from the halted white stallion and had Finch face down on the ground, knee to his back, before I could wipe the dirt and grass off my front.
“You brought that bitch?” Finch spat and bucked beneath his captor, but it was no use.
“Stay down , Finch!” Eli tied Finch’s hands behind his back with rope. Finch winced when he pulled it brutally tight. “You knew better than to run.”
I watched in horror as Eli withdrew a small brass tube from his back pocket, pulled a cap off one end with his teeth. He pulled out a thin metal needle roughly two to three inches in length and stabbed it into the side of Finch’s neck.
“What is that?” I rushed forward on aching legs. “What are you doing to him?”
“It’s a drug. Calm down. It just puts him to sleep,” Eli answered, while slowly easing himself off Finch’s back as the serum did its work. Finch’s body fell limp in seconds. Eli quickly retrieved the runaway horse then hoisted Finch over its back.
“How long until he wakes up?” I asked.
Eli tied Finch’s limp form to the horse in a way that if Finch tried to escape, he’d fall off and get dragged. He then mounted the white stallion and offered me his arm. “Guess we’ll find out.”
The journey back to the fortress was tense but uneventful.
With Finch in tow, the trip back took us longer.
Eli spent most of it preoccupied with watching our prisoner, who remained tied up and under the influence of whatever drug he’d been given.
He woke only once in a panic, begging to be set free.
Eli stabbed him in the neck with another syringe, and he fell unconscious.
I remained silent behind Eli on the stallion. My stomach wouldn’t settle, and my brain felt like it was pounding against my skull. The entire ride back felt a little hazy. I spent a good portion of it trying not to fall off.