Chapter 17
Eli
Of course the Captain of the Honor Guard wasn’t about to steal away with me like a teenage girl from a backwater village.
What on earth had I been thinking to even suggest it?
Shame burned my cheeks—and, no doubt, he’d be able to smell my humiliation.
And so I kept myself to myself that night and tried to calm down enough to slip into my mask.
Except that old persona, the one that cared for nothing but revenge, no longer fit quite right. Like the tunic that now tugged where the fire had shrunk the threads, my righteous anger didn’t feel like mine anymore. Instead, I felt hurt. Which was infinitely worse.
And before I’d fully recovered from that inconvenient emotion, Kof’s master was upon us.
The walls of the snow cave had thinned overnight, once the sky stopped reinforcing it with fresh snow. One wall had partially collapsed. And through the gap, the unmistakable silhouette of approaching orcs was backlit by the rising sun.
“Aha, there you are.” The shaman’s voice boomed so loud, bits of snow broke off from the ceiling and pattered to the ground.
And then the big orc’s nostrils flared. “Apparently, you kept yourself warm enough waiting for the storm to break. Anyway, you’ll be glad to hear our hunters bagged a healthy boar—tusks nearly as big as yours!
Our provisions won’t be gutted clean by those—”
He stopped himself mid-thought with a quick glance over his shoulder.
Then, a familiar voice dashed my hopes like a stone plunging through thin ice. “So you did find shelter from the cold.” Pilgrim stepped forward, his face a picture of false concern. “I was worried about our human companion. You know how weak and fragile they are.”
My stomach churned. He was supposed to be back at the village. Having his toadies keep watch on me hadn’t been enough for him. He’d risked exposure as the one in authority to show up himself.
“I came to make sure you were safe,” Pilgrim continued, his eyes never leaving mine. “It’s time to come home.”
Home. The word was a mockery, and his meaning was clear. You’re mine. And you’re not going anywhere. The look of satisfaction on his face said it all…but then his nostrils flared, and the light in his eyes shifted, going even more brittle.
He could smell what we’d done here. They all could. But unlike the shaman, who’d thought nothing of it, Pilgrim most definitely cared. And despite the fact that he’d ordered me to seduce Kof…now he was angry.
Pilgrim plastered on a smile as cold as the snow outside, and gestured for me to join him. “The human is our responsibility. We wouldn’t want to burden the Red Hand Clan any further.”
Kof opened his mouth, about to speak, but Droko cut him off. “Come on, then, we need to get our kill back to the village. Before the wolves get scent of it.” He nodded toward shore.
Pilgrim curled an arm around me. His voice was a low growl in my ear. “The captain has had his fun. Now there’s nothing left of you to interest him.”
A shiver ran down my spine that had nothing to do with the weather.
The way Pilgrim had spoken…it wasn’t a threat, not exactly.
It was an observation, laced with a cruel satisfaction that turned my stomach.
He was right. I’d given Kof what he wanted—what I thought we both wanted—and now I was just… empty.
The thought of returning to that stifling little house with Pilgrim filled me with a despair so profound I could barely breathe.
The brief flicker of connection I’d felt with Kof had been snuffed out, leaving only sodden ashes.
I was an idiot to think anything could change—to believe, even for a moment, that I could have hope in this barbaric place.
A few trees had been felled to span the gap between the island and shore. With a shudder of resignation, I trudged alongside Pilgrim to cross it. The wind coursed along the river, a mournful howl that echoed the emptiness inside me. I didn’t look back.
There was no point.