5. Chapter 4
Chapter 4
M y rest was fitful, drifting in and out. Murmured voices tugged me to awareness just as a horrible stench tainted my senses, and I sank into darkness.
When I finally came to, my face banged against something warm and firm. Thoughts blurred and foggy, I groaned, willing my sluggish body to move, though it didn’t respond. As I lifted my head, my neck gave out, slamming me into that thing again, bloodying my lip.
“Hold!”
Curse it all. I knew that voice.
The swaying motion halted. A horse? It stamped its foreleg, jarring me. A bit of horsehair worked its way inside my mouth, and I struggled to spit it out. I attempted to pull my arm down–
My hands wouldn’t move.
I thrashed, wriggling to regain control of my body as Sainte dismounted. The beast snorted, shifting with a nervous whicker, and my heart stuttered with panic.
Sainte pulled me headfirst off the horse, catching me in strong arms. My head lolled back, and I was sure dried drool crusted my face as I peered into his eyes.
“Mmm ghill voo!” Funny how drugs could muddle death threats.
His lips pressed into a firm line, and he ignored my slur. He held me snug against his disgustingly muscular chest, carrying me to the road’s edge. I caught a glimpse of his men on horseback, waiting patiently in the warm sun.
“Can you move your legs?” he asked.
A sparse forest lined the path. The thin foliage blocked the sunlight as we passed the treeline. My glare intensified as a tingling sensation coursed through my limbs, promising a slow return of my control. With a valiant attempt at kicking a boot toward his head, my leg lifted in a pathetic, limp swing.
“Good. Take the time you need to relieve yourself, then we’ll be on our way.”
He spoke as if this was a common everyday occurrence. As if he expected me to be accustomed to waking up sprawled across a horse like a sack of potatoes, unable to move or speak.
He set me down at the base of a tree, straining a bit with the effort.
“Mmmans,” I grunted.
“Hmm?”
“ Mmmans! ”
I attempted to shift enough to wag my fingers at him. Unfortunately, I hadn’t regained complete control over my core. When I turned, my weight pulled me over into a fern. I slurred a plethora of curses, spitting at the plant.
“Hands. Right.”
The rope around my wrists fell away, and my arms dropped to my sides. I took a moment, flopping like a fish out of water before I got them under me to push myself upright.
I struggled, limbs shaking as I propped against the tree. “You’ll ay fr’tha,” I snarled.
“I’m sure I will, just not now.” He shrugged, angling his small blade at the ground. “I’m going to be on the other side.” He patted the oak I leaned against, loosening some of the bark. “Don’t try anything.”
“Me?”
I massaged the sore skin on my wrists, giving him my most innocent smile. My lashes fluttered to top it off. Though, in my current state, it probably looked as if the drug he used affected my brain .
He stood with a grunt and rubbed at the bloody bandage on his arm. With another stern look, he stepped around the tree, out of my line of sight.
Slander and insults spilled from my mouth as I struggled to stand. I had to have been out for quite some time—my bladder was screaming. My plan to kill Sainte would have to wait.
“You snathd me away!” I stumbled a step, catching myself on the tree before I toppled. “You idnappd me lie a ‘ommon fief!”
I worked on my trousers, confident he would at least give me privacy.
“I understand your reservation—”
No, I don’t think he did.
“—but this has to be done. It’s not about what you or I want. There’s a bigger picture, Elspeth.”
I screeched as I tumbled over in my crouch, landing in my piss. I threw my head back, ensuring he stayed put, and cursed loud enough to wake the dead. Furious, I thrashed, pulling my trousers over my hips. They were soaked in a vile mix of urine and mud, adding to my already questionable decorum and lovely scent.
My cursing paused only to take a breath as I rolled to the side, grappling to stand. Sainte gripped my arm and hauled me to my feet, supporting my precarious balance.
“And here I thought you couldn’t reek any worse.”
I dropped my weight, and he grunted, struggling to brace me at the odd angle. He glanced at me and I matched his glare.
“Stand.”
“No.”
“Petty brat,” he growled, then drove his shoulder into my stomach.
My breath huffed out in a gust as he lifted me off the ground, but I took pleasure knowing I got piss-mud all over the front of his armor. Every step back to the road sent a jolt of pain through my middle, and it was almost worth it until I heard the soldiers’ muffled snickers.
“You ride with me, or I’ll carry you as the burden you are,” Sainte hissed.
I managed to wriggle enough to ram my knee into his chest, eliciting a satisfying grunt. In return, he dumped me onto the ground near his horse. I peered up at the white beast towering overhead. One misstep from those massive hooves, and I’d live with it for the rest of my life.
Before I realized what was happening, Sainte pressed a cloth over my face, gripping the back of my head. I gagged on the putrid stench, jerking and clawing at his hands. In seconds, my limbs fell like limp noodles, and my mind slipped away in a foggy breeze. The last thing I saw was Sainte’s conflicted frown.
I drifted awake, finding myself in a much more agreeable position despite the throbbing pulse in my skull. I lay on a blanket spread on the ground, my head propped up on a saddle. Bile surged up my throat, and I threw myself onto my side, retching all over the tack.
Someone gripped my shoulders as I panted, rolling me to puke on the green grass instead. I moaned as my stomach settled, but my headache thrummed as it did in the bell tower during the midday prayers.
“Water,” Sainte murmured.
I spit to the side and let his strong hands resettle me against the saddle—hopefully not in the puke. When the waterskin pressed to my lips, my eyes fluttered open. Sainte crouched beside me with Urien standing close behind, features drawn into a frown. Dusk’s golden sheen dimmed the daylight, and small tents littered the clearing .
I gulped the cool water, letting it wash the sting of bile from my mouth and throat. My brain was slow to register my surroundings as he pulled the waterskin away with a wince.
“I told you she’d come to,” Urien sighed, shaking his head.
I peered at him through heavy eyelids. It was hard work to wake up only to eject the contents of one’s stomach.
Sainte grunted and stood, keeping his injured arm tucked against his chest, stiff and unmoving. Urien glanced at him before some silent order sent him off to the others huddled together eating a cold meal.
“Grimm will take you to relieve yourself,” Sainte said.
I groaned and closed my eyes. Would the torture never end?
“You’ve been out for three days, Elspeth.”
I squinted at the back of his armor. Was that guilt I heard? With a sigh, he left me, joining the others. He settled on a log, speaking to his men in hushed tones.
Every part of me ached—arms, neck, legs, even my toes were sore. Stiffness and fatigue enveloped me. My wrists were raw, pinned behind me with tight ropes. A throbbing headache accompanied my growling stomach. Gods, I was hungry, but the mere thought of food reignited the nausea in my gut.
And I had to piss.
Three days was a long time to go without relieving oneself.
Grimm stomped over and picked me up as if I was nothing more than a babe. I sighed in resignation, refusing to take my anger out on this man. He chose to follow Sainte’s lead, driven by a desire to see his country thrive. I couldn’t fault him for that.
“Do you often steal women out of their beds?” I rasped as he carried me away from the small camp.
He chuckled, the deep tenor rumbling through his chest. “This’d be a first, I’d say.”
“It’s not a great habit,” I muttered.
He set me down, out of the camp’s view. “I shan’t make it a common occurrence then.”
His teeth gleamed with a bright smile, and I huffed, stumbling a step away. He spoke with an odd cadence, as if High Wynter was not his first language. Perhaps he was not from the palace. The nobles in Tilamuik communicated differently than the Common Muik in Meeds. Still, I understood him enough to make sense of his words.
“Need help?”
“Gods, no,” I shot back, prompting an amused smirk.
I turned, waving my fingers, hoping he would be so kind as to remove the rope. He obliged, untying it rather than cutting it. A sigh of relief escaped me as the cool air brushed against the open wounds on my wrists. I shook them out, and the motion shifted my balance. With palms pressed to a nearby tree, I steadied myself to avoid collapsing. After a moment, I braved a few steps, tripping on a twig.
“Don’t go far, not so many friendlies in these parts,” Grimm warned.
I waved over my shoulder in acknowledgement.
Once I managed a safe distance, I took care of my needs, then settled against a tree, glad to not have ended up in my piss this time.
Had I truly been out for three days? Headed north, I assumed. Depending on our route, we might be near Landing’s End. That road was populated with travelers. Surely there would be plenty of inns to rest in along the way instead of setting up camp.
I wasn’t stupid. I was well aware I couldn’t manage the trek back on foot. Even if I slipped off into the dark, Sainte had horses and a handful of soldiers. I was one woman—one tired, hungry woman that wouldn’t make it far.
If we were a three days ride in, that meant at least six of walking, if not closer to nine. I couldn’t set traps or scavenge for food in the wild—I was a city girl. I’d have to rely on relieving travelers of their goods to survive.
Those odds were less than appealing.
Yet, what was my alternative? Return to Wynterborne to be used as a pawn? Wear fancy dresses and pretend to be royalty?
My options were miserable either way.
I needed more time, perhaps an opportunity to lodge at an inn where I could secure a horse and some coin. Surely, we wouldn’t be camping along the road for the entire journey. They’d have to restock their stores or re-shoe their horses eventually. I decided to wait for that opportunity and seize it when it came. Traveling in this state would be too risky.
“Oi, Princess?”
Ugh.
I pushed myself to my feet and wandered back to Grimm, stumbling only because I couldn’t see in the dark. The moon cast his silhouette, but little else. As he moved, I squinted, realizing he had offered his arm. At least he knew how to treat a woman.
My hand found the crook of his elbow, and I let him lead me back. I picked my feet up high as I walked to avoid ending up on my face. At the camp, I grimaced as he returned me to the spot that reeked of vomit.
I settled in and crossed my legs, watching as Sainte rinsed puke off the saddle. The moonlight was feeble, casting uncertain shadows. He’d likely miss a few spots.
Good.
“Eat.” He jerked his head toward the corner of the blanket, where a small portion of food waited for me .
I prodded at it, uncertain. “Could be poisoned.”
“No point in killing you now.”
I pressed my lips and nodded. He had me there. I palmed the dried meat and hard biscuit. The bread felt more like a rock than anything edible. How appetizing.
I ate, or rather gnawed, until my jaw ached, then swallowed. My stomach settled with every bite I forced down.
Sainte spread out the horse blanket and glanced between what I presumed was his bedroll, where I sat, and the blanket. I shifted my weight, smearing in whatever stink I could as I grinned, hoping my teeth were visible in the dark.
Choose your smelly options, Captain.
With a sigh, he reclined on the horse blanket, his lower half draped along the cold grass. He bent one leg at the knee, running his fingers through his hair. I stared, feeling a twinge low in my belly.
No. There would be no thoughts on his good looks. No resurrections of any childhood crushes. I was beyond that.
“So, to Wynterborne?” I asked.
He closed his eyes and dropped his hand over his belly, keeping his right arm stiff against his chest. “Yes.”
“Where are we now?”
“Thinking of running?”
I scoffed, then rested my head on the clean part of the saddle, gazing up at the starry sky. “Even I know I wouldn’t make it back.”
There was a grunt of agreement, then he went quiet.
Don’t do it.
Don’t, El.
“Will your arm be all right?”
His amused snort sent a wave of self-disgust rolling over me. I wasn’t worried. He deserved what he got. Right, I’d just keep telling myself that.
“I’ve suffered worse.”
“Ethyan is a decent shot.”
“I can vouch for that.”
I chuckled, a small smile pulling at my lips.
“You know how we met?” I didn’t wait for his reply. “Not long after I arrived in Port Siren, I stumbled into trouble with a bad lot at a tavern. They bested me of my coin, and I was about to lose the shirt off my back when Ethyan intervened, winning a game of knife toss. He and Lyana managed to win enough to keep me from going hungry, and I’ve been with them ever since.”
Sainte was silent, either waiting for me to go on or he had fallen asleep.
“I guess when you want a family, you’ll build it with anyone you find,” I breathed, studying the night .
Stars twinkled, blue and purple streaks above, illuminated by the moon. I had a vague recollection of the night in Wynterborne being more vibrant. In my memories, the northern sky swarmed with bright auroras, dancing streams of green and blue.
“I left you with a family.”
Apparently, he hadn’t fallen asleep.
“You dumped me in a house as a burden and inconvenience, Sainte. Sure, I had food and a roof overhead, but that was all. I was surviving, not thriving.”
“I suppose running the streets and thieving is where you thrived.”
Annoyed, I rolled onto my side and squinted at his shadowy figure. “You don’t get it. I didn’t fit in—wasn’t welcome. There was no kindness in Landing’s End, aside from you—then you left.”
“Strange, I remember you being the one to leave.”
“You walked away first.”
Heavy silence lapsed, and I flopped onto my back. Now was not the time to hash this out. I wanted to lash out, to make him feel the same pain he caused me.
“I had to.”
“So you’ve said,” I spat. I didn’t want to talk to him anymore.
“I had to secure my position at the palace. Without that, your return would’ve been impossible.”
“Just a tool,” I muttered. How had I ever found this man charming?
I scrunched my face to keep from getting sappy. He did not deserve my tears. I could hold myself together. He saw me as a pawn, using gifts to sway my loyalty. Butter me up so I’d blindly follow his lead.
His voice dropped to a low rumble. “Do you know what I did when I returned on your seventeenth birthday?”
I didn’t grace him with a reply.
But, gods , how I wanted to know.
“I tore Landing’s End apart. Didn’t rest, didn’t sleep. I scoured whorehouses and slums, searched the common man’s graves. I hunted for three weeks, Elspeth.”
“Because your pawn was gone.”
“Because the girl I… cared for was gone.”
Pig guts.
My heart twitched in response to his words, the fragmented shards trying to fuse together. I didn’t care about him. Not one bit. Nothing he could say would ever take away the hurt he caused.
“Why didn’t you stay?” I whispered, half-hoping he wouldn’t hear me.
There was a pregnant pause before he spoke again .
“I faced a flogging if I arrived late. As a recruitment officer, I had three months of leave before my scheduled return. With four weeks of relentless riding to reach Landing’s End, and the need to gather soldiers, I had no evenings to spare.”
“Not one?” I pressed.
“Not one.”
My heart twisted, and I curled into myself. For once in my life, I wasn’t sure he was telling me the truth.