Chapter Eighteen #2
“Well, well, well,” Wyll purrs. “What do we have here?”
Rhylen cuts his eyes at him. Wyll quickly shuts his mouth for whatever he was going to say next. Raia shakes her head. “I was sent for you. They’re meeting with Prince Cohen and the Duke now.”
“Lots to plan, lovey. Lots to plan,” Wyll speaks. He turns around, looping Raia’s arm in his, and walks swiftly down the hall.
“Whatever you have, whatever you know, might help us tonight. We might be able to reunite more families. We can bring the Cahir’s down.”
“Is that what you do here? With the other prince?”
“The Duke is kind enough to open his home up as a refuge. We work with Cohen to cross the border, set them up there. They’re free from persecution, from the slave market, from the tyrannical rule we’ve wound up in.”
“And you think I can help you?”
Rhylen stops in the middle of the hall, “I hope you can help me.”
I nod, swallowing the fear that bobs up and down in my chest. The hallways in the estate are long and dark, very unlike the Cahir estate. The Halstead’s didn’t spend needlessly and boast their riches.
The walls are stone with very tall windows that let in adequate lighting. More paintings of family scenes, childhood paintings of Ewan, and prominent battles lined the halls of the estate. It’s an interesting choice, a battle between a man and his wife to make this large castle a home.
Through two winding halls we arrive at a set of wooden double doors. Two men stand outside them. Wyll clasps one of them on their shoulders, antagonizing them for their serious faces. “Lighten up, you two. Bedtime is right around the corner.”
The two guards shake their heads and open the doors up to an expansive office. Floor to ceiling bookshelves line the wall behind Amos’ desk. In the middle of the room is an expansive table where Ewan, Amos, Argus, and Irric surround it. They all look up as we walk in.
“Found these two lounging around,” Wyll winks at Raia, who blushes and dips her head.
Argus gives me a menacing look, as if I were a temptress luring his valiant leader to a tragic death.
Ignoring him, I turn my attention to the map of Azmerin spread along the table.
It’s similar to the one Rhylen examines each night while others sleep.
Little figurines of the Royal guards are spread across the map, set up in different villages. Prince Cailean is having to send more and more soldiers to reinforce the taxes and rules he’s put in place.
His people are worn down, tired, and slowing their fight. Too many people are enslaved; too many people have been killed. I stick closely to Rhylen, unsure of where to go or why they sent for me.
“I sent a runner ahead of us to examine the village. Looks to be a small contingent of 20 to 30 men with Captain Cahir,” Amos speaks.
“We need to be careful,” Rhylen explains. “We’ve been searching for Baelur for too long to lose him now.” The men around the table nod their heads.
“Who?” I ask, confused.
Ewan looks up from the map. “My brother. He was captured by the Captain after sending some families to meet Cohen at the border.”
Cohen looks sick. “It’s been our biggest failure. They captured Baelur and slaughtered dozens of families. Whatever guards we had, they brutally murdered. Their heads piked as a warning to others.”
“Why didn’t the prince come after you here? Hasn’t he been slaughtering villages for their betrayals?”
“Our size,” Ewan replies. “He needs us, simply put.”
Rhylen looks at the clock that chimes a long arduous toll. “We’re running out of time. They’ll be done with this village before we can get to Baelur if we don’t move soon.”
“But why keep him alive? I don’t understand,” I press. Something didn’t add up. If everything was as they said, Oliver was ruthless. He was a killer. He wouldn’t be dragging Baelur around the countryside, keeping him alive. “This has to be a trap.”
Rhylen’s shoulders are tense, matching the mood around the room. “I know it is, but we can’t risk Baelur’s life any longer. If he’s alive, then it’s a risk I’m willing to take.”
“Even if it’s your life in exchange?” The air sucks out of the room. My chest feels tight and uncomfortable. I wasn’t sure why it bothered me so much that the thief would be risking his life for others, that he could be gone in the blink of an eye.
Sure, he was handsome, but there was something else there, something that I couldn’t quite put my finger on. Rhylen turns towards me. He’s so close, our chests touch.
“Do you care, love?” He gives me a sly, knowing smile. Damn him.
“I wouldn’t want the thief who claims to own me to be gone so quickly,” I snap.
“If you two love birds are done,” Irric jokes. “I’d like to get onto planning.”
Rhylen takes a step away from me. The heat of his body instantly vanishes. Part of me hates the space between us, but the more rational part of my head is screaming to get it together. I can’t be falling for the egotistical, cruel thief of my story.
“Isla and Raia will stay here,” Rhylen explains.
“What?” I interrupt. “No, I’m going with you.” I couldn’t explain why I wanted to go, why I needed to go. Maybe it’s because I need to see Oliver. I need to see his actions. Some deep-seated part of me needed Rhylen to be lying, even though I knew he wasn’t.
“No. Absolutely not. You’ll stay here.” He glowers at me. Any reasonable person would cower away from the looks he sent my way, but I couldn’t. I jut my chin out, standing firm on wanting to go.
“You’re so dead set on proving to me that he’s the monster instead of you. Let me go.”
“Haven’t I done that, though? Or is one village not enough?”
“Let me go,” I plead. I’d never be able to explain to him why I needed to go, why I had to continue to see what Oliver and Prince Cailean were doing. I had to do something.
“Who is it that haunts your dreams at night?” Rhylen asks. The question throws me off. My mouth drops, but I recover in an instant. “Is it him? Or is it them?”
“That doesn’t concern you,” I snap.
“Ahhh, love, but it does. Why should I agree to let you go when the terrors keep haunting you at night? Why would I want to make that worse?”
“Why do you even care?”
“Call it,” he pauses. “Curiosity.”
“Curiosity has never done anyone good.”
“Exactly. Curiosity has never done anyone any good, so you coming with is futile. It’s dangerous. I can’t let you risk it. You’re mine, why would I needlessly throw your life into danger? I’m not in the habit of tossing your life into unnecessary harm.”
“Let me go,” I demand again, ignoring his claim and how it makes my stomach flip. We stare down at each other in silence for what feels like hours. Eventually, I win out.
“Oh, come on now, Rhylen,” Wyll cackles. “She wants to see her little captain. Just let her. She might come in handy.”
Rhylen’s eyes darken with hate, causing Wyll to laugh harder. He’s silent as he mulls over his options.
“Fine, but you listen,” Rhylen finally relents. “You do exactly what I say. If I tell you to run, you run. If I tell you to turn around, you do it. Got it?”
I nod. Wyll rubs his hands together in excitement. “Let’s go torment the captain again, shall we?”