Chapter Twenty
Isla
I examine the mahogany brown eyes in front of me.
His promise of safety echoes in my head.
It’s one so familiar, but so different at the same time.
Oliver’s promises of safety were always transactional, always coming at a price.
Anger pushes my wavering lack of confidence away.
I turn away from Rhylen and back to my reflection in the small mirror.
My breasts threaten to spill out of the deep neckline.
Rhylen squeezes my hips before finishing lacing up the deep red gown.
He doesn’t attempt to hide the lust that fills his gaze. Butterflies flutter in my stomach. I hate the effect he has on me. It’s his looks. His damn looks, I remind myself, and not the words he spills or the steps he’s made to prove himself. Any woman would be a sucker for a pretty face.
“Perfect. Absolutely perfect.”
My cheeks heat at his praise. I glance at him in the mirror. My eyes fall to his lips, remembering the feel of his lips on mine. The heat, the passion that practically took my breath away.
I resist the urge to touch mine at the memory that likes to repeat over and over in my mind. The stark difference in what that kiss was to past kisses from different lovers. So different than the man who is supposed to love me.
“The scars show,” I tell him, avoiding his gaze.
He turns me around to face him. Lifting my chin up by a knuckle, he stares at me with knitted brows. “Aye, bits of your scars show. Do you know what they say?”
I close my eyes for a second, unwilling to look at him. Thoughts of my Nightmare Oliver being disgusted at them, ring in my head. Rhylen’s voice is raspy when he speaks. “That you’ve survived. And you’ll survive again, love. Trust me.”
Stepping away from him, I make my way towards the bedroom. I need the space before I do something reckless, like throw myself at him. “This better work, thief.”
“We’ll be back at Halstead estate before first light, love.” He says as he closes the distance I tried to create. He drapes the burgundy cape back over my shoulders, covering the revealing dress and the scars that continue to haunt me.
“Ready?” Wyll asks as he stands. Nervousness flits through my chest, but I tamp it down.
“As I’ll ever be,” I reply. We slip out of the Inn undetected, making our way towards the jail they’re housing Baelur in. The air is tense with anxiety that wafts from the men in front of me.
Wyll and Irric fiddle with the quiver straps that hang across their chests. Rhylen wears a murderous look, as if the next person to cross his path is a dead man. Argus is the only one that doesn’t have an outward tell of uncomfortableness. He just pads along behind his friends.
Rhylen stops abruptly down a back alley. The cobblestone path is filthy. There’s a stench in the air that has me catching my breath.
Irric and Wyll dip down a different path. Rhylen turns towards me, “This is it. All I need you to do is walk in front of that door and the men will come to you. Trust me.”
I blow out a breath. I can do this. Taking off the burgundy hood, I stand a little taller. Rhylen gently brushes the hair out of my face. “It’ll be over before you know it,” he whispers. Argus scoffs.
Rhylen and Argus disappear into the dark alley. I take a deep breath, shaking the anxiety out of my chest. I can do this. I agreed to this, I remind myself. A guard stands with his back leaned against the doorframe. I walk past them, looking around.
“Ya lost, miss?” The guard calls out. I turn around, schooling my facial features to look shocked and worried.
“Please, help me. I think I’ve got turned around,” I plead. I dip my head in embarrassment and grip my skirts. The guard stomps towards me. Alcohol wafts from him, causing my stomach to churn.
“Ahh,” he groans. “A fine lass such as yaself shouldn’ be out this late.” His friend leaps out the door and bounds towards us.
“Whachyou got Ernie?” He calls out.
“Just a friend here. She’s lost her way.” Ernie, the guard, chuckles. His hands grip my face, tilting it up so he could see better.
“A shame, a beauty like this be all alone in the world.” The other guard exclaims.
“Where are ya going?” Ernie asks.
“I- I lost my friends,” I stutter, letting the nervousness take over. “I’m just trying to get back.” I pull at my hair, twirling it in my fingers.
“Why don’t you come inside with us?”
“Oh,” I exclaim. “I probably shouldn’t. With all those men in there? That wouldn’t be too proper would it.” I twist my hands, leaning into them so they have a better view. Ernie’s eyes track right down to my chest. Idiot. He doesn’t bother to hide his satisfaction and lust.
“Don’t worry about that, sweetheart. There’s only us two,” the friend nods to Ernie.
“Just the two of you?” I repeat, eyes wide.
“For the next three hours,” Ernie nods.
“Perfect.”
They never saw Rhylen and Argus slip up behind them before the daggers sliced their necks. The two guards drop like a sack of potatoes onto the ground. Argus heaves them deeper into the alley, shielding them from anyone walking by.
“That really is your preferred method of death, isn’t it?” I ask Rhylen, nausea churning in my gut.
“Depends,” he shrugs. Rhylen swipes the blood off his dagger and quickly sheathes it. He tosses me the burgundy cape. “Throw this back on. You’re distracting.”
Rhylen makes his way into the jail while Argus stands at the door. It’s a dark, musty room with two iron cells. There’s a desk in the far corner with papers and a set of keys. A man lay on the cot. His skin is bruised and bloody. The sight of him steals my breath.
“Baelur,” Rhylen whispers. I move towards the desk to grab the ring of keys.
“Here,” I say lightly. Rhylen grabs the keys, shoving one after the other into the lock until it clicks. Swinging the door open, he barges in.
“Baelur,” Rhylen calls again. The man groans.
“By the Fates. Argus! Send the signal to Irric and Wyll. We’ll need them.
” Argus takes off out the door. Rhylen looks panicked as he looks over his friend.
His face is barely recognizable. Deep gashes line his stomach.
Some have crusted over, some are gaping.
The twins come rushing in, startling Rhylen. “Fates, Baelur,” Wyll curses.
“Hurry, we need to move him,” Rhylen barks.
“We’ve got the horses, but I don’t know if he can ride, Rhylen. He’s in worse shape than we thought,” Irric warns.
Rhylen’s mouth tightens as he looks back at his friend, “he’s going to have to.”
Wyll and Ewan grab Baelur’s shoulders. They haul him off the dirty cot and rush towards the door. I follow, terror gripping my insides. The five horses we rode in on are waiting by the door. Oliver comes running around the corner, three men in his wake. The sight of him has me pausing at the door.
“Move, love. You have to move,” Rhylen pushes me forward. My heart drops to the bottom of my stomach. How long has it been since I’ve seen him? What would he think? The idiot guard’s words echo in my head.
He’s been visiting brothels. He doesn’t love you. Anger replaces the angst of facing him. I move to Fia, but it’s too late. That split second of hesitation cost us.
“ISLA,” Oliver shouts. He sounds desperate to get to me. Rhylen roughly grabs my hips and throws me on top of Fia. He follows shortly after. Irric mounted his horse, waiting for Wyll and Ewan to throw Baelur over his legs. The man’s head hangs limply.
“Halt,” Oliver shouts. The guards that flank them have their arrows aimed at us. He signals them to hold. “Hood,” he spits. “Release her.”
“Forgive me,” Rhylen whispers in my ear, before he yanks me into him. A dagger is held against my throat. “Take another step and I’ll slice her pretty throat.”
Fury fills Oliver’s eyes. He vibrates in anger as he tells his guards to stand down. “Let her go. She doesn’t belong to you.”
Rhylen chuckles, gripping me tighter. “That’s where you’re wrong, Captain.”
“I’ll come for you, Isla. I promise,” Oliver swears. A chill runs up my spine. I find myself hoping that’s one promise he never fulfills. Not anymore.
Rhylen kicks Fia forward, just as more guards round the corner. They nock arrows and let them fly. Rhylen encases me in him, pulling me closer to him in the saddle. “Keep your head down,” he grunts.
We ride down the cobblestone paths. Shouting from guards sounds off all around us. Rhylen urges Fia to go faster as we wind down dark back alleys. Irric, Wyll, Ewan, and Argus follow closely behind us.
“We need to split up,” Argus shouts. “I’ll distract them. Get him out of here. I’ll see you when I can.” He takes off before any of us can argue with him. Three guards follow him. The village gates are in view. Five guards stand, waiting for us.
“There’s too many,” I shout. “We won’t make it.”
Wyll gallops beside us. He winks at me, before gathering the reins in one hand. He tucks them underneath a leg, whips out an arrow from his quiver and nocking it on his bow.
He stands up in the stirrups, drawing the arrow back, he rapidly fires on the guards. Two fall back-to-back. Ewan joins him in firing. They balance on their horses, taking the guards out one arrow at a time.
We flee out of the gates. The guards stop their chase at the entrance of the village.
Orders to stop us, to do whatever it takes to make sure we don’t pass the gates ring out, but the guards don’t move forward.
I wrench my neck around, trying to peer over Rhylen’s large arms. Oliver rages behind us, screaming about incompetent soldiers.
I can’t stand to hear the man that’s haunting my dreams be the nightmare he really is.
The next hour is filled with silence as we ride farther and farther away from the occupied village. Finally, we get to The Coarann Grove, and I break the silence. “Are we going to discuss what the hell you were thinking?”
Rhylen chuckles, “about what?”
“The blade, thief. How dare you.”
“I needed to see.”
“Needed to see what?”
“How far his love went.”