Chapter 4 #2
The owner of the voice pulled up to our left side, which I faced. While he seemed to be slightly shorter than Harthon, he had a similar muscular build. His tousled hair was a muted red, his eyes were a sparkling green, and his clean-shaven face was all angles and symmetrical lines.
He was handsome. Pretty, even.
“He is also overconfident, which we should be careful of becoming,” Harthon replied, giving the other man a hard look.
The soldier wasn’t affected. Instead, he grinned, the expression utterly boyish. “It isn’t overconfidence if there is evidence of success.”
“Callen, shut your mouth.”
I spun my head around toward a harsh, gravelly voice, finding a man riding on our right.
This one was the opposite of the pretty one, a shaved head, full light brown beard, withering scowl, and smear of dried blood across his cheek making him more animal than man.
Two axes were strapped across his back, both ends still covered in blood.
Harthon might be well-built, but this man was overly wide with muscle.
“Don’t be mean. You’re giving a horrible first impression to the pretty lady,” Callen said, and I turned back to him. He winked.
Winked. My mouth parted.
“As if I give a fuck,” the bearded man drawled.
“Exc—”
“Not another word,” Harthon rumbled, cutting the green-eyed man off.
Callen rolled his eyes. “Always have to ruin the fun,” he muttered, falling behind us once more.
I waited for Harthon to react to the insult. All he did was subtly shake his head in annoyance. That was it.
Confusion mixed with frustration. Did his “no tolerance for disrespect” policy only apply to me?
Harthon lowered his head. “Callen is my friend. He’s also my third-in-command. Don’t be fooled by his easy demeanor, and definitely don’t take cues from his behavior,” he said in a voice only I could hear.
Yet again, it was as if he knew the direction of my thoughts.
I couldn’t imagine the pretty man and his friendly demeanor charging into battle, never mind commanding some level of authority.
“Why did you take me?” I asked.
“For a reason I can’t tell you here and now.”
How specific.
“How did you hear of my temporary eyes?”
“That is another answer I can’t give.”
“Why can’t you answer either question?” Frustration burst through the question before I could squelch it. I looked up at him, searching for a reaction, waiting for a consequence.
He studied me for a moment, dark eyes evaluating as they darted between mine.
Decision crossed those rugged features. “Two reasons. One is that our conversation needs to occur in private, and the second is that if you are captured by Koerlyn before we make it back, he’ll torture you for information.
I can’t give you anything important to offer. ”
The wails and cries I’d heard over the last four days rushed back in a torrent.
The images of bodies turned inside out, parts of limbs scattered in pools of blood—I would rather die than be tortured by Koerlyn.
I would…I would kill myself before he touched me.
I would have to. There wouldn’t be any coming back from what he would do.
Nausea took root in my stomach as I quickly looked away. Harthon wasn’t ignorant. He knew the reaction his words would produce. He said them as a threat, a reminder of what could happen if I escaped. He was calculated. I would need to be, too.
No one spoke again as we rode. Eventually, the sky grew darker, muted hues of orange and red struggling to appear between gray clouds. Harthon pulled to the side of our path. We came to a stop as his men continued past us.
He shifted, and I watched as he dug through a saddlebag. He twisted back to me, a long strip of brown fabric in his hand. I stared at it, then at my arms, which were still fully bound. My eyes flew to his face as I reared back.
“It’s for your safety,” he said, cutting off any protests.
Safety? Being blindfolded and restrained was the complete opposite of safe. Everyone knew that.
I was about to tell him this when he continued.
“We’re almost at the city of Carmen. We’ll be greeted when we enter.
Your eyes are too unique, too odd, to not be noticed.
They’ll scare some people, and fear always gives way to reckless action.
They’ll interest others, who will gossip about you, inevitably informing spies that you’re here.
I’ll remove it when we arrive at the inn. ”
I stared at him dumbly. He was explaining his reasons…to me, a captive. While I’d never been a captive until a few days ago, I was fairly certain that went against the captor code of conduct. Still, that didn’t make this remotely acceptable. “I could just close my eyes and pretend to be asleep.”
“And I’m supposed to trust you?”
If my eyes were as fear-inspiring as he believed, I’d be opening them, causing chaos, and escaping the moment we went through those gates. Keeping those thoughts from my face, I met his eyes and spoke with as much sincerity as I could muster. “Yes.”
He grunted. “You’re a terrible liar. Now turn around.”
I spun with a huff. “Forgive me. Seeing as I’m not a Princeps, I don’t have much practice in the art of lying.” My back immediately stiffened, my body realizing what my mouth just spewed before my brain caught up.
But Harthon didn’t do anything but say, “You don’t need to be a Princeps to practice.
” His touch was an anchor as he set the fabric over my eyes and fastened it behind my head, effectively blinding me.
Bits of light were all that trickled in through the bottom of the blindfold.
“Try not to react to the crowd. The less attention you draw, the better.”
The horse began to move, and I teetered, unable to orient myself. Harthon’s hand landed on my waist and pulled me into his chest.
“Your balance needs work,” he said, not in a mocking way, but as a critique.
It was my fear of repercussions that stopped me from elbowing him. “I’m blindfolded on a moving horse,” I ground out instead.
I knew I should sit up straight and refuse his help, but I found myself leaning into his heat instead.
Maybe it was exhaustion, or maybe it was the acute sense of vulnerability that gripped me.
I’d grown used to not having my hands free, but at least my eyes had provided awareness, knowledge, and the ability to anticipate threats.
I had none of that now. Even though Harthon was my enemy, we had the same goal of keeping me alive for the next few hours.
Not that he’d told me that directly, but it seemed implied at this point.
It only made sense to embrace protection, no matter how temporary.
Sounds of conversation told me when we’d caught up with the group. Someone laughed.
“…didn’t even see it coming!” another man, Callen I think, exclaimed.
A burst of chuckles branched into more talking. I grasped onto tendrils of conversation.
“…think Samantha will be there?” someone asked.
“As if she wants to see your sorry face again.”
“That wasn’t my fault. It was that other…” More laughter exploded.
Being so close to our destination, they must have finally dropped their guard. It almost sounded like they were having fun. Koerlyn’s men had never acted that way.
“Scouts are out for another check. They should be back within the hour,” the bearded man reported from somewhere close.
“Good. I know we’re close, but tell the men to keep it together. They can relax and enjoy themselves when we arrive at the inn,” Harthon said.
The bearded man echoed his orders, and the chatter instantly stopped. Harthon subtly tightened his grip above my hip.
“We’re here,” he said a few moments later, just as two heavy creaks cut through the air. City gates, most likely.
A soft chorus of welcomes and Princeps Harthons came from all around us as the horse kept its pace.
“Would you take this bread, Princeps Harthon?” The question emerged above the murmured greetings.
“Keep it for yourself,” he responded, his voice almost…kind. He did the same for the next five people who offered him gifts, earning genuine expressions of gratitude in return.
My village had never welcomed our Princeps in that way. If Harthon didn’t care for a title, I doubted he required such displays. Were they so fearful of him that they were trying to earn his favor?
Sooner than I expected, the voices dimmed, and we came to a stop.
“Don’t remove it yet,” he ordered.
I rolled my eyes beneath the blindfold.
Harthon dismounted, taking his heat with him, and only then did I realize how chilled the air was here. Cold bit at my skin through the borrowed cloak and worn-down clothing.
Two hands found my ribs and lowered me to my feet with easy strength. I’d hardly hit the ground when I was swept into the air and cradled to a chest.
Harthon’s chest, by the musky scent I’d come to know over the past few hours.
Warmth replaced the cold, and the earthy scent of savory herbed meats filled the air. My mouth watered. It smelled utterly divine. But Harthon took me away from the food and up what felt like stairs. I heard the whoosh of an opening door, and then I was engulfed by even warmer air.
Harthon set me on my feet. I grasped for balance that wasn’t there and immediately fell into him.
“Stupid blindfold,” I muttered as he gripped my shoulders and steadied me.
A heartbeat later, the fabric was gone, and so were the bindings on my wrists. I found myself face to face with the top of his leather-covered chest.
“You keep blaming the blindfold.”
Was he…making fun of me? I craned my neck to see a faint smirk playing across his lips. It did nothing to soften the sharp planes of his face.
Peering behind him, I ensured we were in private. Then I stepped back so I could better spear him with my eyes. “I assure you, my feet are steady.”
“I have yet to see that for myself.”
Memories of my mortifying fall in Third sent heat crawling up my neck.
“You try running with your hands bound behind your back, with legs that can hardly move from riding for days after fighting river rapids and being chased through the woods. Once you’re done with that, add a blindfold to the mix, and tell me how steady you are. ”
He cocked an unimpressed brow. “I’ve killed hordes of skilled men after enduring trials more horrible and trying than you can imagine. Blindfolds and bindings? Those are child’s play.”
Well, look at him. The big, bad, indomitable warrior who could not be stopped by the darkest, most terrifying tests of humanity.
Good for him.
Good for fucking him.
My trembling fingers curled into fists. “I get that killing, torture, and violence are regular parts of your daily activities. But in my life, the one where my eyes are brown and I’m just another villager, being kidnapped, blindfolded, and bound is a big deal.
Having my eyes turned into a kaleidoscope of color is jarring, and being hunted by the most powerful leaders—one of whom slaughters his own people for entertainment—without knowing why is a bit overwhelming.
Liken me to a child, but in my reality, a child would not have made it this far. ”
The levity on his face vanished, something implacable and firm in its place. “If you’re seeking pity, you won’t find it here. You’re going to have to make it much further than you already have.”
My fists nearly flew right into that granite jaw. “I’m not stupid enough to seek anything from you,” I hissed instead. And the only place I was going to make it was home, once I escaped him.
He didn’t react, making it abundantly clear how little my words mattered.
Instead, he nodded to a tub in the corner of the room and abruptly said, “You can take a bath. Callen will bring you clothes, food, and new bandages in an hour. Try to open the door or leave this room, and you won’t have a pleasant evening. ”
What, was he going to sit outside my room all night, waiting for me to defy him?
Part of me hoped so, only because the hard floor would be uncomfortable.
Without another word, Harthon turned his back and strode from the room, closing the wooden door behind him.