Chapter 27 Alfrie #2
She studies me for a beat and takes a step toward me. The sweet aroma of lavender and citrus fills my senses, sending a bolt of electricity through me. I take a step away from her. I consider shifting into my human form just to lessen the scent.
She cocks her head. “Why are you out here? And why are you acting so strange?” She moves toward me again, her eyes narrowing trying to figure me out.
Strange isn’t how I would describe what I’m feeling at this moment.
Distracted, maybe. Terrified. Elated. And…
I take a deep breath in, taking control of the unwanted aesthesis as I stare at her.
Her long hair is tied back into a loose bun at her neck, tiny strands poking out and framing her face.
She chews on her bottom lip, intently watching me.
She wants to trust me. I should tell her the truth.
About the rumors I heard. About what I was truly looking for.
About what I found.
But that’s a very bad idea. I clear my throat and tear my gaze away from her. “Leer told you this morning. I’m in search of a particular medicinal flower that only blooms at night. For insomnia.” I add the last part for good measure, just in case she decides to crosscheck my story with Leer.
She frowns as she scrutinizes me and I’m positive that she doesn’t believe a word I’m telling her.
I wait for her to question me further, but she doesn’t.
Instead, she closes the distance between us, lifting a hand toward my cheek.
I stiffen and pull my face back slightly, drawing in a ragged breath.
Her hand freezes midair, and she locks eyes with me. “Is it so awful for me to touch you? You act as if it might kill you.”
It just might.
I clench my jaw holding in my shallow breaths and stand perfectly still as her fingers brush against the cut under my left eye. It’s so light that I might have imagined it, but my pulse races, and blood rushes to the spot where her fingers grazed my skin.
Her hazel eyes glow in the candlelight as they assess my injury. My face. My entire soul. “You’re hurt,” she whispers.
I can’t speak. I can’t think. I can hardly breathe with the way she’s looking at me.
She cups my cheek, and it takes every ounce of my energy to avoid leaning into her palm.
“It’s nothing. Better than becoming a meal for two trolls,” I stutter.
Uncomfortable under her touch, I subtly lower my head, and she drops her hand.
Thank the gods. Her body is so close to mine, and I don’t know how much longer I can fight the urge to cross a line I’m not prepared to cross.
“You really shouldn’t be out here. Come on, I’ll take you back to the palace.
” I start down the path slowly, so I don’t lose sight of her.
If anything happens to her because of my poor choices, I can guarantee my punishment will be so much worse than whipping.
That, and I fear the sun may not shine quite as bright if she’s gone from this world.
I shake my head and ball my hands into fists, digging my nails into my palms. Perhaps the pain will distract me from these completely forbidden thoughts.
“I’m sorry.”
I stop in my tracks and peer sideways at Zara. “For what?”
“For how I treated you this morning. I…That’s not.” She sighs and shoots a sidelong glance in my direction. “I’m not really the type of royal who holds their status over others. But you’re just so.” She clenches a fist then laughs at her own mock frustration.
A smirk pulls at my lips. “Yes, I can be very,” I make a fist to mimic her. “And apology accepted.” We really don’t have time to chat. She’s not safe here, and I need to get back to plan my next move to locate the village.
“Just like that?” Her arms cross over her bodice. “No argument? No telling me that I’m spoiled, and you’re simply responding to my childish behavior?” She faces me now and stands on her tip-toes, giving me a mock stare-down.
I thrust my hands into my pockets to keep from reaching for her. Fuck. We’ve got to go. Now. “Yes. Just like that.” I hold my hand out in front of me, directing her to start moving. “You can pretend I said all that other stuff.”
A smile curls her lips and she nods, appearing to be placated, and we stroll along the dark path in silence.
I’m on high alert as we go. The trolls might come back—and I’m struggling with the odd sense that something else is coming.
Something big and so much more deadly than trolls.
It’s unnerving. I pick up my pace, ushering Zara alongside me and let out a sigh of relief at the sight of the courtyard gates.
Three figures approach from the barracks near the servants’ entrance. They rush toward us, holding torches in the air. Commander Byron trails behind Leer and King Hardin, and Leer passes his torch to Hardin as he runs to pull his betrothed into his arms.
“I was so worried about you!” He holds her at arm’s length, assessing her for any bodily injuries, then cradles her to his chest once more.
“I went to find Alfrie, only for Commander Byron to tell me he saw him wander out into the forest from his window. And that you followed him.” Leer speaks into Zara’s hair as he hugs her, but he keeps me in his sights.
The Commander doesn’t approach, but his beady eyes settle upon the scene, completely void of emotion. It seems he’s everywhere.
King Hardin wears a callous expression, his gaze lingering on me, and anger flashes in his eyes akin to the flames from the torches he clutches. “Leer tells me you’ve been out in the Woodlands looking for something?”
I stare down at my shoes. “A flower. It has medicinal qualities.”
Leer nods to me from behind his father, “Thank you for making sure my betrothed returned safely.” He takes a torch from Hardin and moves to Zara’s side, wrapping an arm around her waist, and leads her up the hill to the castle with Byron a step behind.
Leaving me alone with Hardin.
Zara glances back at me, concern in her eyes as they dart between me and the king.
I give her a slight nod as Leer pulls her closer to his side and drags her away with him.
Byron narrows his eyes at me then continues after the royals.
I squint, catching a glimpse of what look like claws emerging from his fingertips.
A flash of scaly gray coloring the brown skin of his hand.
I blink. The claws are gone. His hands back to normal.
King Hardin sighs behind me. I don’t dare move, gluing my eyes to the ground. He prowls around me like a beast to his prey. His breath is hot on my neck as he bombards my space. I sharply inhale waiting for him to lash out. To strike me. Anything.
“I know it was you cowering in the alcove the other night. What did you hear?” His voice is low, but it’s no less menacing.
My mouth is bone dry. “Nothing, Your Majesty. I heard nothing.”
“I’m not a fool. Tell me what you heard!” He curls my tunic in his fist, pulling the collar taut around my throat.
I keep my head bowed. “I swear. I only saw you speaking to the queen. I didn’t hear anything.
” My traitorous hands tremble and I plant them firmly at my sides, so he won’t see them shake with fear.
His cold eyes are on me. Waiting for me to fumble.
Waiting for me to give him a reason to instigate a fight.
He’s wanted to spar with one of the predators I can become since he found me.
I wonder if wringing torment from others gives him some sort of sick and twisted pleasure.
After a painfully long moment, he unhands my tunic and backs off. “I trust you won’t go looking for your…flower…again.”
“No. Your Majesty.”
“Good. There’s nothing left in those woods for you, Alfrie.
Even if there was, you are sworn to me. I pulled you out of the mud and off of the charred and used up body of your whore mother.
I hope you remember who you owe everything to.
” He spits on the ground near my feet. “The only way to be free from a life debt is through death.”
I shudder at his descriptive commentary. “Of course, Your Majesty. I will live out my life in service to you.” I fall to my knees in the dirt, not daring to look up at him.
“I hope, for your sake, that you speak the truth.” I wait for him to walk away, but he hovers over me. Finally, King Hardin emits a sigh and leaves me there on my knees and heads back to the palace.
I focus on the dirt now caked on my pants and wait until the sound of Hardin’s footsteps disappear before I haul myself up. My mouth is torrid and a bead of sweat drips down from my forehead, stinging the open cut under my eye.
He knows. He knows of the village, and that I was searching for it.
I pull the rag doll from my pocket, staring blankly at its sewn-on face. Hopefully, I’ll live long enough to find it.