Chapter 20
“ T halon, my brother. I love you. Really, I do. But I trust your cooking as much as I trust drinking the swamp waters of Lirazkendra. Put that spoon down before you poison us all,” Aiden’s appalled voice cut through Alora’s canvas.
She squeezed her pillow to her chest, nuzzled her face into the plushness as her stomach growled something fierce, and groaned. Her sore muscles were grateful for it, and that pillow all but suffocated her in utter bliss. She didn’t care to move, but the thought of a bath and how divine it would be …
No. Allowing her still-heavy eyes to rest sounded more like a Stars Eternal dream. Plus, Garrik’s scent was still on her. She wasn’t ready to wash him away.
Alora tried to roll over, but her muscles protested.
Jade had been utterly ruthless with close combat earlier. No wonder she led a battalion of her own. Nothing and no one compared to her skills. Especially those with daggers. Not even Thalon, a warrior raised from birth, could compare to her with tiny blades. Jade was starsdamned powerful. Given magic, Alora wasn’t foolish enough not to believe she could conquer realms.
Exhaling a chuckle through her nose, Alora shook her head with a feline grin. They may have hated each other at first, but the mere thought of anything happening to Jade?—
“ What have you done ?” From Aiden’s shriek, Alora bolted up and braced herself on bent elbows, burning her gaze toward the firesite when she heard their sea captain cry out in horror, “Wha … what is this— tar? ”
Liquid splashed, and then Jade’s disgust cut in, “No. Tar would probably taste better than this.”
“How any of you are still alive in my absence is a bloody mystery to me.” Then Aiden’s voice trailed away.
The sound of something being chopped on wood followed.
Alora didn’t stifle the quiet chuckle. She could almost smell it, picturing potatoes roasting over the fire, sizzling in butter and herbs. Her favorite.
Though traveling in an army offered fewer decadent meals, she never once missed sitting at Kaine’s table. Never missed the elaborate platters and plates of endless foods that could feed an entire orphaned Telldairan street in Outcastle Alley.
By the time, indeed, potatoes were sizzling, Alora laid back, only to jolt into a seated position at the sound of a startling crunch against her pillow.
She pulled away and twisted around.
If not for the dimly lit lanterns hanging from her ceiling, she wouldn’t have noticed the folded flat piece of parchment. Alora unraveled the page, dangerous hope and anticipation rolling through her. Holding it to the light, she read along the smudges like whoever wrote it had perhaps been jarringly interrupted and dragged their hand through the wet ink, distorting the calligraphy she’d expected to find.
Three words on the sheet of parchment, just three simple words. That’s all it took to send her heart leaping before she coyly grinned and headed for the entrance.
The parchment scratched against her palm, concealed as she tracked his dark figure waiting at the tree line. A patchy fog shrouded the same valley she’d watched him in hours earlier.
‘Come find me,’ his note had said.
The ink brushed her palm as she took a step forward onto the downward slope of the hill.
He stepped back. Almost as if to taunt her.
Her every step, he countered, drifting further into the darkness of the forest.
This was new. Garrik had always remained out of sight when she followed him. This time was different. Then again, he had teased her with this kind of game before. Leading her out, only to disappear and play his tricks.
Last time, she had gained the upper hand, even if he had planned it. Somehow, she wondered if he did this to perfect her tracking skills. She had acquired impeccable accuracy. But with him, the master of illusions and wielder of darkness, he would always retain the advantage.
Even so. At least he was okay. He wouldn’t be playing this game if he wasn’t.
She took another step forward with a feline grin. Ready for the chase.
And, again, he countered, swallowed entirely by the darkness of the trees.
Want me to find you? She inhaled deeply. Then you better run.
The hunt was on.
Where did you go?
Standing sharp-eyed, Alora studied every darkened silhouette, meticulously narrowing on the slightest twitch. Every rock, every rustling branch in the cold breeze. All sounds of the forest perking her ears as she watched. And waited.
She lost his trail some time ago, but he was out there. She would find him.
The poorly laid tracks led her mere feet from the bank of a massive lake that extended further than she could see. It was surrounded by dancing blazebugs and a sea of weeping willows swaying in a calm breeze.
A thin layer of scum and algae floated on top of the water. Only broken apart by small, stagnate sections of water that reflected silvery moonlight off the surface, illuminating a bobbing wooden dock.
Why would he lead me here?
Garrik’s voice carried like a whisper muffled by wind, What do you mean? Responding to her first thought.
He had led her deep into the forest. Hopefully, he planned on dawning them back because her legs had begun burning long ago. She wouldn’t mind a quick jump in the lake to soothe her body … if it wasn’t covered with grime.
Alora stifled a frown when she heard dirt and rocks crunching.
His shadow appeared, sneaking out through the tree line to the lake.
A smile tugged at her lips. You have nowhere to run now, mighty prince. Best to surrender before I remind you what happened last time. She didn’t wait for him to respond. Alora advanced.
The lake was his only escape.
Where are you?
She scoffed. That trick wasn’t going to work. Distracting her with pointless questions would only give him more time to make an escape. To dawn or run or outwit her. Not this time .
Her boot meticulously moved forward, making no sound as her eyes narrowed on him, feet from the lake shore.
Did he expect her to lunge? Only to step out of the way in time for her to land in the lake? That would be rich. In fact, the last time they played this little game, he’d crouched at a stream and waited for her until Soulstryker found his neck.
She only wished she had brought weapons on this hunt. It would make catching him much sweeter. But she didn’t need weapons when Elysian’s deadliest predator stood in front of her. Plus, she had starfire.
Gripping the bark of the tree in front of her, she poised herself to run.
Alora? Garrik’s voice sounded concerned. He could play dumb all he wanted. It wouldn’t work. Where are you? he growled, and she shivered this time. The playfulness she expected wasn’t there.
Rolling her eyes, Alora dug her nails into the tree. You really know how to ruin the fun. She crouched down and picked up a stone, tossing it at him and mumbling to herself, “Mighty bastard,” as it bounced off his puffed chest.
She dared to throw another. I’m right in front of you.
It didn’t seem to faze him. An eerie silence hovered before he cocked his head.
Garrik’s voice seemed kingdoms away as he answered, That would be impossible. He paused, allowing her to hear a branch snap to her right. Seeing as I am sitting in my tent … alone.
What—
Something cold and hard and unforgiving collided with her head, dropping her to her hands and knees. On the edge of darkness, her head spun as she blinked through a haze of pain.
Two leather-covered hands gripped her upper arms and pulled her from the tree line before she felt her arms yanked behind her and cold metal clasped around her wrists.
They forced her to her stomach, and she struggled to pull her knees under her, trying to propel herself to her feet.
A knee wrenched the air from her lungs.
She slammed face-first into the dirt as the knee pressed hard into her upper back. Pinning her before her ankles, too, were clamped with sharp pressure.
She tried—so desperately tried—to fight it as a wave of unconsciousness settled. But her body pulsed with pain. Her lungs burned.
Then she caught a glimpse of the leather glove pressing into the dirt beside her face. The purple cloak pooled from his shoulder beside that. A purple cloak…
It took five rapid blinks for her to angle her neck and try to catch a better view of her captor, but a hand fisted her hair and slammed her face down.
It hurt. So badly did it hurt.
An animalistic growl tore from her throat, but she couldn’t fight him.
The darkened figure standing before the lake crouched down, lifted by her chin until her spinning focus captured his face, and leaned forward—so close they almost shared breath.
Alora spit directly in his disgusting face.
Bursts of dark laughter echoed around her, knotting her throat, which the male’s palm enclosed as he wiped away her spit with his glove. Still, he remained silent and lifted her until her feet dangled above the ground.
Strangled pleading gasps tore from her throat.
Four more sets of boots crunched the dirt beside the figure. Or was it five? Six?
She tried to blink, but her eyes closed from the lack of air, not opening on her command. Not until a palm smacked her cheek, knocking her to the dirt.
Alora fell on her side as blood seeped through a cut in her lip and poured from her nose.
A hand brushed over her death mark, which was concealed under fabric, and squeezed her upper arm to force her onto her back. Pinned now, her shackled wrists screamed in agony.
Groans crossed her bloody lips. It was all she could do. Groan through the pain and swirling vision as her sweater wrinkled beneath the leather glove tracing down her chest.
They were talking. Whoever they were. But she couldn’t concentrate. Her head felt like it’d been split open. And from the warmth trickling down the back of her head, she was certain it was.
A cold voice snickered, “Well. Aren’t you so very lucky?”
Something pinched her neck. Then ...
Darkness.