Chapter 5 #2
I lean against a tree and practice short breaths, counting my inhales and exhales. It takes longer than I’d like but I’m finally able to level my breathing and focus on the forest sounds. Squirrels chitter to one another in the trees nearest me.
I raise my eyes to the canopy above and watch the dust settle through the mosaic light that filters through the branches. If I wasn’t currently hiding, this place would actually be peaceful. The reality is though that it isn’t, it’s just a temporary limbo I find myself in.
My brain fights itself trying to get a bearing of where I’m at. I’d studied the maps, looked thoroughly through them and attempted to memorize as many as possible just for a moment like this, no matter if I thought it a small possibility.
Resting with the sturdy trunk against my back, I scour the nearby landscape.
I need to get back to wherever Leeson is.
My best bet is to follow the Miener River and escape until I can find my bearings.
With a jolt so sudden I worry I’ve been hit by lightning, I crumble to my side on the forest floor.
Pain radiates from my head in pulsing waves, sucking me under and causing me to lose my vision.
My limbs curl inward, my wrist threatening to break from the cruel tension coursing through me.
My world tilts and my vision is lost as my cheek presses into the cool earth. My body feels like a sack of stones, helpless to flee or fight off whatever this is.
What a cruel joke it is to think I could’ve gotten away.
Velroy’s twisted demeanor is palpable in the air, his laugh an echo in the surrounding trees. My vision recovers, and he saunters into the space between two trunks. Grasping at one of the limbs that hangs nearest his face, he takes in greedy breaths.
“Alora. Sweetheart.” The term isn’t used in endearment but rather sarcastic resentment. If my body wasn’t so weighed down, I’m sure my spine would have stiffened.
He snaps the limb with a suddenness that suggests he’s barely controlling his rage. His clothes are untucked and lay in an odd manner on his frame, appearing rumpled and torn, dirtied by more than just the soiled soul that claims them.
I should have tried something, anything other than stay here, if only I hadn’t gotten distracted by those damn flowers.
Of course Hanin wouldn’t have sent them, he’s gone.
Through the veil and resting in the Plains of Elmir, at least I imagine and hope.
He would be laughing and jumping in those meadows of fallen warriors, waiting for me to chase and tackle him.
A fragment of his laughter enters my memory, quickly squashed by Velroy making a start toward me.
I’ll find you sooner than I thought, brother.
My throat bobs with a swallow. Feeling has started to return to my felled body, the coppery tinge of blood tickles the back of my throat.
“I thought all whores liked rough play?” his voice stings with disdain, “I shouldn’t be surprised it left you speechless, but fuck if I thought you’d fight harder. You’re not making this very fun for me.” A stone wall settles in my stomach. He isn’t going to make this quick.
His hand comes harshly over my arm and rips me up to the sitting position. I meet his cold gaze, something sinister simmering beneath his stare.
“Don’t you want to have fun?” He whispers into my ear before his slimy tongue licks my cheek where a tear slides down.
My body sits there, the fight almost dampened out of me.
A deft awareness of the predator before me sends currents down my spine.
I watch him squat and become face level to mine. His eyes dance side to side, scouring over my face, taking in the scene like a dog toying with a hare it’s captured.
“Do you know what a waste it is…” His hand gestures at my body, lingering over my chest, “that beauty like yours just happens to belong to someone with magic?
His hand pinches my chin, holding it in place, forcing me to look into his eyes. “Yes, Kassiel told me about your magic, you little wretch. I just wanted to taste you before you end up as wasted flesh.”
My lip curls up in a snarl. I’ve dealt with men like this before—ones that would rather I feel small. The ones that think I’m too outspoken.
I used to let them. I used to believe I couldn’t ever be something, but then everything changed.
My anger drips like poison as I speak to the bastard, “I don’t owe you a godsdamn thing.”
The words come out with an icy tone, spoken with the ferocity this man loathes and I spit on his face.
The satisfaction falls short as I watch the spit slide down his cheek before he wipes it off and looks at his hand. Quicker than I realize, that same hand comes across my face with a force enough to jerk my head to the side.
Pain shoots down my jaw, my tongue catching in between my teeth, spilling blood. He’s quick to jerk my head back to face his. The grip now on my hair, in an unforgiving vice. I feel my scalp smart against the force.
“Remember this, Alora. Know in your pathetic soul that you’re the reason this happened. Know that you’re going to cross the veil a ruined slut because you just couldn’t keep your mouth shut.”
A sickening feeling courses through me, met by fear that lodges itself in my throat.
My eyes roll to the little white flowers, now trampled and ruined. They’re too beautiful and delicate to witness this.
Grabbing me by my ankle, Velroy rips me down onto my back, his grip punishing. His hands use bruising force as he gathers my hem and begins to push my dress to my knees.
A scream tears from my throat, a prayer to anyone who might help.
His hands greedily grab me around the waist in an effort to shuffle me toward him.
I slap at his face but he catches my wrist and pins it to my side.
My magic warms, the small kindling of power desperate to be unleashed.
If only I knew how to harness it, use it to save me.
My exhaustion begins to win out, snuffing any spark that could ignite.
I recoil back, using my legs to kick out but not before his fist comes down on the side of my head. My vision swims, the tree line and surrounding scenery becoming muddied.
My head floats, fuzziness mingling my thoughts as I imagine a faint smell of forest and a cool hint of mint. I’m left in confusion as this scent definitely isn’t coming from Velroy. His is sour, wrong. What I’m smelling feels safe, beckoning.
My head lulls to the side as I try to locate where the fragrance comes from. Maybe it’s the veil beckoning me, letting me know I’ll find peace after I continue with the horror of the present.
Velroy continues to grab at me, his sickening smooth hands palming my ass and squeezing brutally.
I can’t tell if I’ve been screaming the whole time or if I’ve just started again as the rawness of my throat grows painful.
The ringing in my ears pierces, reaching a shrill tone, leaving me incapacitated.
If only I wasn’t physically smaller than this prick, I could fight back more. Frustration and anger replace the fear and disgust coursing through me.
Velroy’s hand comes up to my face in an effort to grab my chin but not before I tuck my face downward, catching the meat of his hand in my open jaw.
I bite down with such force I feel his blood spill into my mouth and down onto my chest, his skin tearing with the effort.
It’s overwhelming, the inkiness of his blood.
Somehow even it tastes vile. I gag on the coppery subsistence and can’t help but choke on the ichor.
I begin spitting it out when his scream pierces the sky.
“You cunt! That’s my writing hand!”
“Good.” The words are raw, broken with my cracked voice. “Now you’ll have something to remember me by.” I smile wickedly as blood and spittle drip down my chin.
“Rion.” A flat, but loud voice has Velroy jolting. I take advantage and scoot farther from Lord Velroy, my dress dragging over the fallen leaves and soil as he cradles his wounded hand. That scent wafts over to me again and my hazy vision settles on a figure cloaked in ebony.
The brilliance of green that pops in the almost ethereal figure is the first thing I notice. Green that forms into eyes that are now staring intently into mine, unblinking.
Lord Velroy’s unapologetic voice pipes in, “Kassiel, I …”
The eyes break from mine, instantly cooling as they peer at Velroy. “You what, Rion? Can’t fucking keep it in your pants?”
I adjust my skirts over my legs, arms wrapping around my knees in an effort to conceal the truth of the moment.
The Devourer’s voice drips in disdain, “I’m not even surprised you’d resort to this. As if any woman would willingly bed you.”
Lord Velroy stands, kicking dirt at me in the process. What a child.
He looks at The Devourer and back to me before saying, “This bitch about took off my whole hand with that mouth of hers.”
The serpentine eyes of my enemy, or savior in this moment, narrow and harden.
“What is she doing out of the dungeon? The guards were under explicit orders.” A new voice, steeped with annoyance, threads into the clearing.
My face drops when the second man appears from the treeline, the same skinny face that found perverted amusement in watching Caym thrash around. The Nightmare.
The silence grows pungent. Not even a squirrel or bird dares to make a sound.
“Well? Why is she out here?” The Devourer practically shakes as he yells at Lord Velroy.
“I don’t answer to you, Kassiel, anymore than you answer to me.” Velroy adjusts his shirt with his good hand and starts to dust himself off. A scoff comes from the direction of the new man.
“I presume you can get her back to that shit hole you call a cell?” Velroy’s condescension drips as he turns on his heel to leave, not sparing a second glance at me.