Chapter 5 #3
He doesn’t acknowledge the fact I’m bloodied and bruised with my dark locks forming a curtain over my face. I’m rubbish to him. He acts as if he were a child throwing a tantrum over a sweetened orange peel, only to discard the treat when they don’t get their way.
“Watch that bastard, Orlin. You know our duty here. She’s still the king’s prisoner.” The Devourer is looking at his companion, though The Nightmare only studies his own shirtsleeve.
“He is rather reckless, isn’t he, Kassiel?” The Nightmare looks up from his sleeves, still ignoring me, but continues, “I’ll follow him back to town. Not for you, but because he made me get my new shirt dirty when you forced me to follow you out here.”
Where The Devourer’s eyes are green, this man’s are icy blue.
They’re unfeeling and remind me of someone who’s passed through the veil, lifeless.
He’s dressed similar to The Devourer who stands directly in front of me but other than hair color, they couldn’t be more different.
The Nightmare might have a smaller frame and thinner face with porcelain skin, but his energy feels more intimidating.
Like the wrongness of his nature leaches off with his energy and soul.
“Go get him Orlin, he can’t fuck up more of our plans or we’ll both be summoned.” The Devourer’s tone feels flat, almost chiding.
My mind feels like it’s in a mist, as though I can’t focus on what’s happened.
The Devourer’s presence is somehow comforting, knowing that Velroy doesn’t like him and appears to be on better behavior when he’s around.
On the other hand Of course, men like Velroy only prey on victims when there isn’t anyone to stand up to his cruelty.
“It would be an honor to go to our king, but you’re right about Rion.
He can’t be trusted and I grow bored.” The Nightmare looks around the clearing while his sharp hooked nose scrunches.
“Maybe I'll plague his mind to keep me occupied while you sort this shit out.” He’s quick to leave, trailing off after Lord Velroy.
I sit with the fact I was assaulted, and almost defiled. I take a moment to force myself to numb this hurt like I have all the others. To choke down the panic and dread and pretend I’m the strong warrior that’s a facade of the real me, the damaged me.
Leather and mint envelop me again and I realize The Devourer is mere inches from me, sitting on his heels with his knees bent in a squat.
He’s staring at me too intensely. How odd that his smell would beckon me, calm me.
I’m not sure how long he’s sat there or how long it’s been since Velroy left us.
“Thank you.” My neck throbs and there’s a faint twinge every few moments. My throat feels bruised and even more cracked. I’m unsure why I said it, maybe to break the silence or in an effort to push away the reality of what Velroy wanted to do to me.
“Are you hurt?”
Disbelief floods me. “As if you truly care.” I push myself up, limbs weary and heavy. “You don’t need to worry about me. I’ll be dead and in the veil’s grasp before too long.”
I stand expectantly, waiting for some retort from the dark clothed man, but receive nothing.
He looks at me blandly, “I’m uninterested in needing to care for you more than I need to. But if I’m to send you to the menagerie, I need to know if you’re hurt.”
I can’t speak, not because I physically am unable, but I know I’ll waver in my steadiness if I say anything. I might break having to confront my assault.
“Look, I’m not going to hurt you.”
A laugh escapes me, a true laugh that has my chest hurting with the deep breaths. Velroy must have hit me harder than I realized.
“Whatever you think then, but it’s my duty to get you to the menagerie or get you an execution, and then my king will decide what will happen. But until then, I won’t hurt you.”
I sigh. “Forgive me if I don’t believe you, but I saw what your companions do to others, what they did to my friends.”
I wave my hands to show my ripped and dirtied skirts, and then I bring them to my face and touch my split lip.
“You’re in need of a bath, maybe a healer even. Your face may be scarred.” He still looks at me.
“I’m fine.” Defiance fills my chest. “Plus, I’d rather keep the scars.”
“Why?”
I blink away and twirl my finger along the soft fabric of my skirt, other hand playing with a button on my top. “My scars aren’t a badge of honor if that’s what you’re implying.”
His head tilts, the question remaining in his eyes. “Why then? If not for pride, then for what, little warrior?”
I don’t want to talk about this, especially with the man who kills ruthlessly and without remorse. Against my better judgement, I find myself answering him, the fight in me gone. “It reminds me of my failings. Reminds me of the moments when I was too weak, moments I was a disappointment.”
“Hmm.”
His lip tips up in one corner, a sad smile forming. That hot feeling rises in me again, shame and disappointment snaking around my heart.
“I don’t need your pity. We both know how this works. You couldn’t possibly understand what I mean, and honestly, I don’t care to explain.” I slice him with a glare and continue. “I don’t need to tell you anything because I doubt you’re capable of any empathy.”
“I do not pity you, actually.” He’s turning from me now, clearly about as done with this conversation as I am.
“Then what do you call it?” I snap, louder than I mean to.
He turns back to face me, his skin looking godly in this light, face hardened and slowly says, “I see you, Alora Viren. I see through those scars, and it’s unfortunate you don’t see their beauty.”
My stomach drops, an icy sweat forming on my skin.
“I’ll get you back now before dark claims the sky.”
I have no choice other than to follow him because I know that escape isn’t an option. I can’t flee from The Devourer without him finding me and possibly devouring my soul, and his company beats the alternative of being left alone with Lord Velroy again.