Chapter 14
Kassiel
Iwasn’t certain she had caught me watching her until her eyes locked on mine. I’d not been able to sleep with the burning hellfire scorching my neck that was the Nasc Gal. King Euron was summoning me. He had to have known by now that I was missing, though he wouldn’t know by which means.
The only thing that seemed to help keep my mind from focusing on the pain was to watch her dream.
I studied her long into the night, the restlessness of her slumber causing her to jolt in her sleep.
It was curious to see her so tense even in slumber, as if she was battling monsters even in her dreams. Possibly she was, just as I have.
What I didn’t expect was to have her face me with such bravery, peering into my own soul with the most haunting blue eyes.
The quietness of the night was nothing compared to the hammering of my own heart thumping so loudly I’d assumed she caught notice.
The moments between us felt so familiar it took everything I had to not crawl to her to kiss her delicate jaw.
Even now as I tromp through the felled branches and underbrush, I’m thinking about the way she studied me and the hunger that whispered between us.
Once the rest of the group woke, she made it a point to ignore me, as if she could deny the unmistakable charge between us.
After a breakfast of cold, unbuttered bread that tasted stale, I was quickly leashed up again and tied to Alora’s mare, to my surprise.
Caym and Lees, as I’ve come to know them, lead in the front.
The group split right after breakfast, us heading in one direction, and the others in another.
From what I overheard, they were nervous about trackers locating us.
They were right to be, especially as the burning of my tattoo has intensified to nearly blinding at times.
King Euron will have dispatched Orlin to find me, and when he does, the rest of our party will be broken in many inhuman ways.
The woman with darker skin, Merinda, had taken lead of the other group while Zedriel followed behind, taking on the strikingly similar visage of me.
It was startling to watch his face morph until it was a mirror of my own.
Their reasoning was that if anyone was after me, they would hopefully follow my doppelg?nger and leave Alora’s group alone, clear until we got to their fortress.
Zedriel and the others all did so without hesitation.
If I had that level of loyalty from the men I ordered, I’d be able to launch a successful campaign to be rid of the ink that binds me to the king’s will. I would one day find the witches responsible for chaining Rune and I to the unholy bastard.
Zedriel’s large coat, heavy with moisture, and a reek that seems to assault me with every rise in the wind was left to me as his final parting gift.
Even though it is pungent, I’m grateful.
The sharp edge of the breeze is one that would soon grate against my skin and make it into my marrow, as I’ve experienced many times before in these primordial woods.
The forest slowly transforms before me. The once lively woods dampened to an eerie hush, barely any sounds at all.
The familiar trees from nearest Astoria have dwindled, now overtaken by hollow giants, ancient in their own right.
They’re so gargantuan Atop their crowns is a light dusting of snow that's begun to build.
I haven’t wandered these woods in decades. The spirits among the trees aren’t the only beings to haunt this forest. I try to recollect the exact time I passed through these trees and the revelation slaps me—it was well before my time with Eiliorah. Over two hundred turns around the sun.
The lightness I felt before is quickly snuffed out.
It will always be strange to realize I’ve been alive far longer than anyone is ever destined to be. Watching the world age before me was never something I would have dared to dream of, and yet, here I am.
Dahla’s tail slaps me in the face with a sudden swat, focusing my wandering thoughts back to the present. The ancient trees here and haunting mountains to my left are all I need to see to know where our journey has taken us.
The edge of the Siltar Woods. Once luscious and evergreen, now were laden with death and fraught with spirits. Thieves and murderers once would call it home, but King Euron dealt with that swiftly. One of the only things of goodness that came from his hand.
Now, only the strong and olden villagers remain to brave these woods. Heathens by King Euron’s standards, but merely a folk that worshiped older gods, people that were akin to me.
The Siltar Woods may scare most, but to me, they felt more like home, at least that was until I found my way to Eiliorah.
“What brings us to these sacred woods?” I force the gravel out of my throat and ask the question. It has Alora’s head turning slowly to me.
Her deep blue hood is pulled up over her hair, concealing the dark auburn locks.
Gods she looks like royalty up there, if I could watch her body sway with each step of her horse, I’d gladly become a fly and perch here for eternity on Dahla’s hind quarters.
“Interesting choice of words, Devourer.”
The way she says that name leaves me wanting to hear more.
I should hate it, but instead I could get lost in fantasizing about the way she rolls the r off her tongue.
If hearing her use that insult as my name can cause such elicit feelings, I yearn to hear her say my real name. Preferably accompanied with a moan.
Gods, can you imagine?
I roll my shoulders in an attempt to free myself of these confounding feelings. I’m her captive, being used as a pawn just as I have always been, but rather than loathe her, I’d sooner be under her delectable mercy.
“I only speak of these woods as they are. I am just wondering what significance they have for The Hidden.”
She looks around at me again, her gaze sharpening.
“I’m not sure what knowledge you would already know about us, and I’m inclined to keep it at a minimum, Devourer.”
“I know a great many things about you that you don’t realize.”
I feel my iron bonds pull tight, Dahla stepping quickly over a decaying log. My foot steps on the worm—eaten wood and punches through, trapping my leg.
“Damnit,” I mutter, realizing too late that Dahla isn’t stopping and I’m quickly yanked forward, my arms wrenching in their sockets.
My face crashes into a soggy pile of moss and sharp tree needles that are covered in hoarfrost.
My arm smarts as Dahla takes another step. The prospect of the horse tearing my arms from my body doesn’t sound appealing so I scramble to get to my feet again, but only succeed in stumbling to my knees once more.
This is becoming a regular occurrence, me falling face first into the forest floor. My wrists feel raw and angry against the biting iron of the culling bands but my arms have begun to ache so deeply that perhaps it would be better if they were ripped from me.
“This isn’t working.” Her voice rushes out in agitation.
Relief momentarily floods me, giving me a chance to heave myself into a standing position. Perspiration gathers on my brow, slowly dripping down into my eye. I do my best to clear the salty brine with my arm.
With my lungs on fire, I take slow, steadying breaths to calm them.
As one who trains frequently, the burn isn’t new, it’s usually welcomed. This feels different, like my body is being pushed until it willingly breaks.
“What do you want to do then? He damn well isn’t riding with me.” Caym spits out.
“I don’t trust him to not run off with a horse and back to King Euron.” Leeson whispers to Alora.
“Then he’ll ride with me. He’s bound by culling bands and his wrists are tied.”
Her leg swings over the saddle and she quickly lands on her feet, her skirts swaying from the leap down.
“A snowstorm is coming up fast and I’d like to make it farther than the next hillside before we’re forced to stop.”
She and Leeson exchange a long glance, like they did before when Leeson caught us in our stare down.
“We have to do something.” It almost sounds as if she’s pleading on my behalf.
I push the thought aside and rationalize what she’s requesting. We’re fucked if we keep this pace. If the storm doesn’t get to us first, the spirits will. And I doubt anyone in this party has thought to leave any offerings to the beings.
Caym slides off his saddle and walks toward me, and I tense.
Surprisingly, he unties my lead from Dahla and yanks me closer to Alora. It’s comical really. She’s well below my chest in height and tells me to sit behind her.
“I’m not sure this will work either.” I simply state the obvious, not expecting her face to twist as if I just slapped her.
“You don’t think I’m capable?”
“No, it’s not that.” Her cheeks begin to turn a crimson and I can’t help but watch the blush spread down her neck.
“Then what is the problem, Devourer?” She stares at me expectantly. There’s no way to avoid this.
“It’s just that… well you’re much smaller than me and I worry the weight of me will be too much for the mare if I’m on her back end.”
“You’re not leading her. She’s my horse even if you stole her from me for a time.”
The tenacity I hoped to hear from her returns and I can’t help tease more of it from her.
“She is a lovely thing, it would be a shame to hinder her ability.”
I catch the eyeroll Alora tries to hide.
She stares at me, before continuing. “We must do it this way, it’s the only way we gain back any lost distance.”
Her hands make a circling gesture. “I’m not sure if you’re too proud to ride behind me or whatever, but for our sake and yours, we need to be moving. There is no choice.”
I look at her, studying her eyes, catching a glimpse of hesitation or perhaps it’s self—consciousness. I can practically see the shimmer of anxiety slowly seeping out.
“I am not too proud.” I speak quietly, afraid she might think me callous. “I merely worry for your horse. She’s such a lovely creature and I don’t wish her lame.”