Chapter 6 #2
Water surged up my throat. Heaving, I vomited up the river, my chest spasming and burning as I gasped for oxygen.
Agony increasingly returned to my body, pumping blood into my arms, shaking them with fatigue from being pinned for so long.
Curling onto my side, I hacked and wheezed through the pain, tears spilling down my face.
He lay on his back next to me, coughing and sucking in air, his gaze on the sky above, water dripping down his skin.
I could see his blade still caught in his pants, but the axe and spear were gone, lost to the river’s bottom like an offering to the waterway to let us pass.
Neither one of us moved or spoke. The only sound was the rushing river nipping at our feet.
He had saved my life, but it wasn’t out of kindness. There was no doubt that dying by the river’s hand would have been better for me.
Trembling, I blinked my eyes, the light so distant behind the western tree line, it had to be deep into the night.
I twisted my head, noting the waterfall was nowhere in view.
I had no idea how far north the river had taken us, but the terrain was flatter, the trees only lightly topped with snow, the air warmer, as though the weather and landscape were shifting, taking me further from the wintery mountainous region where I grew up.
Was I completely out of reach of the dogs picking up my scent?
Reading my thoughts, the Northerner sat up with a grunt, his voice even more gravelly and raw. “Get up,” he demanded boorishly, rising to his feet, not even giving me the chance before yanking me up. His gaze went down to the rope on the ground.
Everything in me rebelled, my heart thumping at the idea of being bound again. “No.” My bruised vocal cords barely impelling the sound from my lips, my head shaking. Pleading.
Picking up a strand, he huffed out a snarl. The rope was sliced in small pieces, too short to use. “If you try to run? To scream . . .” His eyes blazed with hostility. “I don’t have to repeat myself, do I?” There wasn’t an ounce of doubt, he would follow through on his threat.
I nodded curtly, our gazes locking in a battle.
“Move.” His grip on my elbow tightened, pulling me along with him. The water-logged dress made me stagger, my body fighting fatigue, falling into him.
A noise came from his throat and he whirled back on me, forcing me to step back. Yanking the knife from his pants, he leaned over, hacking into the fabric. A gasp burned up my throat, the cloth tearing away above my knees.
“What are you doing?” Panic simmered in my chest, coiling my stomach, the cool air slithering over my skin.
As open as our kind was about our bodies and sex, we never showed our legs. Bosoms, yes; women put those on display every chance they got, but revealing our legs in public would have been scandalous. Especially for the White Raven. Weather and customs kept our dresses long.
“You can’t walk with all this extra weight.
” He stood up, tossing the bottom half of my dress into the river.
I watched it float away, tumbling in the current before disappearing downstream.
The occasion that dress had been made for, the reverence of what it symbolized, specifically designed for the marriage of the White Raven. Now it was nothing more than rubbish.
I had felt so beautiful and special when I put it on, believing the runes marked over my skin would bless me in matrimony, a new life set before me. The memories felt so na?ve and silly—the girl who stood looking at herself in the mirror, playing dress-up, never imagining what was ahead of her.
“Oh, I’m sorry, kanin.” His voice rumbled in my ear, hauling me from my reverie with a start. “Did you want to save his cum stain for posterity’s sake?”
“Fuck y—” I stopped myself, already knowing his response.
“You’re learning.” His mouth twitched, his eyes sparking. “Good girl.”
Abhorrence heated my skin, and I wanted to lurch for him, tear his heart out of his chest with my nails. Exhaustion would let him easily overcome me now, but with my arms free of their bondage, there was a chance I could fulfill my wish soon.
He clutched my arm, dragging me with him over the land, heading farther north. My short, ruined dress, exposing my bare legs, felt even heavier than it did before.
Daylight stretched down through the leaves in gauzy rays, dusting the skyline in a startling dimness, shivering my skin with trepidation.
I had never ventured outside of Silvervale, never known anything but daylight.
I grew up hearing stories about the northern lands.
The tales of their skies being the color of ink, their lives plunged in perpetual darkness, giving them only crusted tears of light peeking through, sparkling and taunting them with constant reminders of the curse that was brought down on us.
I knew he was taking us north, but the reality of our path hadn’t truly sunk in until I saw the change in the sky, nightfall hinting on the horizon, bringing to life what I read in books, but had no understanding of.
Fog rolled over the distant mountain, reflecting the dim sunlight, flickering dark purples, reds, and blues off the land, filling my vision with awed wonder.
I had never seen anything like it, the atmosphere like someone stirred up a pond, churning the blue water into a mosaic before it settled into a dirty shade of gray.
It petrified and thrilled me in a way that left me feeling ashamed. I shouldn’t be experiencing any kind of wonder or excitement. Not when Sarina was just two days dead and I was a prisoner. If I hadn’t left the banquet, none of this would’ve happened.
She would be alive.
The Northerner slowed, hand clamped on his knife as we strode through the woods, the thinning trees showing flat farmland just beyond. A small house stood in the distance, smoke coiling from the chimney. The ground was barely spotted with snow, the air feeling heavier.
As we stepped out of the forest, the shadows fell on us like a net. My chest heaved up and down and I blinked, breath catching when I peered down at my pale hands. I tried to brush off the tainted hue now coloring them, which painted everything in a strange dimness.
A small cry broke from my lips as I scrubbed harder.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” The Northerner glanced back at me, his lids narrowed, noticing my panic. “Have you never been to the Shadow Rifts? Never seen evening before?”
“Why would I?” I still struggled to speak, half whispering.
I had heard of the Shadow Rifts. It was where the cursed land of the Dusk Realm spilled out beyond its borders, consuming a strip of land between the north and east. Neither day nor night, the poisoned territory was unregulated and violent.
No one ruled over it. A neutral zone, that hid criminals and bandits.
“Get it off me.” I danced on my feet, hands frantically scraping at my exposed skin, my lashes fluttering, trying to clear the dimness.
“Get it off of you?” He scowled at me. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
I didn’t even know, but I couldn’t stop the anxiety from rising, the craving for brighter light to clear away the murkiness.
I wanted to feel safe again. To be home.
It was at this moment that I realized the danger of my situation.
I knew he was taking me north, but once I crossed into the Shadow Rift, it was going to be so much harder to find me.
Rescue me before we got to the north. King Vorian couldn’t let the kidnapping of the White Raven go unanswered.
And if I got to the Night Realm, war would be declared.
“Stop.” The thrall stepped up to me, his teeth gritted, looping his fingers around my wrists, hindering them from their hysterical movement. “Calm down.”
“Please . . .” I gasped, legs trembling, pleading for kindness he did not have. “Please, I can’t . . .”
Irritation bristled over him, his expression taut, forcing me to stay on my feet. “Stand up,” he ordered, though my frame only sagged further, the panic attack creating a pitched sound in my throat.
“Be quiet!” When I didn’t, he sighed with annoyance. “What is wrong with you?” He lowered me to the ground.
Wrapping my arms around my knees, I sucked in deep breaths, trying to slow my frenetic heart. Dizzy and hot, I rocked back and forth, trying to soothe myself.
He watched me warily, standing there until I quieted.
“I-I get panic attacks,” I muttered, continuing to pitch back and forth.
“Seriously?” His mouth pinched in response, his gaze looking away. Folding his arms, he waited another few minutes until I was breathing evenly.
“That’s enough. Let’s go.” He leaned over, hauling me up, his patience depleted. His long legs turned us straight for the house, his free hand regripping his blade.
“Wait.” Alarm tickled the back of my neck. “Where are you going?”
“To the house,” he answered. “We need clothes, food, and supplies.”
“But someone lives there.” I nodded to the dwelling, the windows glowing with warm firelight.
“Yes.”
“But . . .” I slowed my feet, my brows knotting. “What are you planning to do?” My father never told me a story where a Night Raven politely went to somebody’s door and asked for help.
They raped, pillaged, and murdered.
He huffed, dragging me forward.
“You can’t just hurt people to get what you want.”
He whipped around, causing me to slam into his chest.
“Why can’t I?”
“Because . . .” I shook my head. “It’s—”