Chapter 7
Itrailed after him to the worn one-story house, the structure badly in need of repairs. A decrepit rocking chair sat on the porch alongside a wood pile, but nothing besides the glow from the window showed any signs of the people who lived here.
The aged wood creaked under our weight as we sneaked up onto the porch. The Northerner peeked through the window, his gaze tracking what was inside.
“What?” I whispered.
He peered over at me like he was once again irritated I was there or dared speak to him.
“Only see one man. Asleep.”
Disappointment settled into my stomach. I had been hoping for a family. The more people, the better chances I had of getting away from my abductor. He wouldn’t let me go easily.
The Northerner moved to the door and without hesitation rammed his body into the wood, cracking through the entryway.
“Woah! Woah!” A man’s voice rose in panic as I raced in.
A shorter, heavyset man with brown hair, grey teasing at his temples, struggled out of his chair, arms up.
His light brown eyes were wide in fear, tightening my stomach in disappointment.
Definitely not a Day Raven, but he also didn’t have the black hair and eyes of a Night Raven.
“Don’t kill me. Anything I have is yours.
” His gaze darted to me and shock widened his eyes at seeing me enter right after the Northerner, but he quickly turned his attention back to the main threat.
“I was actually just cooking some stew.” He nodded to the black pot hanging in the fireplace, and the smell of boiling meat came into my nose.
“Gladly share with you. I also have some mead.”
The Night Raven pointed his large dagger at the man. He didn’t let down his guard, scanning the room looking for weapons, or someone else to come at us. I could feel his wariness, the ease with which he would slash this man’s throat if he made one move.
“Check the house. It’s only me.” The man picked up on it too. “I swear.”
“You. Come with me.” The Northerner motioned to the man with his knife. The man hesitated, but shuffled to the Northerner, swallowing roughly as the blade touched his throat. “If I find you lied, your throat will be slit before they can do anything and then I will gut them too. Understand?”
“Yes.” The man nodded, his throat bobbing.
They moved together, the older man shuffling like his bones ached.
They traveled through each of the three doors off the main room.
Each space held nothing more than a bed and side table and cupboard.
All the windows were boarded up and locked, looking like no one was really using them.
“See?” The Shadow Rifter motioned to the empty rooms. “It’s just me.” He swallowed against the knife. “You put that down and I can get you and your mate something to eat.” His eyes shot to me. The intimation of us being lovers flushed me with heat, tightening my muscles in disgust.
“He’s not—”
“Food and clothes.” My ex-thrall cut me off but didn’t release him from his hold.
“Of course. I think there are clothes in the cabinet in the bedroom.”
“You don’t have a horse here?”
“No.” The man shook his head. “It was taken from me a while back.”
A debate battled over the Northerner’s face, struggling to decide what to do with this man. I couldn’t let him die. He might be my only chance of escape.
“We don’t want to hurt you.” I stepped closer, laying my hand on the Night Raven’s arm, hoping he would follow my lead.
“I won’t make the same promise.” The Northerner scowled at my touch, and I dropped it quickly.
Fearing more bloodshed, I went on. “You won’t do anything stupid, right?”
“No.” The man shook his head, his hands going up again in earnest. “I swear. Let’s have some good food, and you can rest for the night before going on your way.”
“Sounds great. We appreciate that.” My eyes flicked up to my abductor. His lids were narrowed on me in rage, his jaw grinding. Tension grew between us, the knife primed to spray this man’s life all over the walls. “No one needs to lose their life tonight.”
The thrall exhaled, irritation rippling through him, letting the blade drop from the man’s neck, though he kept it pointed at him. “You make one wrong move, I won’t hesitate.”
“I believe you.” He kept his hands up, hobbling toward the fireplace. “Getting the stew from the fire.”
The Northerner watched him, the man grabbing a rag to retrieve the hot pot handle out of the flames. He carried it slowly over to the table. “Please, have a seat.”
The scent of the stew wasn’t like anything I had smelled before, but I had no idea what people in the Shadow Rift ate. I was served fresh hothouse-grown vegetables, meat, potatoes, lathered and sprinkled in delicious sauces and spices from the south.
The man moved around as though he was preparing for a dinner party, grabbing bowls, spoons, and cups. “Can you reach for the mead right behind you, lovely?” he asked me.
Relaxing at his open demeanor, I stretched around, plucking the bottle off the shelf.
“Here.” I set it down next to him. His gaze slid to me, his eyes rolling over my outfit, something crossing his face too fast for me to capture. My hand absently brushed for the fabric that wasn’t there, my exposed legs making me vulnerable. “Forbidden love?”
“What?” I choked.
He nodded at my obscenely short betrothal gown. “I am assuming you two are running away to be together?”
“Fuck n—”
“Where are these clothes?” my kidnapper interrupted.
“Oh.” The man shifted his attention back to him. “There should be some in that room.” He nodded to the nearest bedroom.
I could see the debate in the Northerner again, not trusting to leave me and this stranger alone together, which of course was all I wanted.
I couldn’t look eager; I needed his guard down.
“Go.” He flicked his head, ordering me into the other room instead. Forcing myself to not show my frustration, I nodded, walking by him. He leaned close to my ear. “Keep the door open.”
“Oh, young love,” the man chirped. “Can’t handle being out of each other’s sights for a moment.”
I wanted to laugh. His order wasn’t romantic; it was a warning.
Inside the dark bedroom, the only light streaming in from the main room, I opened the cupboard. The armoire was full of clothes—women’s, men’s, and even children’s, ranging in all sizes and styles.
My forehead wrinkled in confusion as I thumbed through the various garments. If he lived here alone, why would there be so many? Who did they belong to?
“Wow.” I swallowed, feeling something prickle up my spine as I spoke over my shoulder. “There is a lot here.”
“Oh, yes. Whoever lived here before must have left them.” The man responded easily. I shook my head, letting out a breath at the obvious explanation. The Northerner had gotten in my head. I was being silly.
My fingers drifted over a simple corset, the dark red matching skirt drawing my attention.
A thrill bubbled in my chest. I could pick anything I wanted.
Since I was a baby, I had always worn white, I never had any other color.
Our kingdom never wore bright or deep hues.
They always blended naturally with the wintry sky, mountains, and lake.
A smile wobbled on my mouth as I plucked the dark red fabric off the hanger. For once I wanted to wear something other than white. To not have the pressure of what white symbolized. And no one could blame me for choosing something that would allow me to blend in, to keep my identity safe.
Not caring if the Northerner watched, I quickly disrobed, tossing the white soiled gown on the floor, glad to be rid of the representation it now signified. Slipping into the new skirt and corset, I immediately realized my issue.
As the White Raven, I always had dressers. My handmaids helping me with every piece of clothing since I was a baby.
“Fuck.” I huffed, trying to reach around again, but couldn’t grasp the laces. There were other choices, dresses with front laces, but the design of this one was so beautiful the thought of letting it go firmed my resolve. I can do this.
“What the fuck is taking you so long?” The familiar harsh tone came into the bedroom.
I sighed, trying to thread the corset. “I need help.”
“What?” He heard me, he just didn’t like what he heard.
“I said. I. Need. Help.” Angry and accusing.
The men exchanged words, probably a threat from the Northerner before he stomped into the doorway.
“What is your problem?”
Fuck, I hated this man. I tried to keep my temper.
“I can’t lace the back.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me. Why not pick another one?” He pointed at the cupboard full of clothes.
My lids narrowed on him, my stubbornness setting in. Now it was on principle.
“I’m not your fucking thrall anymore,” he grumbled.
“Like you would ever have the honor of dressing me.”
“You think that is an honor? Wow . . . the pampered world you live in.” He shook his head. “Guess what, kanin . . . those handmaidens were thralls too, just with a nicer title.”
Indignation fired under my skin, gripping my hands into tight fists, the words to tell him to fuck off burning on my tongue. I whipped my head around, not wanting him to see how easily he could provoke me, how that comment burned in my gut.
“You are wrong,” I said through my teeth. “It is an honor to be a handmaiden of the White Raven. Girls dreamed of being one. Families raised daughters in hopes they’d be chosen!”
“Of course they did. You can believe anything if you are told it enough.”
“Fuck. You.” I stepped away from him, rage bubbling under my skin. I had to get away from him tonight. Reaching around, I yanked at the laces, trying to tie up the bodice, about ready to rip it off and grab another plainer corset.
He exhaled loudly, his footfalls crossing the floor. Except, they didn’t exit the room like I thought they would, they came toward me. Shock froze my breath when his huge frame stepped up behind me. I could feel the heat from him; the energy he seemed to carry with him engulfing my space.
I hated it.