Chapter 12
The stairs creaked noisily, the weary wood resenting every step on its old bones as we ascended to the second floor.
The oil lamp Frida held scarcely cut through the shadows, our misshapen silhouettes bouncing off the windowless walls.
Even though the air was slightly more temperate here, the darkness crept into my bones with a chill, warning me how far I was away from home, and how close I was to the Night Realm.
Or maybe it was the frosty aura surrounding me.
Frida led the way up to a room, while her ex-lover stayed close on my heels, sticking me in the middle like a buffer.
Her rigid shoulders and curt responses screamed her discontentment and hurt, her expression straining when she opened the door to the room, ushering us in, seeing me as the one filling his bed tonight and not her.
I wanted to scream it wasn’t like that that I was his prisoner. If anything, I’d love for her to distract him, take his attention away while I made a run for it. What if the king already had men here on the lookout for me? Were any of the Day Ravens downstairs spies of my father’s?
“There is water in the pitcher.” Frida’s strained voice cut through my thoughts. She lit an oil lamp on a table under the window, flickering a glow into the small room. She nodded to a bowl and jug on the nightstand next to the bed. “The toilet chamber is down the hall.”
A decrepit wood-framed bed, half the size of the one I had slept on at home, was tucked into the corner with a nightstand and covered with threadbare blankets the color of muck.
There was a writing table under the window facing the street below, and an unlit fireplace on the opposite wall of the bed.
“If you need anything else . . .” Every word was strained.
“No.” The Northerner she called Onyx shook his head. “We are good.”
She dipped her head, her mouth pursing, hurt bleeding into her eyes. She cleared her throat taking the coins he offered her, and hurried out of the room, slamming the door.
Tension crawled in after she departed, the noise from below hardly muffled through the thin floors. He strolled over to the table under the window.
“If you missed the hint . . .” I broke the silence. “She wanted to bed you again.”
He set down the saddlebags, ignoring me.
“She thinks you’re here with me.” I made a face. “Probably want to let her know that is not the case at all.”
His muteness had me shifting on my feet, filling the silence.
“If you want to go—” I motioned for the door. “By no means do I want to be the one who stands in your way.”
His glower shot over to me again, a huff under his breath. He reached up, yanking the linen curtain from the rod. Surprise slammed my mouth shut, my brows furrowing as I watched him shred the curtain into strips.
“What are you do—” I stumbled back, his powerful build coming for me, a hand latching onto my arm. “Do-ing?”
A roguish smile hinted on his lips as he wrapped the fabric around my wrists.
“No,” I croaked, my heart speeding up, trying to jerk from his grip. Cinching down, the fabric pinned my palms together until my bones ached. “Please.”
“Please, what?” Gravelly, he spoke low to me, a taunt in his manner.
My gaze lifted to his, not sure what I was pleading for.
“You have proven I can’t trust my rabbit not to flee.” He tied off the binding, tugging hard on it. “And I can’t have that. Nor can I have you crying for help.” He took another strip and brought it to my mouth.
Fear coiled up and I lashed out in anger, trying to fight as he slipped the fabric between my lips.
“Noooo!” I muttered, kicking my legs and swinging my arms, but nothing seemed to deter him.
“Wasting your energy.” He dragged me to the rug in front of the empty fireplace. “Lie down.”
Deep rage crackled through my chest, surging me with venom. I did not bend. I would not.
A White Raven never bent the knee.
He smirked at me like I was an insolent child. He took a long slip of fabric, knotting my wrists off to an iron rung on the fireplace which would normally hold a fire poker and broom. Both unfortunately were absent.
He rechecked all my bindings before peering down at me. “Behave while I’m gone, will you?”
He was leaving me? Where was he going?
He started to turn but stopped himself, coming over to me.
“To answer your question . . . if I wanted to fuck her again, I would.” He seemed to get closer to me. “And they always want me back in their bed. I eat their pussy until they go blind, and then I fuck them until they black out.”
Heat instantly flushed through me at his words, pooling down between my thighs.
He pivoted, picking up the saddlebag and stomping out of the room. I could hear it lock, his boots descending the stairs, leaving me tied up in the wake of his claim.
Hot, raging tears burned behind my lids. I felt itchy under my skin, that something was very wrong with me. Nothing had felt right since the night of my betrothal, when my whole world came undone.
Sinking down on the rug, I stared at the fading painted runes covering my hands.
The innocence I held when Ingrid rendered them onto my skin before the betrothal dinner.
The motherly advice she gave me about my wedding night to Brynden, while Sarina struggled not to laugh behind her, knowing we knew far more than she did.
A sob wrenched through me, the agony of Sarina’s memory tearing at me.
Missing Ingrid’s comforting manner. I never had a mother, never had someone love me unconditionally.
Ingrid was the closest I had, yet still I was kept at arm’s length.
As the White Raven I was to be held above everyone else.
A label that was a tax around my neck, a toll that grew heavier by the day.
Sarina was the only one who didn’t give a fuck about my title. Her eyes rolling every time someone bowed to me, snorting when someone called me “my lady.”
I wanted to go home. To be little girls running in the forest again, oblivious to grown-up problems and responsibilities.
To see Father hide his smile when we came in dirty and full of tales as children.
He’d want to berate me, tell me I should be a reflection of my title, but Sarina would always distract him, make him laugh instead.
Over time he lost that laugh, became colder and more rigid, cutting me off from any love he used to show me. I had to search for it in his criticism and demands. The scarce moments he’d look upon me with a kinder eye and voice.
Exhaustion lowered my barriers, allowing sorrow to finally consume me. My body shook as the tears flooded, truly grieving Sarina, my father, my life, knowing whatever was in front of me I would not survive.
Whatever it took, I couldn’t let myself reach the Night Kingdom.
A gnawing sound resonated in my ears, pulling me from a deep slumber curled in a tight ball on the rug. My puffy eyes struggled to open, head pounding with dehydration, bladder full of ale. A streetlamp from outside cast a dim light through the curtainless window.
I didn’t remember falling asleep. My body no longer was able to evade the fatigue consuming it, pulling it down to where I felt some relief from the pain.
Cold and aching, I forced my lids to fully open, taking in the empty room, the bed vacant of his shape.
Where was he?
Chewing ticked at my eardrums, the noise reminding me of rats munching on the grain bags we stored in the kitchen back home. My eyes made out a tiny form gnawing on the fabric around my mouth.
“What the fuck?” I jolted up, a squeak coming from it as it hit the floor.
The gag covering my mouth fell to the floor, freeing my tongue. I gaped at the tiny twig-looking creature blinking back at me with its large black eyes, thin roots curling off its head and body like baby hair.
Half of its arm was missing.
“Huginn-Muninn,” I whispered. “You’re the same one from the tower . . .” I trailed off, recalling how the other ones bullied him. “How are you here?”
It tipped its head like it was trying to understand me. A twittering sound like a purr vibrated from it.
“Did you follow us?”
It tipped its head in the opposite direction, huge dark eyes staring up at me.
“The satchel.” I spoke to myself, looking at the table where the Northerner had set it down earlier. “You were in the saddlebag, weren’t you?”
It made a clicking sound, sniffing at the cloth wrapped around my wrists.
“What are you?” We had a lot of creatures in the Day Realm forests, but nothing like this. It really looked like a plant root or twig come to life.
The twig’s tiny grey tongue peeked out, licking the fabric, and a purr hummed from it before its mouth opened wide, displaying large fangs for its body.
“Fuck!” I jumped as its teeth sank into the bonds around my wrists, chomping down with ferociousness, the sweet-looking creature turning feral, devouring the restraints. Terrified the thing was going to start into my flesh, I yanked my arms away with a yelp.
With a rattled click, it tore off under the bed, my rash movements frightening it. I instantly regretted my reaction. Shredded fabric still clung to my wrists, tying me to the fireplace, but it would take only a few more nibbles for them to snap.
“Hey?” I peered under the bed. “I’m sorry I scared you.”
Silence.
“Please, come back. I won’t hurt you. I promise.” No response. “Please? You can eat all the cloth you want.”
A barely audible twitter came from under the bed before it peeked back out.
“Yes.” I encouraged. “It’s okay.”
It timidly inched closer.
“I promise not to react like that again. You just startled me.” I spoke to it as it slowly came back into view. Huge doe-eyes stared at me with reservation.
“Here.” I lowered my bound arms to it. “You like to eat fabric and shoelaces, huh?”