Chapter 15
Iwoke with a start, my eyes bolting open to darkness, a blindfold stealing my sight, the stench of hay, oats, and an oily odor coating my nostrils.
My body rocked to the sway of the wagon, the taste of vomit in my mouth, my wrists and ankles bound like I was no more than a dead animal prepped for a spit.
With no sense of how much time had passed, I tried to focus on their voices around me. The men spoke to each other with uninhibited volume, their voices driving more searing pain through my head like a knife, but that wasn’t what woke me up.
The tattoo itched and throbbed, prickling to the point I had to bite back the whimper rolling around on my tongue. Sweat gathered behind my neck, my entire form feeling hot, sticky, and exceptionally restless, wanting to tear off my skin. Lying still was utter torture.
The fucking Northerner must have used a dirty needle between us, infecting my wounds with whatever contamination he had.
“We’re home!” The Boss’s mocking tone rang out, the cart coming to a jerking stop, lurching my frame against the side. “Put the new merchandise over there.”
“Gladly,” a malicious timbre snarled close to me. Hands gripped my tied arms and tugged me up. By the tone I knew it was the Day Raven. His hatred of me sang through his aura and spilled in venomous rage.
He yanked me from the cart, my ankles and arms pinned, throwing me forward. I slammed painfully onto my knees, my face skidding over the rocky ground.
Mocking laughs echoed in the air. The glee in their dominance over me was palpable. They wanted to humiliate and belittle me just for being a Day Raven.
What if they recognized me or found out my title? I swallowed back the terror building up in my esophagus.
Arms wrenched me up to my feet and I was shoved forward. “Move.” Shuffling, my shoes scraped over the ground. The sound of a crackling fire drifted warmth through my layers; the feeling of other people crackled the air around me.
“Sit.” The Day Raven backed me up, pushing on my shoulders. My ass hit a log as he ripped off the hood from my head. Blinking, my vision focused on the minimal campsite. Several youthful women and men sat around the fire, their hands and legs bound, a long rope securing them to a tree as well.
“Now sit and obey,” the Day Raven ordered. His eyes were hungry for pain. Dominance. “It’s what your kind has been bred to do.”
“Isn’t that your kind too?” I retaliated. I was so used to speaking freely with others, limiting my words only with my father.
The slap came sharp and fast. Pain bulging behind my eye and throbbing my cheek.
“You speak when we tell you!” He showed his yellowing teeth.
“And I may have been born from a Day whore, but I am nothing like you. I wouldn’t abandon my people in the Dusk Realm to die.
” His gaze went to my long hair, the detailed braids weaved at my scalp.
A sign of privilege. His nose wrinkled. “You probably worship your king, don’t you, think he is a hero?
When he is no different than any other tyrant. ”
“Hvit!” the Boss yelled. “I said stop damaging the merchandise! Go feed the horses!”
The man, Hvit, snarled, looking like he was ready to strike me again, but he stepped back.
“You move and no one will stop me from ramming my blade through your gut, tispe.” In a huff, he stomped away.
“You don’t want to make him mad,” a male voice whispered next to me. “Don’t look at me, keep your head forward.”
Keeping my head straight, I let my eyes drift to the person sitting next to me, a youngish man with dark hair and eyes of deep indigo, like the darkest twilight. A Shadow Rifter.
“He really hates Day Ravens.” His voice wobbled at the last part, a brokenness in his tone, capturing more of my attention.
“But he is one.”
“That doesn’t mean anything here,” he muttered.
My gaze drifted over the group, and the familiarity of a few of their faces pulled my memory from the night before. They were the ones the Boss had been trying to sell at auction, but the two Day Ravens were gone.
“There were two Day Ravens in this group before?”
In my periphery, his head bowed forward, his expression crumbling with pain. “Yes.”
“What happened to them?” I knew the answer, but I still needed to hear it.
“They were sold.” A sob strangled his vocals. “Yrsa and Ulf. They were twins.” He tipped back his head, blinking his lashes. “Yrsa was my wife.”
Shock jerked my head to him but quickly looked away. “But . . .”
“I’m a Shadow Rifter and she is a Day Raven?” He finished my sentence. “Yes. We are the forbidden love story.” He exhaled. “We met in Beggar’s Hole as adolescents.”
“Silverguard.” I breathed out.
“You know of it?”
“Unfortunately.”
“We didn’t care that there had been a war between our towns or the fact we were supposed to hate each other.
We were very young. We fell in love. Imprudent to the obstacles, we secretly married even though we knew it was against her laws.
” He swallowed. “When her parents found out . . . they went to King Stallard for leniency.” He swallowed and so did I. “He ordered her death instead.”
“What?” My head started wagging, denying my father would have a young girl murdered because of who she loved. “He wouldn’t do that.”
He scoffed, like that was the most foolish thing he ever heard.
“He ordered her brother’s death too, for being an accomplice in her treachery.
” He rubbed his face on his sleeve. “They escaped to come back to me . . .” His shoulders shook in silent sobs.
“And all it eventually did was get them sold as thralls. A life worse than death.”
I sat on an open sea, trying to stabilize my thoughts and emotions, trying to rectify everything I grew up knowing with the cruel man these people kept describing.
King Vorian was fierce and commanding, yes, all kings had to be, to keep their throne secure.
But killing a young girl just because she fell in love with an outsider?
“You’re wrong,” I muttered, shaking my head.
“I saw the brutality of King Stallard firsthand.” His neck popped with a vein. “Believe me, he has no mercy or forgiveness. Especially for anything threatening his rule.”
“Do you know why the White Raven was fated by our deities to be the only child born?” Father didn’t wait for my response.
“Because they knew Day Ravens were the rightful rulers. The ones to heal this world and lead it back into prominence and power once again.” His hand came down on my little six-year-old shoulder, squeezing.
“Understand the significance of your role, Wrennlyn, the part you play in making sure that comes true.
“We have to be dedicated and do anything to achieve it. No matter how hard it seems. I must lead this realm, protect the White Raven until she is called upon by the powers of Huginn and Muninn in her nineteenth year. That is my duty. And I will destroy anyone and anything who threatens that future.” He touched my chin, drawing my head back up to him.
“Their lives are nothing when it comes to the greater good.”
“Hey?” A figure stepped into my view, breaking me from my recollections.
The Boss stood over me, his greasy hair curling into his eyes, his lustful gaze prowling down me.
“I think it’s time to check out the goods.
Want to make sure I get the best price for you.
” His touch slithered to my cloak, untying it, the wool slipping off my shoulders.
His leering grin dissolved from his face, his attention moving down my marked throat to my chest. He stepped back. “What the fuck . . .” He retook the space, his hand yanking my chin up, scanning my tattoo closer. “Rev?” he yelled out. “Get over here.”
The man I hit earlier when trying to escape stepped forward, his eyes so dark it was unnerving.
“Look at this.” Boss pointed to my ink, peering at him. “Is that what I think it is?”
Rev leaned over, examining my throat. He inhaled deeply, his back straightening, peering down at me with a twinge of fear.
“Yeah, Boss, that’s his mark.”
“Fuck!” Boss bellowed, his hand running through his hair, stomping a few feet away. “fuck!” he screamed louder before regaining himself. He returned, gesturing frantically at me. “You’re saying of all the girls we happen to steal, we take his?” There was an importance to this person. A fear.
“Yes.” Rev continued to stand there, his frame stiff, his expression unreadable, except for a thread of wariness.
“Shit. Shit. Shit.” Boss paced in a circle. “What do we do? We let her go? No harm, no foul.”
“He will still come after us.”
“Then what?” Boss exclaimed.
“We wait,” Rev replied, sounding like they were all condemned to death.
“This is the Svart Vinge.” Black Wing. “You want us to wait? We wait; we die!”
“It’s already too late.” A large, hooded figure stepped out of the dark forest, his tone raspy and low, the threat of violence in every molecule he took up.
Every head whipped to the massive silhouette and the outline of a scythe in his hand, appearing like Death had come to claim its fatalities.
“You touched what is mine.” He growled, stepping closer.
“We didn’t know!” Boss held out his hands, stepping back, gesturing at me. “You can take her.”
Moving closer to the fire, the flames flickering off Onyx’s face, his gaze intent on the Boss. “That’s not how this works.”
The Northerner advanced for the men, the curve of his scythe cutting through the air for the leader. The Boss yelped, leaping back, the blade slicing through his clothes, leaving a trail of blood.
“No!” K?mpe came running from the side, his fist slamming into Onyx before the Northerner could swing toward him, toppling both men to the ground in a billowing cloud of chaos.
“Don’t just stand there!” Boss screamed at his other men, bending over in pain. Rev leaped into the fight, doubling up on the Northerner. Onyx had regained his feet, stabbing a blade into Rev’s side, the scythe whirling to chop into K?mpe.