by Terina Adams
I scrunched my eyes tight as he ran his tongue along the trail his nose had been. If I hit him, I could lose my head. But if he tried to rape me, I would do more than hit him, and I would gladly lose my head.
Once his tongue reached my wrist, he threw my hand away, spat on the floor, then wiped his mouth on his sleeve. I should’ve seen it coming by the way his features twisted and contorted in anger, but the slap was so fast, and what could I do to defend myself against a prince? “I do not take my brother’s scraps. Filthy whore.”
He pushed up from the bed and I had to dive for the candle in its holder before it toppled off the bed; being alone with him in the dark was too much for me to bear.
“I wanted to learn what strange allure you held to draw my brother in. What power you possessed that the courtiers lack. But I can see there is nothing remarkable in you. You’re just a dumb servant who was too stupid to think to cower before the ragool.”
Was that what this was about?
Hunrus paced the small confines of my room. “Cerac is a weak-minded fool. My father sees it.” He rushed toward me, lowering himself to the bed once more, leaning toward me with the intensity of his hatred. “Through the words of the people, he is called the spare. Who can have faith in a spare? Who could love a spare? His mother was a whore, a father for each son. But he is marked, and so my father coveted him.”
Or perhaps it was about jealousy. He eased back. “He’ll use you, put a baby in your belly and toss you to the streets.” He straightened his cuffs even though they looked pristinely in place. “That’s what you’re good for. That’s what any woman is good for. Fucking and babies.”
Although every instinct inside of me called out to refute him, argue with him, it was best I stayed quiet and let his ranting and hatred burn away. That way he would be more likely to leave me untouched. That way I would survive this encounter.
He stood once more and looked down on me. “I can’t believe I’m standing in front of the whore who has seen a ragool. Is this the girl who has spored the rumors of a courageous woman who dared to tackle the wraiths’ beasts?”
Hunrus had nothing but jealousy and rage in his heart. This was the man who would be king when his father died. And when that happened, he was likely to put a sword through Cerac’s heart.
“Have your day, whore, for I am going to show the people who they should love. I will reveal what you really are, a coward who will not save them. I will bury you and your lover.” He swept down and swiped the candle out of my hands and threw it across the floor. The flame extinguished against the wall with a heavy thunk and the night blanketed the room. I heard his pounding footfalls down the passage and slid down onto my bed. My hands trembled as I pulled the blanket up to my neck. The wash of fear ebbed out on a long breath, but it wasn’t just fear that trembled my hands. It was fury. I resumed staring up at the black ceiling and ran a mantra through my head. I will learn to fight.
18
Sophren and I forged to the front of the crowd as the soldiers’ horses went by, the clop of their hooves on the street sounding like a death march to the prisoners. These were the gatherers, and this was their death march. The people might have chosen not to believe in the roaming ragool, but they believed in the wraiths and that crossing into the dead forest was a fate worse than death.
Already they looked too frail to make the distance to the dead forest. Their clothes had turned to lace with age, revealing gaunt bodies covered in grime tattooed to their sallow skin. Lifeless eyes looked out of hollowed faces. Their teeth were chipped and blackened or missing. Whispers and prayers followed their procession as they dragged their bare, cracked feet through the dirt, shuffling past the crowd of onlookers. The living dead were my words for them.
Some in the crowd had diverted their faces as a silent protest to something they could not stop. More craned their necks around those in front to get a better view. A person’s misfortune seemed to fascinate many people. Maybe it made them feel lucky it wasn’t them marching to their doom, but fate could switch in a moment.
I’d seen enough. I pushed back through the crowd only to meet with the chest of a horse. I craned up to see the merciless face of one of the prince’s soldiers and the point of his sword leveled at my throat.
“Get back in the crowd,” he sneered.
Sophren appeared at my side, grabbing my hand and pulling me to the back of the crowd.
“I should’ve mentioned the soldiers won’t let you leave the procession until the gatherers are out of view.”
“Why do they force us to watch those poor souls being dragged to their deaths?” I’d never felt so tortured by my anger before.
“To teach us a lesson. This is what happens if you defy the king. Many accept the dungeons, wrongdoers need to be punished, but most of the unfortunates paraded through the streets as gatherers are little more than men who spoke against the king. Their crime was to complain against an unfair decision handed down by the king’s clergy, or having their son forcefully taken to join the ranks of the army. It is wrong to be forced to cross into the dead forest…” Sophren slowly shook her head, unable to find her usual cheerful expression.
“They are expected to walk the whole way? Like they are?”
“No. The king likes to make them walk the city streets as a parade for the people, but once they reach the gate, they are put in a cart and driven to the edge of the dead forest.”
I stared at the back of a man’s head, my jaw clenched tight while I concentrated on the tightness in my chest. It felt as though a wild beast hid within the depths of my breast, waiting to burst free. My tension and anger were plain to see, or perhaps it was passing from me as a force of barely contained will into Sophren through our hands, for she squeezed mine and offered me a small smile.
She ducked her head and whispered, “You have to accept this, for there is naught you can do. And if you let the anger build, you will find yourself as the gatherer paraded through the streets.”
She was right. Just as it was impossible to change the rains when the crop was failing, or to bring back a life when the last breath was taken.
Once we no longer heard the clop of the horses, the soldiers turned their mounts away and headed back toward the castle, leaving the crowd to disperse in solemn silence.
“There it is done, and now we must forget it and get back to our work.”
“How often does he send gatherers?”
“As his marked army grows, so too does his need for the toxin that will strengthen them. Penris told me he heard the king had given his marked an extra dose in hope it would make them even stronger, but it made no difference. So now he gives them the minimum amount, for there is always fear the flowers will not be found.”
“What about Cer—” I stumbled on his name. No one else at the arena dared call the master by his first name. “The master? Does the king allow him to have some of the liquid?”
“Lord, no.”
“But it was said he was an equal to his brother?”
“It seems the master doesn’t need the flower to develop his ability. I’m sure it is a dagger to the prince that his hated brother is better than he in every way.”
I turned at the sound of my name to see Fednick weaving through the crowd toward us, panting, his face flushed.
“Rya, a message.” He came to a halt in front of us, brandishing paper in his hand. It was folded multiple times and sealed with wax bearing no official stamp. Sophren snatched it from my hand and turned it over a few times, examining it for any distinguishing features.
“There is no indication as to the sender. Who gave it to you?”
“One of Roberto’s sons.”
Sophren’s eyes flared wide. “Rya, what have you been up to? You’ve been to his store once. Oh my blessed stars, you did meet someone on our freedom night?” She tugged at my arm. “So you didn’t just head straight back to your room.”
“I did not lie. I headed straight back.”
“Then thi
s man is being very presumptuous in sending you a message having only met you once. But when did this happen? You said you never met anyone that day you escaped me and raced home with the herb bag. He must be desperately in love.”
“Or just plain desperate,” I said, holding my hand out for the piece of paper.
She handed it to me, nudging my shoulder. “Well, go on. Open it. I’m dying to hear what he has to say.”
I slipped the paper into my pocket. “Later.”
At Sophren’s disgruntled look, I pulled her forward toward the arena. “No doubt it will become gossip soon enough, so don’t worry, you will find out what it says at some point.”
She screwed her nose up at me and stomped along like a petulant child. But once we were back inside, I found my excuse to leave her and headed for some torchlight under which to read the message. I tore at the paper, ripping it open from the wax. My eyes gobbled up the words as my heart fluttered around my chest.
Cerac asked me to join him. It was a daring request, and wildly exciting. My feet couldn’t carry me fast enough to my room. The dim light from down the passage shone across my bed. Spread atop my blanket as promised, I found a set of boys’ clothes, judged by Cerac to be a close approximate of my size.
I lit the flint and wasted precious candle, then retraced my steps to shut my door. Locked within my room, I shed my only clothes and climbed into the strange outfit. Cerac had chosen well for the boys’ breeches and shirt fit like a glove. I bound my hair behind my back, then slipped it down my shirt and finished off the disguise with a patch covering one eye and a cap. To those who knew me, it would be an ill disguise, but if I made it out of the arena without being seen, I could blend with the crowd and disappear to where Cerac waited.
With everyone busy elsewhere, escape from inside was easy. Heart racing faster than my feet, I sped to the end of the wall of the arena farthest from the castle and into a side alley. Few had remained from the gatherers’ procession, and of those who still mingled in the street, none bothered with a peasant boy. I was beneath their notice.
My boots smacked on the cobbles as I dashed along the alley. The instructions had grown vague on what I was to do once I reached the alley and so I slowed to a quick step, catching one glimpse behind me to assure myself no one was following.
An arm wrapped around my waist and swiped me from the ground. I was swept sideways into a smaller side alley and spun until my back was to the brickwork. I gasped, half out of breath from my run, half out of breath with surprise, but firm hands settled either side of my waist and I stared up into Cerac’s eyes. A burst of good tingles covered my body.
“Cer—”
He lifted the patch from my eye, knocking off my hat as his mouth stole the rest of his name, his breath hot and sweet, tasting of cinnamon pastry. The shock at the speed to which he took me slowed my response. But the demanding skill of his mouth soon wiped any hesitation away. It was my body that responded for me, leaving my mind struggling to catch up. More than a moon it had been since a man had touched me like this. Any man and I would’ve bit his lip and punched him in the face. But Cerac, how many times had I stared at his lips and wondered what they would feel like against mine, desired the feel of his body pressed alongside me, with his hands mapping every part of me, learning secret places only one other had ever known.
My hands were in his hair, raking and pulling through his copper strands just as my body pressed firm against his. I drowned a dozen times in the pleasure of his rough, desperate kiss and whimpered my loss when his lips left mine to feather their way down the side of my neck. A strange buzzing feeling rushed throughout my body, stripping my restraints, releasing something wild.
I clawed at his shirt and rocked against his body as his tongue teased wet trails over my skin. I tumbled into a dark and desirous abyss of need and yearning for our bodies to be united and moaned that leashed craving to the sky as my head arched back against the brick wall.
Cerac tore himself away from me, his eyes flashing wild lust. My body responded with a savage ache at being so cruelly denied. “No, don’t—”
He ran a finger across my lips but kept his body from mine. His eyes dipped from mine to his finger as it began a hypnotizing swirl along my bottom lip, turning the heat recently cooled into a growing fire. This was torture for him as much as for me. It showed in the burning greed of his eyes and the parting of his lips while he tormented us both with his finger game.
He placed a hand on the wall beside my head as he closed his eyes and rested a palm over my face, only to draw it down to my throat, where his fingers splayed on my sensitive skin.
His mouth dusted mine. “You’re unleashing me, Rya.”
And you the same to me.
Cerac moved away to draw up his sleeve and revealed his mark, which glowed golden. He let his arm drop and turned away, running his fingers through his hair. “We have to slow this down,” he said, keeping his back to me.
I came up behind him. “I’m sorry, did I—”
He spun and scooped me into his chest. “Lord, no, don’t you dare think this is your fault. This is not normally how it goes. The mark, I mean. It doesn’t glow when I’m… Sorry, I don’t want to say any more.”
“I hope it’s better than how it normally is.”
He squeezed me tight. “My words are inadequate.”
“Can I see?” I said after he’d held me long enough. I struggled to get another breath, buried as I was in his arms.
The gold was a pure illumination of sun, a small piece fallen from the sky and embedded in his forearm. With my hand close, a ray of warmth washed up and through my fingers. When I touched the skin, the warmth turned to a pleasant heat that transformed into an intense vibration, spreading fast up my arm. I closed my eyes as the feeling continued to move throughout my body. I gulped a big breath in, unsteady with the sensation.
“What do you feel?” Cerac asked with a big sigh. One hand touched my cheek.
I looked up at him to see his expression, a meld of fascination and pleasure.
When I spoke, my breath was also affected. “The same as you, I’d say.”
This was a different kind of pleasure to any brought on by a lover’s touch. The feeling came from deep within and not on the surface of the skin. It set everything inside of me dancing, like my skin could no longer contain me, like something inside burned to break free.
“I’ve never felt this before,” Cerac said. He seized my hand and pulled it away, then rested his fist to his forehead. “It’s too much.”
As if afraid he’d offended me, he drew my hand up to his lips and kissed it.
“Your hand’s very warm.”
“It’s a gift from you.”
He pressed his forehead to mine. “A gift I gladly bestow.”
“What happened, do you suppose?”
“I don’t know. Are you all right?”
“I’ve never felt better in my life.”
I fell into his embrace, dizzy with the strange and powerful sensations that continued to roll throughout my body.
We stayed like this for a while longer until Cerac gently pushed me away. “This is not why I sent for you, although it has been a most welcome distraction from my true purpose.” He quirked an eyebrow. “Have you ridden a horse before?”
I blinked, still to land on the ground after the heady heights I’d just reached. “No, and I can’t say I would look forward to the opportunity.”
He bent to scoop up my disguise, then laced our fingers and gently pulled me farther toward the end of the side alley. “Since I’ve discovered tunnels are not your choice, I thought it best we traveled above ground.”
His smile was full of mischief. “Now that I know the sort of greeting I will receive when I dress you in boys’ clothes and send you into the street, I will choose above ground over below.”
“And this explains your chosen attire.” My eyes walked over his body.
“You like the look of a courtier?” He slowed
to hold his arms wide, showing of his light green tailored breeches and vest.
“I liked you better in your clothes, but this will do.”
I would like you better out of any clothes. The thought curled my lips into a smile.
At the end of the alley, we came upon his horse.
“Just the one?”
“I suspected you had not ridden and so thought it best you should travel behind me. All you have to do then is hold on tight. Now, I want you to stand here.”
I was positioned next to the horse’s flanks, then Cerac handed me my disguise and gave me a few moments to settle it into place. With one smooth hitch, Cerac placed me on the horse’s rump and he slid into the saddle. I leaned into him, burying my cheek into his warm back as he turned the horse around and encouraged her into a trot. I barely saw our passage through the city because I kept my head snuggled in close to his back and savored the soft feel of his material against my skin and the warm curve of his back pressed along my breasts.
Seeing a courtier approach, the gatekeepers waved us through and we were out into the wilderness, racing across the fields. I pressed my thighs tight to the horse, my cheek firm to Cerac’s back, my arms manacled around his waist. I was scared, I was exhilarated, I was totally alive. A wild glean fought to free itself from my lips but instead I turned it into a squeal of laughter.
Cerac slowed us into a clearing hidden in the middle of a thicket of trees. Once down, he motioned for me to slide into the cradle of his arms, but once on my feet, my legs gave way, my muscles weak from gripping so tight for so long.
“Maybe you should sit down,” Cerac laughed. “Rest a moment while I get the swords.”
He lowered me onto a log, then came back with the same sword I’d used during our first session. “I thought you looked comfortable with this one.”
He placed it beside me and handed me a water skin. “Drink first and rest, then we will begin.”
Instead of resting, he treated me to a show of sweeps and swings of his sword as he limbered his arm muscles.
