‘Where is this rift?’ she asked.
Orelle smiled at her and ignored the question. ‘Are you hungry?’ She pushed the strange plant she’d been chopping across the table towards Sloane. Sloane eyed the plant suspiciously and shook her head, ignoring the growling in her stomach.
‘You really should eat something. You need your strength to help you recover.’
‘No, I’m fine,’ Sloane replied, though she glanced at the plant again. It certainly didn’t look edible.
‘We don’t need to eat for sustenance, and when we do eat it’s infrequent. You need to tell me when you’re hungry.’ Orelle said it kindly; as though she was genuinely concerned Sloane may not eat enough.
Sloane sighed and sat at the table, taking a piece of the strange plant. If these people wanted her dead, they’d already had plenty of opportunities to be rid of her. They’d hardly poison her now.
‘What is it?’ she asked, before putting it in her mouth.
‘It’s rashi; a plant that grows from small outcroppings on the cliffs. It’s very difficult to get, but the taste is worth it.’
Sloane screwed up her face and gave the plant a whiff. There wasn’t any distinctive smell to it, so she shrugged and placed the whole piece of rashi in her mouth. She frowned as she chewed on it. It was sweet, but also a little spicy. Not at all what she expected. It wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t good enough to risk your life climbing a cliff for. At least it was better than it looked.
‘Why don’t you eat?’ Sloane asked, reaching for another piece.
‘We don’t need to,’ Orelle replied. Her eyes dropped away from Sloane’s quickly, as if she were hiding something. ‘What do you think?’ Orelle asked, moving past Sloane’s question.
Sloane looked at the rashi in her hand, unsure how to respond.
Orelle laughed. ‘Let me guess, you’re more of a chocolate girl?’
‘You have chocolate?’ she asked.
‘No, but there are many things we know of Earth,’ Orelle responded, with a knowing look.
Sloane paused as she watched the woman. ‘Who are you people?’
Orelle smiled and took a piece of the rashi for herself. ‘We are the Unfaih clan of the Whispering Cliffs.’
‘Well, that explains everything,’ Sloane muttered under her breath. Orelle may as well have been speaking in another language for all she understood of that.
The flap to the hut opened behind Sloane, and she felt a waft of crisp air from outside hit her as someone entered. Her back went rigid, and she swallowed tightly as she felt the other presence in the room. She didn’t need to turn to know it was him.
Rhyn spoke to Orelle in a language Sloane could not understand. His voice was deep and the language, though foreign, did not feel totally unfamiliar. It was almost Scandinavian in nature and, while Sloane was confident with most Scandinavian languages, she could not understand the words he spoke.
Orelle’s voice rose as she said something to Rhyn in the same tongue. Her tone was blunt, and it sounded unexpectedly harsh from such a gentle woman. She stood up from the table, drawing her shoulders back. Seeing her stand, Sloane realised Orelle was taller than she was. She rarely met women the same height as her, let alone taller.
Sloane picked up another piece of rashi. While her hand was by the bowl, she subtly moved it to hover over the knife Orelle had been using. With one quick movement she slipped the knife up her sleeve. She turned to look at Orelle, but the woman was intensely focused on Rhyn. Neither seemed to have noticed Sloane take the knife.
Orelle and Rhyn stood in tense silence, before the woman picked up her cane and moved gracefully into one of the other rooms without another word. Sloane sat quietly, waiting for Rhyn to leave too. The air in the room buzzed with tension, and she hated that she couldn’t see him. She desperately wanted to turn to him, but didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.
‘I see you’re awake,’ he eventually said. He spoke in perfect English, though his accent was thick. He walked to the side of the table so he could look her in the eye. She’d forgotten how incredibly handsome he was, and it took her a moment to remember his mean right hook.
‘I see you speak English,’ Sloane responded. She didn’t like the way he studied her, so she looked away from him and picked up another piece of rashi. She turned the plant over in her fingers. ‘Why have you brought me here? When can I go back to my crew?’
Rhyn did not answer her straight away, and after waiting a few moments Sloane looked up at him. He was frowning slightly, but the look quickly dropped when he caught her eye.
She stood and paced to the opposite side of the table from him. She couldn’t easily defend herself if she was sitting, and she wanted to keep two eyes on the man. The cool metal of the knife tucked in her sleeve was a comfort, but she hoped she wouldn’t have to use it. She’d never met someone so fast and strong before, and she wasn’t exactly keen for a rematch—she wasn’t stupid. Although the more irrational part of her brain desperately wanted to see if she could take him in round two.
‘I am the one asking the questions,’ he said simply, resting his hands down on the table between them.
Sloane stiffened at his tone. She didn’t like being given commands. She especially didn’t like the authority in his voice.
‘Who are you?’ he asked.
She didn’t respond.
He leaned forward, his grip tightening on the edge of the table and his knuckles turning white. ‘Why were you in the World of the Woods?’
She slipped the knife into her hand and held the weapon out before her. ‘I don’t have to tell you anything.’
He laughed and his body relaxed like he didn’t expect her to follow through on the threat her knife offered. ‘You’re after another fight so soon?’
Sloane growled through her teeth, her eyes narrowing on him. ‘I will do what it takes to return to my crew. I am no one’s prisoner.’
Rhyn casually moved to lean against the wall, completely ignoring her threatening tone. ‘You will answer my questions,’ he said, with certainty. ‘And you will learn your place here.’
His arrogant attitude pissed her off, and she could feel an unbridled hatred for the man curdling inside. Without another thought she flung the knife towards him. The blade whipped swiftly through the air and thudded loudly as it embedded in the wooden beam directly next to his face.
The smirk quickly dropped from his lips. ‘You missed,’ he said dryly, though they both knew she had never intended to hit him.
In a movement so swift, Sloane’s eyes struggled to track it, Rhyn sprang forwards. He leapt over the table and was towering over her before she had a chance to move.
He grabbed her by the neck of the space jumpsuit she still wore and shoved her up against the wall. Her head cracked against the stone, and her body slouched as she let out a grunt in pain. He lowered his face to hers, his breath warm against her cheek. ‘You will answer my questions one way or another. You will never be leaving here, and I can make your life very unpleasant. The choice is up to you.’
Sloane’s eyes narrowed and she spat at him, hitting him square on the cheek. He dropped her heavily, and she fell unevenly to the floor. Ignoring the pain in her head, she straightened quickly to stare him down. Not tearing his eyes from hers, he slowly raised a hand to wipe the spit away. Pulling his hand back to look at it, his knowing smirk returned.
When his gaze returned to her, his ice blue eyes were charged and his regard was calculating. ‘I will enjoy breaking you,’ he said. ‘It won’t take long, human.’
He left without another word, and as the pelt flapped shut Sloane felt her stomach muscles tighten. She was his prisoner, whether he’d uttered the word aloud or not. The thought seemed to wrap its way around her—squeezing her, suffocating her. She moved around the table to pull the knife from the wall before placing it carefully back where she’d found it.
As she looked down at her hands she found them shaking. She clenched them into tight fists
and took a steadying breath. Rhyn may think he had her trapped, but she would get out of there. She had to.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Sloane had never been one to allow her emotions to get the better of her, but right now she was struggling with the array of feelings simmering just beneath her cool exterior. Her mind was always cold and calculating, but her calm composure was seriously close to cracking. Ever since she stole Perry’s suit on the Explorer, her life had become one disaster after another. Being trapped on an alien planet, in an alien world, was about enough to make her snap.
She knew that when she made it back to the drop pod, she was unlikely to get a warm welcome. And if she got back to the Explorer, the reception she’d receive would be even colder. She didn’t particularly care for the men back on Aeris or the Explorer. She would almost prefer to play the role of prisoner to this alien man than to face their condescending looks again. But her sister was back there, and her brother was still missing. Rowe needed her and Sloane couldn’t bear the idea of leaving her sister with the Captain.
When she left the ship, Sloane figured she’d be a few days on the green planet—at most. She had planned to find Ash and be back aboard the Explorer with Rowe again before the week was out.
A flicker of unease rushed through her chest as she considered Rowe alone on the ship. She was so vulnerable there and their father couldn’t be trusted to watch out for her. He was so absorbed by their mission that she doubted he’d even check in on Rowe.
She wanted to curse Rhyn for bringing her there, and she hated that he was holding her hostage. Why go to the lengths of bringing her to his people in the first place? If he wanted information, why didn’t he just torture her for answers on Aeris and then kill her if he saw her as a threat? After fighting him though, she doubted there was any human alive who Rhyn would view as a threat.
When Orelle walked back into the room she appeared calmer than when she left. Sloane easily saw through her façade though. Orelle was annoyed about something and putting on a front.
‘You must excuse my son,’ she said.
Any troubled thoughts were chased from Sloane’s mind by those words. ‘He’s your son?’ How is that even possible? She barely looked older than him.
‘Yes, Rhyn is my youngest son.’
Sloane shook her head. ‘That’s not possible.’
‘I am older than I look,’ Orelle responded. Sloane could tell the expression on her face was one of obvious disbelief, but she didn’t care. Even if Orelle had somehow managed to give birth to Rhyn, she found it difficult to believe they were related. She’d only exchanged a few words with the two of them but could already tell they were nothing alike.
‘And Rhyn means well. Everything he does is for our people. I’m sure he wouldn’t have brought you here if it wasn’t for a good reason.’
‘If Rhyn is your son, surely you can persuade him to let me go?’
Orelle looked into the fire. ‘While his father is away there is nothing I can do. Vas is the ruler of our land, and Rhyn is in charge in his stead. I cannot undermine his decisions, as it would show weakness on his part.’
Sloane frowned. ‘Rhyn is in charge?’
‘One day he will be. For now, it is only temporary.’
Sloane’s frown deepened. Rhyn being in charge of this place wasn’t good news for her, even if it was only temporary.
‘I can assure you,’ Orelle said. ‘Rhyn would not have made his decision to keep you here lightly. You must respect it if you want your life here to be pleasant.’
Sloane didn’t want her life there to be anything other than short-lived. These people were crazy, and Orelle obviously needed a lesson or two in standing up to the men in her life. If she was going to get out of there though, she needed a plan, and she wasn’t going to come up with one from within the confines of the hut.
‘Is there any way I can see the village?’ Sloane asked. ‘If I’m going to be here for a while, it’d be nice to get my bearings.’
Orelle stared into the fire as she considered Sloane’s request. ‘I don’t think Rhyn will allow that, but I’ll see what I can do,’ she said.
Sloane spent the rest of the afternoon pacing the hut and watching the glacies from behind the curtain across the front doorway. She was searching for their weaknesses, but the creatures never slept. They seemed to have a sixth sense and could tell whenever she was watching. Their black eyes would lock onto hers, almost daring her to try and run. There was no way she was just walking out of there unless she had a weapon—and the kitchen knife didn’t seem big enough.
She wanted to get a better look at the valley she was in. However, every time she pulled the flap back more than an inch the glacies would sound out an alarm. She was quickly growing to hate those creatures, and they were right below Rhyn’s name on her list of monsters she wanted to destroy.
Sloane waited until dark to try and leave the hut again. She went to bed early and lay there for hours while Orelle continued to move around the living area. It felt like the woman would never go to bed herself. When she finally retired to her room, Sloane had to then wait for the tell-tale signs that Orelle had fallen asleep. She was impatient as she lay there listening. Her feet itched to escape, and her fingers tapped at her sides to pass the time. She waited for twenty minutes before she heard the sound of Orelle’s heavy, constant breaths and knew it was time to go.
She slipped out from under the covers and crept across the room. She was silent as she pulled the pelt back and moved into the living room. The fire had died down and there were merely glowing embers to light the dark room. Without the fire the room had quickly become cold, and Sloane knew it would be colder still outside. She wished she had more clothing she could put on to keep her warm, but she didn’t want to risk creeping into Orelle’s room to find some. She’d have to hazard the outside world in her space jumpsuit.
Pulling back the pelt across the entranceway, she looked out into the night. The white snow seemed to glow blue in the darkness and there were so many stars shining against the ink black sky. There were two white mounds in the snow bank by the pathway—the glacies. They were completely still, but that didn’t necessarily mean they were sleeping.
Sloane took a silent step over the threshold. The moment her shoes lightly crunched on the icy ground outside, she heard the flapping of wings. This was closely followed by a high-pitched squawk of alarm and the metal snapping of beaks.
She cursed and bolted forwards, focusing entirely on the pathway that led from the hut. The glacies appeared in front of her like white wraiths materialising in the night. They moved so fast and worked in perfect unison as they kept her blocked from escape.
Her only weapon was the kitchen knife she’d grabbed from inside, which felt pathetically inadequate in her hand. It would hardly be effective against the two creatures that advanced on her. The pathway was so close to her, so easily within reach. If she could just get to it, she may be able to outrun the glacies. That was her best chance of escaping them.
She attempted to dodge past the beasts, only to have one of them nip her arm with its metal beak. It was only a small peck, but it felt like a sharp knife cutting through her skin. The sight of blood was enough to bring Sloane to her senses, and she reluctantly took a step backwards. She gripped her knife tighter as she eyed the creatures, searching for any sign of weakness. She didn’t have time to decide the best course of action though, as the beasts started snapping at her, driving her back towards the hut.
One of them snaked its neck out and clamped its beak onto the knife in her hand. In one swift movement, it yanked the knife from her grasp. It started to chew on the blade, and in only two chomps of its beak it had completely destroyed her only weapon. The glacie spat the mangled piece of metal out at Sloane’s feet, and she finally raised her hands in surrender.
‘Fine, you win,’ she grumbled darkly at them. She was going to have to come up with a better plan to get past the beasts. As she went to turn and go back inside, the g
lacie who had bitten her gave her a look in warning; next time she wouldn’t be so lucky.
Orelle stood by the fireplace as Sloane re-entered the house. Even in the dim light, Sloane could see her face was filled with disappointment.
‘You’re hurt,’ Orelle said, nodding at the blood-tinged cut in her sleeve. She made to step towards her. ‘Let me get something to fix that.’
Sloane glanced down at the cut and placed one hand over it.
‘You don’t need to do that. It will be fine. It’s just a small cut,’ she replied.
Orelle nodded. She moved to return to her room, but paused and looked at Sloane with genuine concern in her eyes. ‘Please don’t try to run away,’ she said. ‘The nights are freezing here and storms can roll in without any warning. It’s dangerous out there. I won’t forgive myself if something bad happened to you.’ Without another word, Orelle returned to her room.
Sloane stared after the woman, trying to understand her warning. Was it some ruse to make her stay or was she genuinely concerned for Sloane’s safety. Either way, Sloane wouldn’t make any promises.
Returning to bed, Sloane could still hear the ringing clang of metal as the glacies snapped their beaks open and shut at her. They probably loved the taste of human flesh—bloodthirsty things.
She didn’t want to sleep, because it would leave her vulnerable. Her eyes kept shutting of their own accord though. She tried to push through the drowsy haze that had descended on her, but she was still suffering from the injuries she acquired fighting Rhyn and exhaustion consumed her. She slowly drifted off with thoughts of swan-like beasts chasing her in her dreams.
When she woke in the morning, Sloane could sense a presence in the room. Her eyes jerked awake, and she sat up quickly to find Rhyn smirking at her from the doorway. He wore tight fighting leathers, similar to what she’d seen him in the previous two days. The pants fit him snugly, and she could easily see his muscles beneath his shirt. Standing there, he seemed to take up the entire doorway, and the room felt smaller with him in it. She scowled at him and wished she could scowl at herself for noticing him in such a way.
In Ice We Burn (The Liftsal Guardians Book 1) Page 7
