Dark Souls

by Quinn Blackbird

  Damnit.

  Just now, I realise—I should have made Nicole think I was doing her a favour by letting her collect the laundry. That would have been nice to have her in my pocket for a while. Might have come in handy.

  Oh well.

  Too late now.

  And just as I think it, I hear footsteps pounding on the wet sand. The thumps draw in my gaze and I look up as Nicole comes stomping towards me.

  The baskets she carries are empty—I notice that first.

  Then I notice her, and my blood runs cold.

  Red smears her cheek, and the corner of her mouth is all crimson and swollen. Droplets of blood bead on her hands, her knuckles are scraped raw, and—as she stops at my side and throws the baskets at my feet—I see the unfiltered fear in her watery eyes.

  Caspan has beaten her bloody.

  9

  Her top wears a spreading patch of crimson. Thread by thread, blood climbs its way over her t-shirt. But the wound must look worse than it is, because she’s standing upright just fine, and she looks more shaken than in pain.

  “What happened?” I whisper, taking in the swell that’s growing beneath her left eye. The skin there is tinged blue and purple. “What did he do to you?”

  I might not like her very much, but hell—I’m still human, and the sight of her is enough to stop anyone’s heart for a beat.

  “He kicked me out.” That’s all she says before she gingerly sets herself down on the ground. She brings her knees up to her chest and, for the first time, I watch pain grimace her face.

  “And what?” I sit beside her, my wide eyes glued to the side of her bloody face. “Beat you?”

  In answer, she stares into the flames. Silent tears roll down her cheeks. One tear catches on the blood wetting her cheek, and makes a pale streak.

  I reach for her.

  She tenses instantly, but she doesn’t fight me as I gently lift her t-shirt to reveal the blood on her torso. I was right. The blood looks worse than the actual injury. But still, tiny little holes pierce her skin, as if nails have torn at her flesh.

  My face twists into a grimace and I let her t-shirt fall back into place. “Hassan has some black powder,” I tell her. “I gave it to him. It should be enough to fix you right up.”

  No matter how I feel about her, there’s nothing worse than seeing a woman in this state. I want to take the pain away.

  Nicole looks up at me. Tears wet her lashes, weighing them down, and her mouth sets into a wobbly line. She fights back sobs.

  “I asked him for help,” she confesses. Shame clings to her hushed voice. “I asked him to spare Georgi.”

  “So he attacked you?” Disbelief clutches me, and I shake my head. Dirty strands of blond hair whip the side of my face. “There must be more.”

  There must be.

  The dark fae are just that—dark. Sure, they are cruel and brutal and menacing. But for Caspan to just attack her after she asked for his help? I don’t know why, but it doesn't make sense to me. Their cruelties stem from our disobedience or their need for entertainment.

  Maybe I fooled myself into thinking more of them than what they truly are. Maybe I thought more of Caspan than what I should have.

  “There is more.” She buries her face in her bloody hands.

  Her shoulders shiver with choked sobs.

  Into her hand, she says, “He told me to get out. But I begged him to help Georgi. He refused. He got angry. More and more, but I ... I offered him my body in return for sparing Georgi. The General ... He went crazy. And when I said ...”

  She trails off, her voice lost on the seaside breeze. Chills rattle her and I can’t tell if it’s from the cold or the trauma.

  Gingerly, I rub her back in soothing circles. It doesn't feel natural to me. Feels off, wrong. But it’s what my grandmother used to do to me when I’d get upset, and it helped.

  “I said that you do it.” She drops her hands and looks up at me with a tear-streaked face. “You give your body to him for help. And I can do the same. That’s when he lost it.”

  “I don’t do that.” My voice is flat. “I did tell you.”

  She shrugs me off. “Whatever it is you do or don’t do, it gets you help to save the ones you care about. Why can’t I have the same? I’ve been here longer, I’ve kept my head down and done everything right. And you just come along and get whatever you like without doing anything—”

  “Get what I like?” I snap at her. “I like to be whipped? To have knives and stones thrown at me, forced to dance for them? I like to be hunted by Caspan, and to risk my life to save Adrianna? I don't like any of it, no more than you do.”

  Nicole looks at me with a burning fury in her wet eyes. Her face hardens to stone and she slowly gets up from the ground.

  I mirror her.

  “I don’t care what he says,” she spits at me. “You fuck. We all know it. We all know you’re a fae-loving whore. Deny it all you want, I can smell his stink on you. I just hope that one day, he’s through with you and you’re made to suffer like the rest of us.”

  She storms off before I can fight my corner, and I watch her go. She heads up to the shadows, where the fae guards are.

  For a while, I just stand there, watching the darkness lick at the edge of our camp. But I can’t stand here forever. With Nicole gone, I need to carry our workload on my own shoulders.

  With a dreaded sigh, I snatch the baskets up from the sand and brush them clean. Then I head up to the last place I want to go—

  Caspan’s tent.

  *

  The tent flap barely falls into place behind me before I’m thrown off my feet by a dark, fast-moving blur.

  I land on my front, hard.

  A hand holds me down by the nape of my neck. I have just a moment to buck before the rest of Caspan follows, and his knee presses into the small of my back.

  Sharp jolts of agony shoot up my spine at the pressure.

  I’m pinned to the ground. Sand leaks into my mouth as my face twists with pain.

  “Gerrofff,” I gargle against the sandy mound my face is pressed into. “Gerroff, gerroff, gerroff!”

  The pain of his knee on my back is near-blinding. I see stars amongst the sand. Each time I blink them away, grains of sand cling to my lashes and scratch my eyeballs.

  His grip on my neck tightens. Fingernails dig deep into my skin as he slowly lowers himself closer to me, perched on me at a curve, and his hot mouth brushes against the exposed shell of my ear.

  “What did you do, kuri?” His words are a hiss of pure, unfiltered venom. Shivers clutch my spine as fear spears me.

  “What?” My squeaky voice is muffled by lumps of damp sand. I spit out as much as I can with my face pressed so deeply into the ground. “I don’t know what you’re talking about! Let me go!”

  I try bucking again, but he’s so heavy on top of me that it’s utterly useless. The sharp sting of his knee on my back is enough to wet my eyes. Flashes of Nicole’s beaten body invade my mind.

  I start to tremble beneath him.

  I almost cry, “I didn’t do anything.”

  His breath his hot against my ear. “It is your fault, kuri.”

  “I didn’t do anything,” I echo with my pathetic, whimpered-voice. But I know what I did—

  I made him look weak. Accessible. One to be manipulated by an offering of flesh.

  Of course, I didn’t really do that. Nicole just thought I was trading sex for help with Caspan. But still, the fact that she believed that was happening was enough for her to offer herself to him, and in turn, make him furious at me.

  Because of me, Nicole thought she could reason with the General of a fucking dark fae army. She thought she could use him to find a way to save her lover.

  “It’s not my fault,” I grunt. “I told her we weren’t doing anything with each other—I told her, and she didn’t listen.”

  “Is that what they think?” he seethes into my ear. The deep hush of his voice prickles my spine with ice-co
ld fear. “That I would have you?”

  It shouldn’t, but his disgusted tone twists a knife in my gut.

  “I don’t know what they think, and I don’t care. I’m just trying to get by, ok?” Again, I give a useless buck. He doesn’t budge. It’s like a marble statue pressing down on me. “I swore you didn’t see me that way. She believes what she wants to believe for the sake of her friend. It’s got nothing to do with me.”

  There’s a pause. Then he yanks me up by the back of my neck until I’m staggering to my feet in front of him.

  I bend forward, hands on knees, and cough up the clumps of sand that made their way into my mouth. He stands behind me, all dark and dangerous-like, as I spew up as much sand as I can. I doubt I’ll ever be rid of the salty granules.

  Once my coughs start to slow, I’m not given a moment to right myself. His hand shoots to the back of my head, and he clutches a fistful of my hair.

  I cry out as he yanks me back against him.

  The hardness of his muscles presses against my spine. I feel them ripple like pebbles down a sloped shore as he inhales a deep, long breath, as if to calm himself.

  Adrenaline pumps through me like ice-cold air into a tyre. I can’t move. I’m frozen in place.

  In survival mode, I go stiff against him. He twists my head back enough so that I can look up at his face that’s eaten by shadows. He snarls down at me, all promises of blood and pain.

  “Her friend,” he hisses down at me, his curling lips brushing against my forehead, “will suffer tremendously for this. I will have him stripped of his skin, down to his weak bones.”

  I can’t fight the tremor that ribbons through me. “So do it,” I say, my voice as rattled as my body. “He’s nothing to me. Neither is she.”

  His black eyes shimmer like pools of spilt ink, growing darker by the second. In his gaze, cruelty dwells. His face is pulled tight like a stone mask, and his diadem winks down at me with brutal intentions.

  “I got what I wanted,” I say, fear hushing my voice to a shaky whisper. “I made a bargain with you, and I saved my friend. I don’t give a shit about anyone else—”

  I’m cut off with a sudden scream that tears through me.

  Caspan throws me across the tent with such force that I’m practically flying. I land on the air mattress with a high bounce only once before he’s on me.

  Straddling me, he flips me onto my back and pins my wrists to the furs. I glower up at him, my breaths shivering through me.

  “I should end you now, kuri. You do not realise your place.”

  “So kill me,” I spit, but panic is rushing through my lungs. “Do what the fuck you want, Caspan. Punish me for someone else doing wrong. Whatever.” I shake my head, my face twisting under the firelight. “I’m so fucking over it. All of it. If you want to make it end for me, then do it—but do it quickly.”

  A wince catches in my throat. He digs his sharp nails into my wrist, deep enough to break the skin and draw blood.

  “You are trouble,” he hisses darkly.

  The tears in my eyes start to shed. No longer trapped by my fight against them.

  My lashes catch tears as I stare up at him, the fight fleeing me. “See?” My voice cracks. “You want to kill me, don't you? You want to end my life and save you the bother of having me around. But it’s more than that, isn't it?”

  His face twists into something ferocious. “Silent, kuri. You do not know what you speak of.”

  “Something is stopping you,” I goad him, almost wanting him to tear out my throat. That way, it’s the end for me, it’ll be only peace beyond now.

  No more slave work, no more treks across the country, and I won’t have to face what waits at the end of the army’s journey.

  “Something is stopping you from killing me,” I add. “Can’t just be a lousy tattoo. So what is it?”

  Caspan brings his face closer to mine. Our noses touch.

  His skin is cold against mine, unlike the heat coming from his warm mouth. He speaks against my lips, “You know nothing, you simple girl. What you speak of is far beyond your comprehension.”

  His full lips graze over mine. His mouth passes my cheek, his breath leaving a hot and sticky reminder of his touch, and he settles at the line of my jaw.

  He goes still. His mouth tickles my jawline, but he doesn't move. Like he’s entranced, or something. Lost in his mind, deep where a battle rages on, and he has to fight himself.

  I take my chance. I slide my hand out of his grip and he lets me. But I don’t fight him. I reach down to his belt and slowly slip out a small knife from the sheath.

  Gently, I slip the knife into the elastic band of my leggings. It holds well enough.

  “That’s what you want?” I whisper, pinned down by the heavy weight of his body. Without his shirt on, I can feel his muscles tense against me. “You want to kiss my neck? You want me on your bed?” My face twists into something ugly as I hiss, “In your arms?”

  His warning is a growl against my skin, “Be silent.”

  I buck against him. He’s unmovable and a dangerous growl rumbles through him in answer.

  “It’s not my fault she tried to save her friend,” I spit. “I didn't ask you to save me the times that you did. I never asked you to heal me, or be open to bargains, or for your attention—”

  His teeth latch onto the side of my exposed neck, and he bites, hard.

  A cry catches in my throat. My back arches as if to pull away from the pain, and tears stream out from the corners of my eyes.

  Warm blood rolls down my cold skin.

  He slips his teeth out from my flesh. “Say another word, and I will strip you to the bone, kuri.”

  I clamp my mouth shut, my eyes squeezed closed against the tears that leak. I go limp beneath him to emphasise my point. But I can’t stop the sobs from crawling up my throat, though I do fight them.

  I’m just not strong enough for this. I can’t fight this battle every day, not with a dark fae like him. Not with any.

  And now, with his bloody lips grazing my flesh wound, I realise with a cold dread that bolts to my gut—there’s no getting out of this. His interest runs much deeper than I feared to think.

  He wants me.

  And he hates me for it.

  Slowly, he peels himself away from me.

  His hands sink into the air mattress, and his bare chest lifts only a breath away from my body. Crouched over me, he watches me sob beneath him. My body rattles with the cries I can’t fight off anymore.

  Before I can blink away the wetness from my eyes, he’s pushing off of me, and standing at the edge of the mattress, tall and proud. His face sets into stone, completely impassive. Then, my blood runs colder than icicles as he strips down to the nude.

  My breath catches as he scoops up his clothes and armour from the ground and tosses them at me. The chain-link armour vest lobs me off the forehead, and I groan a sound of choked pain.

  “Wash my clothes like the slave you are,” he tells me, stonily.

  I bundle up the clothes in my arms before I push up from the bed. I stalk over to the baskets, lying on their sides on the floor. Dropped them when this fucker attacked me.

  I stuff the pile into a basket, then pull them up against me.

  With a final, scathing look at him, I say, “And how you love to be my master.”

  He watches me with dark, swirling eyes for a moment. He turns his back on me.

  I storm out of the tent. But I make it only a few steps before a pale, gleaming chest moves in front of me.

  I look up at Cheekbones. He smiles down at me toothily.

  “Soon, pretty kuri,” he whispers with a wicked smile.

  10

  Nicole is back at the fire pit when I return, baskets piled-high with clothes. I managed to cover all the tents, despite being shaken.

  Not only do I have to deal with the volatile moods of Caspan, I need to shake Cheekbones from me, and fast.

  That dude doesn't just want to kill me. He
wants to let the world hear my screams.

  Nicole is stirring the washing powder through the simmering water when I dump the baskets on the sand. She takes one look at me—and I know she sees the blood on my wrists and the side of my neck, the wet streaks on my blotchy cheeks—then she snubs me for the baskets.

  I watch in disbelief as she dumps loads of clothes into the hot water pot.

  So much for solidarity among women, right? I was there to comfort her after Caspan beat her. And he throws me around like a rag doll, but she just ignores it?

  ‘Bitch’ doesn’t even begin to describe her.

  “Good to see he’s turning on you,” she says, stirring the clothes around and around the pot. “Shame he didn't finish the job.”

  I’m livid. Seeing red.

  It’s a whole lot of pent-up shit that’s getting to me, but Nicole is the last fucking straw.

  “Did he fuck you before or after he beat you?” She sneers at me, and it’s ugly.

  The knife in my waistband is meant for me. I need to cut. I need to feel the nothingness that comes with dragging that blade down my scarred arms. But right now, I have the urge to drive the knife into her bloody throat.

  I have another idea.

  “Actually...” I start, and pull the knife out from my waistband.

  Her gaze catches on the silvery wink of the blade instantly. Doubt swarms in her eyes as she watches me fiddle with the knife.

  “I was going to give you this,” I tell her. “You know, to cut your friend free. It’s strong enough to leverage the bolt out of the cart. Or you could give him a quick end. Your choice. But since you’re going to be a wench about it—”

  “I’ll take it.” Her hand shoots out and hope lights up her face.

  I look at her darkly.

  All that rage inside me swirls together with bitterness and bloodlust. Maybe I don’t need to spill my blood to feel satisfied. Maybe I need to see hers be spilled instead.

  I hand her the knife. It’s no longer than the length of my middle finger to the heel of my palm, but it’s sharp and deadly enough to do some damage. Only, I’m not going to use it on her. I have other plans for Nicole.