Amelia gulped.
If the earl hadn’t been aware of the goings-on, now he’d certainly learn about them.
Then Aroan spoke, “Thank you, Captain Correlis. Since you’re done with your task, you’re all dismissed for tonight. Those of you who have guard duty are, of course, to return to their assigned posts.”
Amelia’s head whipped around, but Roan wasn’t looking at her. His eyes were still fixed upon the strapping male who stood rooted to the spot.
Evidently, this wasn’t at all how he’d imagined the reporting would go.
“I commend you for your quick work,” Aroan went on, keeping a stiff upper lip. “Please let the other guards know. Now, you may go,” he finished, graciously inclining his head in the baffled guard’s direction.
“Yes, my lord,” the male finally managed to say, turning about to leave before he remembered himself and turned back about, face beet-red, saluting both nobles. Then he escaped the room.
“What was that all about?” Lord Byron queried, not failing to notice that something was amiss.
“Nothing of importance, Father,” Aroan replied coolly. “Just a training exercise.” Then he turned to her. “I was just about to ring for you.” He paused, and as he stared at her, the seconds seemed to stretch out indefinitely.
Amelia felt perspiration running down her back, but she managed to remain calm and collected as she patiently waited for the male to go on.
“Well?” Aroan finally prompted, lifting a brow.
The ball was in Amelia’s court.
“I finished picking blueberries in the fruit garden, my lord,” she ventured, trying to swallow the lump in her throat. “Mister Branley said to come and find you.”
Roan’s eyes bored into her, and for a long, long moment, he didn’t answer.
“Go on, then, fetch my evening meal, along with some nourishment for Lord Byron. We’ll be dining in the seating area in my suite,” he instructed tersely. “Find Branley first, though, and send him up. I have need of him.”
“Yes, my lord,” Amelia immediately acquiesced, bowing her way out of the room, more than happy to leave the Fae’s presence.
I’ve done it, Amelia thought, allowing herself a small grin of triumph as relief filled her. She wasn’t only back where she was supposed to be, doing her master’s bidding as usual, but she’d also emerged unscathed from an unexpected meeting with Lord Byron and a potentially lethal situation. Additionally, she’d learned in advance that five days hence, Aroan was to go to the capital city to something important, and he had to bring her along.
Aroan knew, though. His frozen gaze, pale blue filled with shards of ice, had said it all.
“We’ll talk about this later.”
Amelia had practically heard the words he’d desisted from uttering.
She hadn’t explained it all away yet, but at least, Vik had a better chance to get away now. There was nothing else she could do for him at the moment. She could only hope he’d be at least as lucky as Amelia herself hat turned out to be.
As she went about her chores that evening, a thought wouldn’t leave Amelia alone, though.
Roan knew.
The male had known that she’d sneaked out yet again, and he’d decided to keep it from his father.
Amelia heaved a sigh. No matter his reasoning and what punishment he might decide to visit upon her later, she’d stay grateful for that.
She’d take any chastisement from Roan over whatever his father cooked up to dissuade Amelia from flaunting the rules once and for all.
Chapter Nineteen
Roan
The next morning, Roan emerged from his room feeling worn and tired.
Of course, he’d been aware of the prospect of his joining the Fae Council for a long while, but that’s all it’d seemed to be – a prospect. Something that would take place in the distant future, if ever. So he’d set his worries aside, concentrating on his day-to-day tasks and the management of the estate.
Now, though, that his sire had announced Roan was expected to go to Cerridwen to secretly celebrate the anniversary of the start of the Council’s reign while other Fae mourned the complete annihilation of the Ravenells, at least in this realm, and to actually take his place among the councilors, it was all becoming very real very quickly. The coming event no longer loomed on the horizon – it seemed to hang over his head like a dark could of doom. Now, the threat was very much imminent, and Roan’s life was about to change irrevocably.
To think that days ago, his biggest worry was whether he’d made a mistake by opening up to Amelia and telling her about some of his fondest childhood memories …
Not that he wasn’t concerned about that anymore. He was, greatly indeed. Roan had clearly crossed a line. He couldn’t change the past, though, so it was time to move on and focus on this current problem – to determine whether he could get out of playing his intended role, to be exact. Roan still had to decide how to behave towards Amelia going forward, however, and he also shouldn’t forget about her latest escapade.
Truth be told, he admired her for her daring. For the courage it took to flaunt the rules, and her utter disregard of others’ endeavors to corral her. The girl was more than bright enough to understand how dire consequences her actions could have, and still, whenever she felt like she needed a little freedom – or simply fancied a fast-paced run in the woods, for all he knew – she went for it.
In spite of being a slave, in spite of being literally shackled to her owner, his Melia did whatever she damn well liked.
She always found a way.
This time, though, others have noticed her absence. His human hadn’t been careful enough, and they’d gotten too damn close to his father finding out. Were that to happen, Roan wouldn’t have a choice but to show Amelia her place.
He’d have to hurt her.
That was something he never wanted to do. The mere idea left a bad taste in his mouth. Not that he would tell the girl this, but she seemed to understand it well enough already. In fact, she was too sure of herself, confident that Roan wouldn’t retaliate, and that could get her into serious trouble once they arrived in Cerridwen. If she did something foolish there, Roan would have to gravely harm her, maybe even gravely enough to break her.
So, since he didn’t want it to come to that, it was time to show his wayward human how slaves normally fared in the Upper Kingdom, Roan thought as he made his way to the breakfast nook to take his morning meal – and face Amelia. Once there, he started in on his sausages, cutting them into appropriate-sized pieces, and told the girl standing by the wall with her hands clasped in front of her body to get ready. She was accompanying him on his bi-weekly inspection of one of the family’s plantations.
Roan just hoped the short visit would be enough to discourage her from future misbehavior.
~ *** ~
They started out soon thereafter, with Amelia riding Camille again, while Roan was seated on his very own Midnight.
The weather seemed to be in accord with Roan’s plans, and after the downpour in the early hours of the day, the Fae was pleasantly surprised by the appearance of a brilliant sun on the cloud-dotted azure sky. The slick sheets of rain had left their mark on the ground, though, turning every dirt pathway treacherous, so even though Roan knew how well his human could sit a horse, he decided to take the paved main road that connected the mansion to the rest of Wentbur and the country.
Wearing the knee-high boots he’d furnished her with and a linen riding habit that brought out the color of her amazing eyes, Amelia trotted on ahead, gazing at the lush scenery and letting her mount set the pace. Strangely enough, her taking the lead yet again didn’t really bother Roan, though for appearances’ sake, he’d made sure they left the mansion with him leading and her docilely following behind, and he planned to arrive in a similar manner at their destination. There was ample time to indulge Amelia’s natural inclination to lead awhile yet, though, so Roan contented himself with looking his fill of his companion
as he let his mind wander further, only occasionally steering the girl in the right direction.
As they moved on, memories of their last outing awakened, and the male barely caught himself before he called out, “I'll race you to the hills.”
Just to bring her face alive anew.
Roan imagined what it would be like to shoot off to the west at those words, positive that his Melia would be in hot pursuit. They’d gallop across the plain then up the slope, feeling their souls soar as they gathered speed. He envisioned grinning triumphantly as he won, then veering his horse off the road and around, his mount’s gait slowing with every step as mud squelched under his hooves, and looking back at the opponent he’d bested this time around and who was already demanding a rematch.
As soon as Roan returned to reality, the smile that had broken out over his face dimmed. It was clear as day he wanted to seek out Amelia’s company for no good reason at all. Circumstances were what they were, though. The girl who captivated him was a human, and a slave.
His slave, to be exact.
She was a mesmerizing creature, his Melia, but her wild spirit, catching beauty and riveting personality didn’t, couldn't matter. This level of fascination with a human was not only completely out of character for Roan, but also unhealthy and laughable, quite honestly, and anything more substantial between them was inconceivable.
Humans and Fae didn’t mix, or if they did, it only ended in death and devastation. And those of his girl’s kind who lived in the Kingdoms were designated to serve his race, not be treated as equals. True, Amelia was extraordinary for a human, but she was lower-rung. A being with inferior skills and a much shorter life span than his. To allow himself to develop too much … affection for her, to get too attached, would only cause him heartache.
Amelia was his, and as such, it was his responsibility to ensure her physical well-being, but that was where his commitment had to stop, Roan reminded himself as they rode on, with only the drum of the horses’ hooves and the whooshing of the wind in the trees disturbing the silence. Amelia was his possession, and he had to start treating her as such.
Whatever this was between them, it had to stop.
Right now.
~ *** ~
Amelia
This wasn’t how Amelia had expected the day to go, not after the stunt she’d pulled last night.
Aroan had made no mention of it at breakfast, though, nor before she’d finally been allowed to escape to her room in the wee hours. Had staying up late to play statue while Aroan caught up on work in his study been her punishment, then? If so, she’d gotten very lucky, but it was strange nonetheless that the Fae hadn’t even brought up the incident.
As of yet, Amelia reminded herself, staring at the multitude of trees, ferns and shrubs that bordered on the wide street paved with stones in a wild jumble, heart beating faster whenever she caught a fleeting glance of a mystical creature. Aroan hadn’t raised the topic yet.
It would come, though.
Amelia wasn’t about to believe she’d really have gotten off this easily.
However, she couldn’t change what lay ahead, so she might as well enjoy this excursion in the meantime, Amelia told herself, even if she had no idea where they were going. The landscape around her was beautiful, and she hadn’t been able to take in too much of it when she’d been brought here in a prisoner wagon. So now, she’d make up for it.
Taking a deep breath, Amelia let go of her worries for the time being, and turned her attention outwards. Peace and quiet surrounded them, and it was only briefly disturbed by Aroan’s short, to-the-point instructions as to which path to take whenever they came upon a crossroads.
They took another turn, and as they crested a steep hill, the terrain opened up before them, and a large valley came into view. Section after section, the vegetation changed down there. Ordered rows of trees alternated with wide expanses of rolling fields, and both tropical plants and crops that normally only grew in temperate climates dotted the land.
Plantations, Amelia realized at once, and not just any plantations, either.
These fields and groves were cultivated with by mystical means, and the had to belong to Roan’s family.
They rode by a dense copse of orange trees. The plants were bursting with bright, perfectly formed fruits as big as her hand and within easy reach, tempting Amelia to extent her hand and pluck one. To bite into the succulent goodness and feel the sweet taste explode on her tongue. She had to forcibly remind herself that those oranges weren’t hers to take.
Nothing was, really.
The rich citrus grove gave way to dewberry brambles that were in full bloom, but also heavy with purple-black fruits. As those vanished in the distance, too, being replaced by rice plants, then pond apple trees, Roan came up next to her so they were riding side by side, but with his stallion’s nose a bit further ahead than placid Camille’s.
Amelia tried to keep her focus on the scenery, but the Fae’s nearness distracted her. She hardly noticed as they meandered by the orderly rows of conifers that had obviously been planted by people, instead of growing on their own. When Aroan drew his horse’s rein, setting an even more sedate pace, her brain kicked back in, and she realized they must be nearing their destination. By then, they were surrounded by a wide expanse of lush fields. Acres and acres of golden wheat rippled in the wind, about ready for the harvest.
More like already being harvested, Amelia mentally corrected herself as she looked ahead and detected the men and women busily at work. Driving their plows back and forth, they cut and bundled grain, then removed the hefty bundles by hand. Which was curious considering that there were also riders ahead, and it would’ve been much easier to borrow the horses’ strength for the heavy lifting …
Or not, Amelia realized, recalling where she was yet again, and a cold shiver run down her spine. It was little wonder after all. The Fae wouldn’t need the help of any animals for this kind of work. They were more than powerful enough to do it on their own. Those farmhands weren’t Fae, though. The people on horseback were, down to the last one, but the men and women moving about on foot were humans.
Prisoners.
Slaves who were actually treated as such.
Now that she was paying close attention, it was impossible to overlook the filthy rags the laborers wore, or to miss the signs of mistreatment and starvation. They were emaciated, withered away next to nothing, and when Amelia managed to look into some lowered faces that weren’t hidden behind a curtain of dull, tangled hair, all she saw was hollow cheeks and gray-tinted skin stretched tight over visages that bore a bland expression.
Haggard bodies and bent backs. Protruding ribs, hungry mouths and scarily-thin limbs.
Lifeless eyes.
And marks. Gods above, there were so much marks upon those battered bodies.
Men and women, young and old – they were all covered in scars and bruises and welts. Lash marks that’d been clearly caused by the overseers riding back and forth behind the slaves, keeping an eye out for misbehavior or any people who went about their arduous tasks less than diligently, and likely delivering strikes even if no one gave them cause.
These people would never cause trouble. They didn’t have it in them any longer. They worked themselves to the bone, bending and heaving without complaint, doing as they were told, many if not all most possibly even lacking the ability to form a bad thought.
They were broken, and the Fae knew it. The overseers weren’t even afraid to put weapons into their charges’ hands.
This – this was what the mighty Fae reduced her people to. What humans had to endure day in and day out. There was always a need for more farmhands and miners and houseboys and kitchen help. For more laborers, to make the wealthy, affluent Fae even richer, so they bought and kidnapped their human neighbors, stripping them of their freedom and rights. Of their very personhood.
And here she was, all dressed up and without a mark on her, riding a fine horse.
Shame fill
ed Amelia, and it was all she could do to blink away the tears before they could fall.
Even as she was thinking, a whip cracked, making her start, singing through the air before it met human flesh. A piteous cry rung out, but it was quickly muffled as the victim stuffed her hand into her mouth so as not to offend her tormenter with the sound.
It seemed that lesson had already been beaten into her.
He’d hit her for no reason, Amelia fumed, rage welling inside her. That heartless, high and mighty cur had hit a poor, downtrodden woman for no reason at all. She’d been tending the crops, trudging along like everyone around her, bent under the weight of her heavy load, and this monster struck her why – because she wasn’t moving fast enough for him? Amelia wanted to ride right up to that disgrace of a male and throw herself at him. Or better yet – unleash her power upon him and make sure he’d never do something like this ever again.
You don’t even know whether you can do that, a tiny voice cautioned her, but as furious as Amelia was, she was sure she could achieve it in that moment. And the Fae more than deserved it.
She wanted to hurt this male so much, she actually ached with it.
And that, of course, awoke the hidden entity in her core, making Amelia come to her senses in an instant.
She couldn’t give herself away.
That lesson had been instilled into her so deeply that the knowledge broke through even her haze of wrath. It brought her back to her reality faster than a bucket of cold water could’ve. And it was then that she realized that she’d actually stopped in the middle of the road, angling her horse in the direction of the hurt woman and the object of her anger, and that Aroan’s fingers were wrapped tightly around the wrist of the hand that clutched Camille’s mane so tightly that her knuckles stood out white and sharp.
Whipping her head around, she snarled at the male, then hissed without thinking, “Don’t touch me!”
Hidden Revenge (The Kingdoms Book 1) Page 14
