by Sara Hubbard
“You say you’re a man of honor and yet you overpower and kidnap an innocent woman.”
Roland inhaled deeply and nodded before walking away from me. I’d pushed too hard. If only I’d shown some restraint. I needed his help and instead of getting him to talk to me and trust me, I’d forced him to clam up.
I sat on the damp grass alone, waiting for them to bind my hands and wrists like they did every time we stopped. I held up my arms to observe the damage the frequent binding had left on my wrists; they were pink and broken in parts, open wounds never getting sufficient time to mend. These marks were the only traces of injury left on my body.
When Nole and Roland finished talking, Roland went over to sit beside the burgeoning fire while Nole approached me with a confident gait that commanded every ounce of my attention. My gaze lowered to his thick, strong thighs and the way the pants he wore hugged them. He stopped a few feet from me and bent down so that his eyes were level with mine.
“I will give you one chance and one chance only.” He raised a finger for emphasis. “We will not tie you this evening, but I warn you, if you prove me a fool I will not show you any mercy. I will whip your back to shreds.” He patted the whip that was fastened to the side of his hip just opposite his sword. “Do we understand each other?”
I nodded. His intense eyes showed no trace of a bluff. He was capable of hurting me, though I thought it might pain him—more than a little. I understood this much of his character in our brief interactions, but I also believed him to be true to his word. They all seemed to be.
I followed Nole to the fire, but sat outside of their circle, not entirely sure if they would welcome me. They were unsure of me; I could read this as plain as day in their wary eyes. James regarded me as if he wanted to squash me like a bug with the heel of his well-worn leather boots. I hated the way he looked at me. Lustful and drenched in hate. He made my skin crawl.
The sun fell behind the mature trees as we sat—mostly in silence—and broken rays of light raked through their ranks. The shimmering light touched the basin, and the water glittered like diamonds while illuminating the fish that swam lazily beneath its surface. Multicolored chickados whistled sweetly, their sounds complemented by the steady flow of water.
Remmie soon broke through the trees, his hands tainted with blood as he gripped the ears of a rabbit in his right hand. He passed it off to Roland, who passed it off to Otis. Otis looked annoyed, but began to prepare the meat without protest or comment. Rabbit was Remmie’s usual catch, though he had managed a slack-jawed pheasant the day before.
Remmie walked over to the water. On one knee he ran his hands through the foamy surface and scrubbed his hands free of animal blood. With closed eyes, he splashed water onto his face and licked his lips. His tunic sleeves strained at the seams as his arms bent to undo his braids. His long, wavy hair fell over his shoulders and back. It seemed to glisten under the moonlight. I couldn’t stop myself from watching him. When I realized that I was doing it, I quickly turned away, hoping I hadn’t been caught.
Unfortunately, I had. Roland smirked at me and heat pooled in my cheeks and neck. It was bad enough to be staring at Remmie. It was even worse to get caught. I was ashamed of myself for admiring his face and eyes and the way his pants hugged his muscular bottom and the ridges of his strong legs.
What was wrong with me? How could I even think these thoughts after he and his friends had kidnapped me? And even if the situation were different, I didn’t want a man in my life. Not now.
Especially not a Daentarry. My people would ostracize me.
I bit my cheek—hard—attempting to snap myself out of the stupor I seemed to find myself in when I looked at Remmie; he made me feel much weaker than I already felt. I had the horrible feeling that he might just cause my eventual downfall. With the burning of cut flesh in my mouth and the resulting metallic taste that followed, I managed to regain my focus.
Engage them. Get them to open up. Force them to like you. Get back on track.
Cautiously, I rose to my feet and crept closer to the savages. I felt safest next to Roland, so, naturally, that was where I sat.
Otis leaned back against a tree and began to hum an unfamiliar tune. It was pretty and magical, and I was grateful for the calm it caused me to feel momentarily.
“What is that tune?” I asked him.
He cocked an eyebrow that was followed by a smile. “You like it?”
Nole groaned and poked around the fire with a crooked stick.
“It’s very pretty. Like a lullaby.”
“He never shuts up.” Remmie dropped to sit opposite me. “It wears on you after a while. Always the same song.”
“What is it?”
Otis looked pleased with my interest. He jumped up and all but flew over to his horse to grab his lute. He then scooted over toward me, sitting so close that I could feel the warmth of his leg through our clothing as it touched mine.
He strummed a few chords.
His companions groaned. James looked as though he very well could have been contemplating murder.
“Now you’ve done it.” Roland smirked playfully.
I found Otis’s excitement, and their annoyance, amusing. I stifled a giggle. With Otis occupied, Roland took over tending the meat, turning it methodically every few minutes or so while it hung suspended from a spit over the open flame.
Otis began to sing along to the perfectly plucked chords. It was then that I realized why the men were so set against him singing. He sounded worse than my friend Anne when she had tackled childbirth several months before. Pained and hoarse. A sound that would justify a man cutting off his own ears. His music and his humming spoke to my soul, but his singing made me wish for an early death.
I did not add to the insults the men threw at him like a barrage of arrows. Instead, I listened painfully to his words and committed them to memory. Oh, how he loved to sing. He seemed to have no idea how awful he sounded and continued even after the men began throwing sticks at him, but the smile never left his face. In fact, his smile grew wider.
James grumbled under his breath.
Otis’s happiness was complete and infectious. Once I committed the song’s words to memory, I sang right along with him. I might have been tone deaf too for all I knew, but anyone who’d heard me sing before had been quick to compliment me, and so I figured if he played and I sang, we could both enjoy the music and maybe the men might not give him such a hard time. His smile faded and his nimble fingers slowed to a stop. Perhaps I was just as tone deaf as he was.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I…”
“No. Continue,” he urged, and then resumed playing. The song was about love and loss and being hopelessly unable to separate the two. It brought tears to my eyes as I immediately thought of my family and how I might never see them again. How they might figure me for dead and never have the knowledge if I lived or died. Never have closure.
After the last of the chords poured from his fingers, he stared at me, his mouth open, just a fraction.
What was he thinking? I looked around the circle to see the rest of the savages staring at me as well, mouths slack.
“Did I do something wrong?” Immediately I looked to Roland who, with his massive hands, gently patted my back.
“Not at all. We aren’t often blessed with a voice such as yours. It is a very beautiful song, and it has finally been given justice.”
I looked away, trying to hide my embarrassment as heat pooled in my cheeks.
“Sing another. I will follow your lead,” Otis told me. And so I did. They must have liked it because they forgot all about the meat. It ended up charred and tasted of soot, but no one commented about it, save James.
“Would any of you mind if I washed?” I asked after I’d finished eating.
“I’d be glad to accompany her.” The corners of James’s mouth settled into an evil-looking grin.
I made a face, praying the men would know better than to leave me alone with such a lecherous
man.
“We should all wash up. It’s been days,” Roland said, saving me, whether this was his intention or not.
I breathed a sigh of relief, but then panic resurfaced. Did they mean for us to all bathe together?
James was no gentleman, but weren’t the others?
“Is there something wrong?” Nole said.
“Um, no.” I fidgeted with my fingers.
“You have something against sharing the water with us?” Nole narrowed his eyes at me and sat up a little straighter.
“Don’t the women from where you’re from appreciate…modesty?”
They all laughed riotously at that. Apparently not.
“She’s growing on me.” Otis was still laughing.
“No, the women where we’re from know nothing of modesty. A Daentarry woman in your situation would strip down naked and jump into the water without an ounce of hesitation.”
“I see.”
“Don’t worry,” said James. “We won’t look—much.”
I glared at him. It wasn’t the other’s eyes I worried about. It was his.
All but Otis and I decided to get cleaned up. By the light of the fire, I could barely see their silhouettes, but I was certain from the shape of their outlines that they were naked before they hit the water. A sequence of splashes sounded followed by a gentle spray of cool water. The darkness gave me comfort and hope that I could proceed without being seen. I desperately wanted to feel clean again.
“You were worried they would watch and yet here you sit, watching them swim naked. You little minx.” Otis grinned widely at me. He sat on the ground, his back and head leaned against the tree behind him, looking so at ease it made me ache for home. He grabbed his satchel and fluffed it before shoving it under his head.
I shook my head and was grateful for the darkness so he couldn’t see my cheeks burning. “I…no…I didn’t mean…”
“You should bathe. You’ll feel better for it and we’ve got a long day ahead of us tomorrow.”
“James wouldn’t do anything to me with the others around, would he?” My voice was barely a whisper. This thought played a large part in my hesitation. With the others, I felt reasonably safe.
“You are right to fear James, but the others will not let him touch you. You can count on that. He is not one of us, you know. The king forced his presence on us to ensure we returned.”
“Why wouldn’t you return?”
He smiled. “We’re not ogres. And you’re very smart to engage us. It will be difficult for us to give you to the king after weeks of traveling together. You’ve already won me over.” He winked and closed his eyes.
“Weeks?”
The Daentarry man saw through me so easily, yet his words encouraged me. He indicated my plan was working. I wanted to throw myself down on the ground and hug him.
“We travel for another twenty, maybe twenty-five days.”
“Why are you telling me all of this?”
He shrugged. “It will make the journey more pleasant,” he said with intonation, using the exact words I had used days before. “And your knowledge of this won’t change the outcome, will it?” He shot me a look that I couldn’t decipher.
“Thank you for speaking so freely with me…and for earlier. It was nice to forget about everything for a few minutes,” I said, referring to our musical collaboration.
He nodded slowly, his eyes visible under the cover of his brow. “You have the voice of an angel.”
I rose from the debris-covered earth and walked to the stream. I could see the outline of the men in the water but could not tell one from the next. This made me feel somewhat secure about removing my clothing but not confident enough to bare all. So I removed everything but my thin, white sheath.
The men wrestled with each other in the water, and dared each other to jump from the peak of the waterfall. Several of them did, and I averted my eyes as their massive bodies leaped from an uneven bedrock ledge, fearing they jumped to their deaths. Why did I feel the need to look away? Why did I care?
Wouldn’t my situation get better if they hurt themselves?
I walked in slowly, almost returning to the shore. The cool water made my body tremble and goose bumps claimed my skin. With chattering teeth I forged ahead until the water’s surface circled my shoulders. I dipped my head back and struggled to refrain from screaming. So cold. So very cold. And yet, it was warmer than the air. It didn’t take long for my body to adjust and prefer the water to land. I gently freed my hair from the caked mud and worked through the tangles. I scrubbed my face and skin, and tried to remove the stains from my sheath—without removing it.
My muscles tightened and my hands curled into fists as a silhouette approached me. I crouched down and, with my head underwater, I grabbed a rock by my feet. I hid it behind my back as I surfaced, praying the shadowed man was not James. Anyone but James. I imagined bludgeoning him as I screamed for help from the others. Would they help me or him? Otis had said they wouldn’t let him hurt me. I believed him.
“What is your game?” Remmie?
“My game?” I treaded water, ripples materializing out from around me.
“Daentarry are unforgiving, Isame.”
I drifted away momentarily, my stomach somehow upset and full of butterflies as the sound of my name rolled off Remmie’s tongue.
“Nole meant what he said earlier; he will hurt you.”
“And you wouldn’t?”
He didn’t respond.
“I have no intention of playing you for fools,” I said quietly. “I meant what I said. I have little chance of escape so I might as well make the best of the situation.” Not a lie—exactly. I did have little chance of escape and I was making the best out of the situation. I just hoped that my best would make them set me free.
“No, you’re doing much more than making the best out of the situation.”
One of our two moons broke through the clouds. The water reflected in his eyes, making them sparkle. My pulse quickened as he dragged a hand through his wet hair and he licked his lips. Everything about his face and muscled body was perfect. I felt compelled to reach out and touch him. To run my hands along the length of his arms and caress the skin decorated in black ink. It sickened me. Perhaps the only one to be hurt by gaining a friendship with these men was me?
He inched closer to me and my muscles tightened so much so that I found it difficult to keep my head afloat. He grabbed my elbow to steady me as my rigid body lowered into the water. I gripped his muscular shoulders. My whole body betrayed me now and, if he continued to touch me, I would fall to the bottom of the stream, unable to force my muscles to cooperate.
Slowly, he wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me toward him, his warm, naked flesh and mine separated only by a thin piece of fabric that might as well not exist in its saturated state. I could feel every curve of his muscles through it and I could feel his attraction for me, pressing against my leg. I’d never been so close to a man before. I wanted him closer. His breath was a warm caress on my ear and I closed my eyes, savoring the moment. Beside him, it was like I no longer had control of my body.
“I thought I wasn’t your type.”
“You’re not.”
“Then release me.” I opened my eyes; his gaze rocked me to the point where I felt faint and the world around us seemed to spin. He was much more dangerous than I thought.
“You mean, let you go?”
“Yes.” I wasn’t sure if he referred to my being his prisoner or if he meant his arms around me.
“Because of your fiancé?”
I sighed. I should have said yes, but I couldn’t. That was a lie. I wanted him to let me go because the longer he held me the more I didn’t want him to let me go. I couldn’t allow myself to feel this way for him. I had already agreed to marry another man.
“Perhaps you should return to the fire,” he whispered.
“Perhaps I should.” His face was mere inches from mine. I was lost. I had forgotte
n that he’d kidnapped me. In that moment it didn’t matter. The world around us faded until all that existed was me and the maddeningly alluring savage man in front of me. My hands ran down his bare arms and his face moved so close I could feel his breath on my lips. I couldn’t think while he touched me or while I was drunk on his smoky pine scent. I pushed away from him and walked up the gently sloping rock, up and out of the water. My dress clung to my body, revealing everything. I felt his eyes on my back and I didn’t care. I wanted him to want me. It might help me. Yes, that was the reason. The one and only reason. He could help me.
Whatever the future held, I had a feeling neither one of us would have much control over it. We would both suffer. I knew I would. There was just no getting around it. Not anymore.
Chapter 8
THE SAVAGES SLEPT. Leaves and branches rustled as the dying fire quietly crackled. The waterfall rushed, competing with James’s rumbling snore. I thought the sound of the water would help lull me to sleep—it didn’t. My mind was full and I couldn’t foresee any hope of relief in the immediate future.
Sighing, I gazed up at twinkling stars in the blue-black sky. I almost missed the voice that beckoned me from the darkness.
I sat up and looked around. Had I finally lost my mind? I could have sworn I heard something.
“Psst,” it called again.
I strained my eyes, rubbed them, and the hazy mess around me came into focus.
“Isame.”
My heart raced and I swallowed hard.
It couldn’t be, could it?
Ethan. A shadowy figure waved wildly at me from behind a tree. It was him! He was really here! My heart leaped up into my throat and a massive smile curved my mouth. I continued scanning the woods until my eyes locked onto the serious hazel eyes of my father. He stood on the opposite edge, his face highlighted by the moonlight shining in the water. He looked pained and full of rage. Henry stood by his side, and looked every bit as angry.
My face quickly fell. Surely the three of them weren’t foolish enough to think they could rescue me from five savage warriors alone? I could have killed them myself for being so reckless even though seeing them all—even Henry, surprisingly—gave me so much comfort.
