Once the tribute stopped fighting, I slowly lowered him to his feet. He wasn’t as small as Simon or Finn but wasn’t tall, either. He was leanly muscled, his skin was a honeyed amber, and his black hair was thick and curly. He scowled at me overhis shoulder, unhappy with my treatment, but he should have expected it. I couldn’t just let him run. He would endanger himself, and I couldn’t allow that.
Hesitantly, I released his arms and straightened. I thought that the fight had left him, but the moment he was no longer encircled in my arms, he elbowed me hard in the side and took off again. I grunted from the impact, stunned just long enough for him to dash out of the tent.
He didn’t get far. Tyut and I hurried after him, only to find him maybe ten paces away, shouting and kicking as Einar had him pinned against the cushions. Matthew watched anxiously from a few feet away, clutching the pillow he’d probably been seated on. Normally Einar wouldn’t get involved with tributes, but from the looks of it, this one got too close to his bondmate. Einar was overprotective and trusted no one around Matthew. Not even another tribute.
The tribute wasn’t going anywhere with Einar pinning him like that, but I didn’t like the terror in his eyes. I stepped in, nudging Einar out of the way so I could help the tribute to his feet. He fought against me as well, and it was obvious there would be no settling him tonight. Not while he was so frightened.
With a heavy sigh, I turned to Tyut. “Are you willing to bind him to you?”
His eyes widened, and he looked between me and the panting tribute who was still looking around for an escape. We didn’t like to use restraints—it sent the wrong message—but when it came to tributes like this one, binding him to a brother was the one way we could guarantee his safety.
“I believe he is better left with you for the time being,” Orthorr said as he finally rejoined us. He had gone to deal with the abandoned children and had left me to manage with the tributes by myself. The turn of events only made it more obviousto me that I wasn’t as suited to the position of clan leader as he thought.
“Clan leader?” I queried, grunting when the tribute made another bid to wiggle free of my grasp. I hauled him back, keeping my grip just shy of bruising on his arms.
“Until he better understands, he needs someone with a strong will,” Orthorr said, putting his hand out for a set of metal bindings. The tribute thrashed harder in my arms when he saw them, foreign words spilling from his lips that were edged in panic. I didn’t enjoy the thought of binding him to me, but I worried for his safety if he ran off. Hopefully, in a day or two, he’d settle and I could remove them. Otherwise, we would be stuck together until Simon returned home. The day couldn’t come too soon.
Four
ZAKAI
All my plans of escape disintegrated the minute they fastened the iron shackles on. If they’d just put them on me, there was the potential to still get away. Instead, they put one on my wrist and one on the stoic barbarian’s, effectively tying us together.
I glared at him and jerked hard on the restraint, but they didn’t budge, and he didn’t react outside of a sigh. He grabbed my arm a little gentler this time, urging me along, but I refused to go. I dug my heels in, trying to stop our forward movement. I had no idea what was in store for me once he took me away. At least out here, I was surrounded by people. What were the chances they would intervene if he tried to hurt me?
A small blond man spoke to my captor, his eyes darting to me and away nervously. From his stature, I wouldn’t think he was a barbarian, but his clothes were the same as theirs, and he had one of those necklaces they all seemed to be wearing as well. He gestured to me, words rushed, and once he was through, the barbarian I was bound to released my arm with a grunt andstopped trying to pull me away. Relief flooded me. I felt safer out here.
With more care, the barbarian led me to a spot littered with pillows where others were seated and talking amongst themselves. They all stared at me, but none tried to speak to me directly. What were the chances any of them understood me?
“Does no one speak my tongue?” I asked, eyeing them all. Many were women, which, according to the rumors, weren’t from here since the barbarians couldn’t father females. Surely one of them could understand my words.
I got a few sympathetic looks, but none spoke up. The hope faded just as quickly as it had arrived. I was all alone here.
I’d never been on my own before, not truly. Between nannies, guards, my parents, even my older siblings, the only times I was ever truly alone were in my chambers at night, and there were still guards standing outside my door even then. And while I wasn’t technically alone here, without being able to speak with anyone, it felt as though I was.
A chubby man with spots on his cheeks and nose approached with a kind smile, offering me a bowl. I was wary, but I noticed others had the same thing, and when I peeked inside, it was food he was offering me. I took it, frowning at the contents. It wasn’t what I was used to eating. Meat and bread and some vegetables I wasn’t familiar with. Nothing nearly up to the standard I was used to. Then again, it smelled better than what we’d received on the trip here. That had only been dried meats and bread, for the most part.
The barbarian I was attached to accepted his own bowl with a grunt and started eating without a word. I was feeling petulant, so I jerked my hand. I’d thought it’d only make him flounder a little, but I caught him off guard enough that he dropped the entire bowl into the dirt. A smile tugged at my lips. That was a happy accident.
He glared at me and an idea struck. If I could annoy him enough, he’d be forced to take the shackles off, and I’d have my opportunity to escape. I could definitely be annoying if I wanted to.
I played innocent when he spoke to the man who brought us our food, taking a bite of the meat more obnoxiously than I had to. It surprised me that it was actually good, with enough seasoning to add flavor without overwhelming the cut of the meat. I hummed a happy noise, taking another bite, and when I noticed the barbarian’s scowl as he watched me eat, I only got more obnoxious about it. And when he got his next bowl, I jerked my hand again, causing it to land in his lap. It only spilled a little this time, which was unfortunate, but he growled something at me that I guessed was a threat or something considering the glances we were getting from the people nearby. I ignored him.
Once my bowl was empty, I stretched, making it that much harder for him to eat while my arms were in the air. I played up the innocence, batting my eyes when he gave me another dirty look, and kept on stretching, making faces as I pretended to work out the kinks in my muscles.
“My journey was so long. My muscles are sore,” I pouted, when he wouldn’t stop glaring at me. I knew he didn’t understand me, but he picked up on my tone. His scowl softened just a little, and he went back to grumpily eating his supper without any complaints.
After he finished eating, he stood and went to join the older man who wore robes instead of just trousers like the rest of them seemed to favor. I was forced to join them, standing beside the stoic barbarian as he and the older one spoke. He ignored me completely, which wouldn’t do. If he wanted to be stuck to me, then he had to pay attention.
Grabbing the chain of the shackles, I jerked on it hard enough to make him jerk. His head whipped around and he bared his teeth at me, clearly pissed off. In response, I flinched dramatically, raising my hands up to protect myself.
“Please, please! Don’t hurt me!” I cried. Peeking over my shoulder, I saw the frowns of his clan mates. I bit back a grin. At least some of them weren’t happy with the thought of me being mistreated. Would that affect how he interacted with me?
Callous roughened hands wrapped gently around mine, and when he pulled my hands down so I could see his face, he looked abashed. He murmured something, shaking his head, and ran his thumbs over my knuckles in a way that was probably meant to be reassuring. It’d be sweet if I wasn’t a captive here.
UTTIN
Guilt sat heavily in my gut when I saw the terror on the tribute’s face. I’d forgotten for a moment that he had just arrived and was acting out because of fear. I couldn’t hold that against him, and acting brash would only frighten him more.
