“Hey! I’m a dragon, not some lowly hog.”Braxius gave an indignant huff, and Dae chuckled at the moody creature, the soft sound deep and alluring.
A blush ran across my cheeks at the thought of Dae sharing this tiny bed with me. How my limbs would have to tangle around his, how my body would push against him, the soft parts of mine pressed against the harder parts of him. Shaking my head, I cleared my throat. “Goodnight,” I spat, my body tensing into a still position. Braxius worked his way under the pelt and tucked himself into my side. I promptly shut my eyes, counting the seconds until the dark consumed me.
“I’ll only be gone about an hour,” Dae said the following evening. So far, we’d managed to avoid nearly any interaction with others, besides the chef doling out stew and the dish washers afterward. Dae had collected eggs for our breakfast, just two, one for each of us. I shared some of mine with Braxius.
“Alright,” I said as nonchalantly as I could, maybe sounding a little too forced in the process because Dae stared me down for a moment. I raised my eyebrows and greeted him with a wide, closed lip smile.
“Seriously, don’t leave,” he warned.
“And why would you assume I’d do that?” I asked with false innocence.
His scruff covered lips flattened as he tilted his head to the side with a scrutinizing stare. “You’ll draw too much attention, being the newcomer who kicked Tresson’s ass last night. It wouldn’t surprise me if you stumbled into some unsanctioned matches by some more than eager participants. Stay. Here.” Dae left the tent, pushing through the opening with a little more force than normal to emphasize his seriousness.
I counted to twenty in my head, then pulled out one of his drawers and donned a grimy, stain ridden woolen cloak. Braxius wiggled into the crook of my neck beneath the hood. We set out, keeping the hood low so that it covered all of my copper hair and about half of my face.
From our trip to gather eggs this morning, Dae had roughly explained some of the camp’s landmarks. One of which was the tent where the Council of Eleven congregated. He’d mentioned the structure of daily routines, which led me to discover this was the perfect time to eavesdrop.
Employing the skills I’d mastered over the years, I gracefully weaved through tents, ducking and positioning to avoid being seen by most. Part of me felt guilty for kicking over a can of human waste so that it spilled toward an unlit fire pit, but when I made it several tents away and heard the arguing begin over who made the mess, I knew minor distractions like that would help me continue with the least amount of attention.
The air somehow thickened the closer I got to their tent. It sat on the outskirts, the forest bordering the back. I crouched low as I silently stalked along the side wall, hidden from view of anyone coming or going. Not knowing if anyone was actually inside, I was relieved when I overheard muffled conversation. I stilled, listening.
“Half of us,” a man said. “We won’t know what we’re dealing with.”
“If we announce that, people will talk. I say we stick to the usual routine,” a woman replied.
“And what happens if we find it?” another asked.
“We won’t be able to strike, anyway. Scouting first,” a man said.
“So that’s settled then. We’ll announce it with the southern convoy. Two members to Argora Vale.”
“They’re going to Argora Vale? That’s a death wish,” Braxius said.
A few mumbles of agreement preceded the tent opening as some members exited. Peering around the corner, the individuals were dressed in the same ranking uniform Marvoe and his minions wore. I waited a few minutes before slipping into the surrounding trees and navigating out of sight until I emerged at another point in the camp.
This area seemed to be more…civilized. Perhaps not every member in this camp was a trained fighter. Men and women dressed in distinguishable light colored clothing padded around, holding large baskets, rolling dough, stitching clothing. A musical sound, one from metal against metal, laced their movements. When I looked closer, I realized why. These weren’t members—they were prisoners.
Prisoners used to produce labor and goods, further confirmed when armed members yanked away loaded baskets of bread and clean folded clothes and linens. My stomach churned, and my second-nature training kicked in. Six surrounding guards, though not mingling near the prisoners directly, stood at various positions around this section. Not keenly observant, seeing as I trounced in through the trees unnoticed.
A second glance at the segregated prisoners had my blood boiling. They were nearly emaciated. Dirt smudged across theirskin, oily hair, weeping wounds where they were worked the hardest. All I needed was a way to sever their chains.
I went to move closer, to find what kind of lock I was working with and scour for any nearby materials to use when I saw him. I froze. Dae approached with an empty basket, dropping it at a woman’s uncovered feet. His hand pinched her shoulder, forcing her to wince under his grip. My mind spun, and my heart raced. He leaned in, whispering, to which she replied in a muted fashion.
Then he forced her away with a shove, causing her to stumble until she caught herself on the log near the fire. Her chains rustled, and I felt like a thick iron set had been wrapped around me as well, constricting my chest. I wanted to drop to my knees.
How could I have been so stupid to think him any different from the monsters in this camp? He came here, and chose to stay, even after witnessing the brutality that lived among these people. Not only that, he actively participated. There was a loud snap from the fire, either that or the sound of my heart breaking for being so stupid and blind to the obvious.
When it felt like my limbs regained their strength, my heart only shattered further. Under any other circumstance, I would free these people now. I’d take down the sentinels on my way and run until I got them to safety. But chances of success were too slim, if existent at all. These sentinels could be loaded up with magic, and these people so weak they probably couldn’t survive a week of travel, especially not with the lack of food resources along the way.
And I needed answers still. The Eleven were planning a trip into The Cursed Kingdom, and geographically they would have to take Witches Pass. According to Dante, the northern end of the kingdom had been corrupted by resurging dark magic, so how would these people travel there? And why risk it? What secrets were they holding? Whatever they were, I couldn’tunderestimate their importance. Left unchecked, the spreading curse in Argora Vale could continue all the way down to Rahana. Where my people were. My friends, my family. They needed this information.
I wanted the ground to swallow me whole. Making the choice to ignore these prisoners for the sake of my own people didn’t just shatter my heart, it pulverized it. What kind of person was I becoming? Maybe Marvoe and his cronies didn’t look like ink ran through their veins because of magic from the dark source. Maybe it was the natural consequence of making inhumane decisions over the course of time.
I could almost feel it spreading in my own soul. Dae didn’t wear those inky veins, but from what I’d seen today, he was well on his way.
50
Ro
