My spine goes rigid. Keg frowns.
Then, a dark, foreboding voice answers from across the campfire. “What ‘it’ would you like to see,exactly?”
Chapter 10
AUREN
My heart leaps into my throat.The soldiers all go still, the mood gone from mocking to uneasy in a single second.
I find the source of the voice, gaze jumping to the figure on the other side of the fire. Commander Rip is standing there, arms loose at his sides, spikes jutting from the middle of his forearms like curved fangs in a wolf’s mouth.
For all his easy, relaxed posture he seems to import, there’s menace rising off him like steam.
He looks so different from when I left the tent this morning. All traces of the mellowed, softened look that he had while he slept is gone. Right now, that recollection is so foreign, so ill-fitting, that I doubt whether he really looked like that to begin with. How could I think for a single second that this male was anything but sinister?
In the dappled gray lighting of an almost-dawn, Rip is formidable. The last remnants of night cling to his jet-black hair, to his depthless eyes, the shadows of otherworldliness splashed across his cheeks.
His is a presence meant to chill, to frighten. To take one look and want to run the other way, and I must not be the only one who thinks that, because the soldiers go tense, as if they want to flee.
He’s wearing the same black leather outfit as before, the same contorted branch sword hilt hanging at the belt on his waist. Simple soldier’s clothes that do nothing to hide the threat beneath. A hush weighs over everyone—even Keg falls quiet.
I’m so focused on Rip that I don’t even notice the soldier with him until they both begin walking forward. A foot taller than the commander, bulky chest, mean eyes, pierced lip, long brown hair.The soldier who approached me when I was snooping around the carts.
Great.
No wonder he’s such an observant asshole. It looks like he’s Rip’s right-hand man.
The two of them stop in front of the line of soldiers, homing in on a pair in particular. “Osrik,” Commander Rip says, his tone gruff. “I think these men said something about wanting lessons.”
“I heard that too, Commander,” Osrik replies, a wicked smirk tugging at his lips.
The two soldiers shift on their feet. One of them seems to have gone pale.
Rip stares at them without a hint of emotion. The edge in his eyes is sharp enough to cut glass. “Go ahead and teach them one, Captain Osrik.”
Osrik’s smile is not a nice one. “Gladly.”
Both soldiers blanch, one of them swallowing hard enough that I can hear it from where I stand. “Let’s go.” Osrik turns and the soldiers follow after him, everyone watching them go, including me.
Well, everyone except…
“Come, Auren.”
I startle, Commander Rip suddenly right beside me.
“Where?” I ask warily.
“The carriage,” he answers. I don’t know which I’m more surprised by, the destination, or the fact that he actually answered me.
“Ho, Commander, you want a cup?” Keg asks, breaking the stare-off I didn’t realize I was having with Rip.
The commander shakes his head. “Not right now.” Black eyes flick back to me, and he lifts his hand, motioning for me to walk.
I start forward, and Rip matches my stride. Instead of leading me, he walks on my left, not going faster or slower, our steps in sync. I’m all too cognizant of the sharp tips of his spikes on his arms, careful not to get too close. Every time his arm swings, I tuck mine in a little bit closer to my body.
Rip notices, and a black brow arches up at me. “Nervous?”
“Careful,” I correct, looking straight ahead.
