Now, he’s got problems onbothsides of the bridge.
I’m thrilled.
A smile spreads across my face as my guard yanks me back up again while the rest of the soldiers start to disperse. I’m dragged toward a prisoner cart. There’s a Stone Sword leaning against the wheel, talking to two others.
“Jailer,” my guard says before tossing me in the direction of the fae who looks over. I slam into him. “Lock her up. The king wants her taken to Lydia. She’s to be burned in the city. Made an example of.”
The jailer nods, wrenching me by the arm as he starts hauling me toward the end of the cart. He takes a key from his belt and unlocks it. I try to yank my arm away, but he has a solid grip.
Reaching up, I pull at his hair and claw at his face, but he only wrenches open the cart door and shoves me inside. I land in a painful sprawl, unable to get up before he closes it and locks me inside.
He and the others walk away, but I spin around and search the cart. It would be nice if I could find a sword laying around to stab someone with, but there’s not even a splinter sticking up.
I grind my teeth with frustration and curl my hands around the metal bars to look around. At least the cart isn’t hitched to any horses yet. It’s also empty, so I have the place to myself. When I spot Carrick again, I move to the end of the cart to see him better.
He looks furious.
“Where are Fassa and Friano?”
“Here, my king!”
A couple of males hurry over from across the camp. Both have long black hair and identical faces. They’re the only ones around not in Stone Sword uniforms.
“Get in here now!” the king shouts before he storms into one of the buildings.
The twins and a few of the higher ranking Badges follow him in, the door slamming shut behind them.
I let out a tense breath and sit back, my attention shifting to the soldier who just died. A couple of other Stone Swords have wrapped him in sheets. They lift him up and start to carry him away.
Both males are doing their very best not to touch the body, even wrapped up. I can’t help but feel sorry for the poor dead fae. He crawled all the way here to warn them, and this is the thanks he gets.
Though, if heistruly contagious like the king mentioned, maybe Carrick will die a horrible, veiny death in his sleep tonight. I cross my fingers in my lap. May the goddesses bless us all.
My sore body slumps, and I crawl to the back of the cart and lean against the wall with a sigh. I pull at my dress, making sure I’m covered up as much as I can be in this swathe of golden fabric. Though I can’t get comfortable or take in a nice deep breath—not with this stone around my middle. But I rest my eyes anyway, because I’m exhausted.
I fall asleep still crossing my fingers.
CHAPTER 37
AUREN TURLEY
Thump.
Two thousand nine hundred and ninety-seven
Thump.
Two thousand nine hundred and ninety-eight
Thump.
Two thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine
I’ve been counting every single one of Slade’s heartbeats since I woke up. Hand splayed right over his pure golden scale, eyes watching the rise and fall of his breaths. Ribbons itching to trace over his muscled pecs and abs.
I’m content to watch him breathe. To feel his warmth. To marvel at the changes on his body. To simply let myself revel in the fact that he’s here and that we’re together again. That his empowering presence made our pair bond flare, destroying all the other worms writhing in my head.
They’re gone. Finally, satisfyingly, gone.
