MARIGOLD
Iwasgoingtobe sick.
Even though my stomach was empty—the only thing I’d put in my mouth since last night’s cheese platter was Octavian’s chunky coffee—hanging upside-down over a trotting horse was making me feel like I was going to hurl. I tried to focus on other things—the pain in my shoulders from having my hands tied behind my back, or the gnawing dread in my gut about what was going to happen to me when we got wherever we were going—but every time the horse gave a particularly enthusiastic bounce, the jostling made me gag again.
The dizziness didn’t help, either. I was beginning to feel a little like I was drunk, but without all of the fun stuff that came with having one too many margaritas and forgetting to be embarrassed by my own awkwardness.
At least my skin doesn’t feel like it’s going to fall off anymore. And I’m no longer covered in burning welts.Whatever I’d done back there—I couldn’t even begin to explain it—had taken the worst of the pain with it. I could still feel a faint tingle on my skin, especially in the places where it had direct contact with horse or saddle or kidnapper, but at the moment, at least, that feeling didn’t seem to be growing. It reminded me of the first few times I’d felt thatshiver—holding the invitation to the brothers' masquerade, or spinning around the dance floor pressed against Octavian—when it was more pleasurable than painful, just a quivery little tug at my senses telling me topay attention.
But thinking of the brothers and the events that had led me here only tied my insides up in knots. What had happened? Where were the others? Alastor was here, so I had to assume that Octavian and Radven were nearby as well, butwhere? Did any of them know I’d been taken, or had they decided to wash their hands of me now that they’d gotten what they wanted and I was no longer useful to them? Was I on my own?
Theshiverdanced across my skin, light as a feather. Alastor had mentioned, back in my bedroom, that his brothers thought I’d be a powerful sorceress in their world—thisworld. It felt ridiculous to even entertain that idea, but given what I’d done to those trees, maybe I wasn’t as helpless here as I’d been back home. Maybe I could access that power again.
Assuming I could figure outhow, of course. Which was easier said than done. But therehadto be a way for me to escape this—and to return home. I refused to believe I was, for lack of a better term,screwed.
I twisted my head, lifting it as much as I could in order to see our surroundings. We were riding deeper into the forest, and though we didn’t seem to be following any sort of pre-established trail, it felt like my band of kidnappers knew where they were going. The trees were bigger here than they’d been at the edge of the forest, thick enough to block out the sunlight and starve out any brush or leafy undergrowth. The ground was mostly moss, with a surprising number of toadstools poking through to add some color, and there was a growing feeling ofmoistnessin the air. Even a number of the tree branches were dripping with something green and spongy. More than once something wet landed on my skin with a softplop, and I prayed it was moisture from one of the trees above and not snot from the guy who held me across his lap. He smelled like he hadn’t bathed in a month.
Occasionally, one of the kidnappers would say something, but never anything important, and never anything that gave me any idea of where we might be going or why I’d been taken in the first place. Mostly we rode in silence, which gave me way too much time to think.
My mind kept going back to the brothers. I wasn’t sure whether I should be worried about them or pissed at them, but my heart was leaning toward the former. Our acquaintance, however brief, had already changed me in more ways than I could count. I’d been entangled, caught up in their gilded web, and whether or not that had been their intention didn’t matter. I was stuck—in a way that had nothing to do with being trapped in Therador.
They’re just men, I reminded myself.Rich, out-of-touch men who’ve probably already forgotten about you. Now that they’re home, you aren’t worth more than a passing thought to them.
But though my head kept circling back to that cynical thought, I felt something different deep in my body. This strange experience had bound us to each other—not physically, perhaps, but in a way that I couldn’t ignore. And I suspected, perhaps naively, that if I felt that bond so deeply, then perhaps they did, too.
A particularly rough bounce brought me back to the present, drawing my attention back to my ever-increasing discomfort. I wriggled back and forth, trying to find a position where the saddle wasn’t digging into my lower ribs.
“Stop that,” the man above me said in a mucusy voice I recognized.
I should have guessed my smelly riding companion was Phlegmy.
“I’m just trying to keep from throwing up down the side of your horse,” I replied. Taking a chance, I added, “If you let me ride upright like a normal person, it would probably be easier for both of us.”
He snorted, and that was just as wet as every other sound he made. But he didn’t refuse me, so I pressed a little further.
“You can’t tell me this is comfortable for you,” I said. “And I know you don’t want vomit all over your fancy boot.” His boot was not, in fact, especially fancy—it had clearly seen better days—but there was an etched buckle on the side that made me suspect this smelly cretin cared about his clothes on some level.
And to my surprise, it almost worked.
“None of yer tricks, now,” he said, but I felt him shift above me, and he moved his leg back slightly, as if he expected me to hurl on him any second.
“What are you afraid will happen if you let me sit up?” I asked him. “It’s not like it would make it easier for me to escape. I’m still tied up, and you’re a lot stronger than me.”
My flattery seemed to help.
“I dunno…” he said wetly, but it was obvious he was considering it. I pushed my advantage.
“I’m pretty sure you can handle one tied-up girl, no matter what position she’s in.” If Esmer had been around, she’d have laughed and applauded me for the unintentional suggestiveness of that statement, but either Phlegmy’s mind wasn’t especially dirty or such innuendos were simply lost on people of this world, for which I was honestly grateful.
“Maybe when we stop…” he began, but he cut himself off suddenly with a choking sound, and the horse jerked to a stop.
I hadn’t heard the other horse coming up beside us—I’d been distracted by my attempts to flex my powers of persuasion—but I was all too aware of it now. At the edge of my vision, I could see the pale flank of the horse and the dark, luxurious folds of the smoke-colored cloak belonging to the terrifying leader of this little party.
Once again, I was grabbed by the back of the neck and jerked up.
”Is there something you wish to say?” The hooded figure snarled in their wind-whistle of a voice. Their touch made my skin prickle and sentshiversdown my spine.I had the distinct impression that they could kill me with a snap of their fingers if they wanted to.
“Nope,” I said quickly, fear taking control of my tongue. “I was just making conversation, just trying to make things easier on everyone. Maybe if you tell me what you want from me, we can cut out all of this stuff in the middle and get straight to the part where we help each other.”
