“I am their commanding officer. Which means you’ve been bickering with the one person who might actually keep Balor from splitting you open like you did his lip.” His eyes locked with mine, and I gulped at the threat. “Balor was not pleased with the little attack from you and your lover boy. He believes that women who talk over men—let alone fight—should be punished. He’s old-fashioned like that.”
“Are you old-fashioned like that?”
My gut clenched.
“Gods, no,” he huffed.
I didn’t know how to respond to that. So I didn’t.
“I will lift you off the horse once you agree to temper yourself for the night. Do you agree?”
“He said he wouldgutme. I will silence my tongue if you agree to protect me from him.”
“I will protect you from Balor. I swear it.”
I nodded in agreement. Trusting a Veiler was dangerous and had the potential of getting me killed—but I didn’t have a choice.
Rowan lifted me from the horse and planted me firmly on the Ground. He untied the rope knot on the saddle and lightly pulled me toward where the others were setting up camp. Dropping the end of the rope, he gestured for me to sit on a large rock.
Looking around at the culled, I noticed that none of them were bound. Even Serene and Oliver were no longer tied.
“I see that no one else is bound.”
“They never threatened a Veiled One, and you have… on multiple occasions.”
I scoffed.
“That’s ridiculous. You’re idiotic if you think Icould take you down.”
“No onewould ever think that. You couldn’t even cut my throat when given the opportunity to do so.”
“Then why are my wrists still bound if I’m not a threat?”
“I never said you weren’t a threat. A fingernail scratch can still hurt,” he taunted with a slight curve to his lips.
I wanted to scratch his eyes out—to show him a true fingernail scratch—but I could barely even see his eyes through the narrow slits of the mask that hestillwore.
“Do you always wear that mask? It seems like it would be uncomfortable for long periods of time.”
Maybe if I made light conversation, he would stop seeing me as a threat and cut me loose. The binding was chafing.
The heat of the fire that the Veilers had built hit me, and I inched further forward on the rock to be closer to it.
“No. Sometimes I sleep.”
Rowan looked at me with a curious glance, as if I were the peculiar one. Another Veiler walked up to him and whispered something in his ear. Rowan’s playful expression dropped. “I’ll be back.”
“Wait, what about Balor?” I asked nervously. “You said you would protect me from him!”
Anxiety blanketed me. I was an easy target out here, especially without full mobility.
“Balor won’t dare try anything. Not if he values his life.” His words lent me some relief, but not nearly enough. Rowan and the other Veiler roamed out of sight.
I sat on the rock and looked around at the camp. There were seven large tents pitched around the campsite. I counted twenty Veilers and eleven culled, including myself. Most of the culled sat around the fire in silence. Their eyes were lifeless. Rowan had warned me that my hope would go away, but theirs—it was long gone.
My wrists were still bound, but the tail-end that Rowan usually carried or tied to the saddle was lying in the grass. All the Veilers seemed to be busy either setting up the campsite or engaged in other tasks. I saw Oliver and another boy of his age sitting next to each other, quietly staring into the fire. I stood and moved toward them.
I crouched beside the fire, feeling its warmth brush against my skin. The flickering light cast deep shadows over Oliver’s face, making the exhaustion in his eyes seem even heavier. He looked hollowed out, like a shell of the boy I had seen back home—always with his nose buried in a book, always somewhere else in his mind.
