Cerilla cut through the palpable silence as she pushed past the Fae males. “You were truly going to have her ride in this, brother? She will swelter!” She gestured towards my long cotton pants and tunic. “We will meet you at the horses when Lyra is properly dressed for riding in mid-summer.”
The Commander glanced skyward and shook his head before following a chuckling Solas into the forest. Clearly the Commander held patience for only his sister.
Cerilla waved her hand, and a pile of black material landed on her open hand, making me jump. She glanced at me. “Oh, darling, it’s just basic magic.”
I wanted to ask so many questions, but she held up a top like hers and my voice died in my throat.
“I cannot wear that,” I whispered. She looked confused as she held up the thin strap of material that would show every brutal scar that puckered the skin of my abdomen, back, and chest. Scars I did not want the world to see.
She sighed, the material disappearing before beingreplaced with a dark blouse with elbow-length sleeves that would billow and band at my elbows. I nodded in acceptance and changed behind a nearby tree into the buttery-soft clothes she had given me. The breeze seemed to glide straight through it, teasing my skin with its refreshing embrace against the growing warmth of the sun.
We walked further into the forest, the sun filtering lazily through the thick canopy, casting shadows against the textured bark of the large, lush trees. They seemed to pulse with life, and the vibrant flowers that scattered the ground seemed to bend towards us. I had never seen anything like it.
“Where are we going?” I asked Cerilla.
“The Commander wants you far away from the gate. I cannot tell you much,” she smiled apologetically. “But we will be travelling for five moons.”
A small thrill shot through me. Five days of travelling. Of seeing. I was a prisoner, but the mercy of getting to explore feltalmostlike a taste of freedom. Before I could ask any more questions, three large horses came into view. The largest one was as black as midnight, large bags strapped to its sides. The Commander of Death leaned against the tree next to the large beast, shadows withering around him, crawling to him from the forest like they were bringing him secrets. Solas mounted his honey-coloured steed in one smooth motion; she kicked her front leg impatiently as he adjusted his weight in his saddle. That left only one grey-and-white flecked mare with a braided mane. Cerilla ran to her, patting her along the bridge of her nose.
I was probably going to be dragged along next to one of their horses like the prisoner I was.
“There are only three horses,” I said out loud.
“Congratulations, you can count.” The Commander pushed off the tree and readied his horse’s saddle.
I glared daggers at him, wishing I had my axe so I could throw it at his face.
I was not allowed at the stables at Stonebriar. Father used to tolerate me brushing the horses in the early mornings, until I tried to ride one to escape. Fracturing my arm when I had fallen off that mare had been the least painful injury of the day. Maybe walking wouldn’t be so bad.
“Get on the horse,” he growled.
“No,” I said before I realised.
The Commander held his hand and gestured, my blood bargain tattoo tingling with an uncomfortable heat. I took an involuntary step forward.What was happening?I tried to stop walking. Pain tore through my tattoo and up my arm, stealing my breath.
“You made a mistake, Little Drownling.” The Commander paused, his amusement palpable. “Whatever you ask of me,”he mocked.“One little slip of tongue and your will is mine to bend.”
Dread flooded through me, my naivety costing me once again. I opened my mouth to protest, but he held up his hand.
“Do not speak,” he murmured darkly, causing my words to get caught in my throat until only a strangled gasp of pain could escape.
Bastard!I yelled at him in my head as I glowered at him.
His hands wrapped around my waist, and I hit them uselessly. He continued to lift me as though I were nothing.
The nightmarish horse moved beneath me, and my thighs clenched to keep balance. The horse reared in protest, tossing its head side to side. I slipped sideways, gripping the saddle with white knuckles. The seat jostled,warmth enveloping my back before a solid form melted against me. I sat rigidly, trying to break contact with his impossibly large form.
I glanced over my shoulder, his face much too close. My protest died in a strange, strangled sound.
He chuckled darkly, the sound vibrating straight through me, leaving my hands shaking.
Take his blood,the voice whispered to me on the breeze and I stilled. I hadn’t heard it since I had almost died.Take his blood, give him yours.
He reached around me to grab the reins, his arms encircling me. His scent enveloped me, sandalwood and caramel overpowering my senses. His powerful thighs shifted around me as he nudged the beast into momentum. I jostled forwards violently, before slamming backwards into the smooth bulk of his muscle.
A growl of warning ripped from his throat as his hips ground against me from behind, matching the rhythmic movements of the horse. A large hand wrapped around my waist, and I stiffened beneath the touch, warmth tingling across my skin.
“Engage here.” He slid his hand across my abdomen, his warm breath tickling my ear. His hand slid back to my waist sliding lower to rest at the top of my hip, strong fingers squeezing me painfully. “Soften here.”
