Maybe Eacon would help me?
I immediately eliminate that thought. Even if I was lucky enough to find her village, there’s absolutely no doubt that her loyalties lie with the Scorpions. In fact, I’d be better off avoiding any nearby villages for a while. Who knows which fae might gladly hand me back over to them simply because it might gain them favor?
I survey my surroundings, determined to find another way. I’ll walk until something else presents itself, but there has to be something I’m not seeing. Just as I come to that conclusion, a flash of lightning streaks across the sky, immediately followed by a terrifying crack of thunder that’s so loud my bones vibrate from the sound. If I didn’t know better, I’d think this storm was arguing with my plan. The clouds choose that exact moment to rip themselves open and dump down on me, as though fate itself is bathing me in tears of dissension. I glare up at the clouds, unamused by their obvious efforts to dissuade me.
“Did you not hear them in there?” I demand of the weeping sky and rumbling thunder, gesturing behind me to where the castle sits somewhere far at my back. “They’re slavers,” I argue as lightning whips across the dreary gray to strike down somewhere far off in the looming forest. “What the fuck am I supposed to do with that?” I challenge.
Pushing sopping strands of hair out of my face, I wrap my arms around myself as the temperature drops and the cold rain pelts me. I stop moving and then waver as the sky grumbles above me. I swear it sounds like sonorous approval. With a huff, I stare at the soaring walls of trees around me. This forest will lead me either on a path of mystery and uncertainty or back to the castle, where I’ll have shelter and the time to come up with a better plan. I scrub at my face and shove my long hair off my shoulders. My stomach then pointedly reminds me that it’s empty and not at all happy about it. I scoff at myself; I don’t even know how to forage for food or what kind of beasts I can hunt and eat. I doubt I’ll find desert rats or scarabs scampering about. And there’s that delicacy calledbreadback at the castle…
All I can do is stand there as the storm picks up like a wailing child that just found its lungs. I once again vacillate over what the right choice is. I don’t believe in signs, but I do believe that stupidity is a choice. I can stubbornly keep walking with no shoes, no cloak, no money, and no idea of how to function in these lands. Or I can see the obstinacy for what it is and make a decision that doesn’t leave me dying at the base of a tree either from starvation or the elements.
I groan into the wind and rain, hating the feeling of being trapped, even though in this case, it’s of my own choosing and for the best. I know what I need to do. In accepting that, I also have to admit to myself that I can’t step back into that castle without being honest about the pull I feel to the three fae. I’m pissed at them, but I’m also intrigued. All of it is too dangerous a game to pretend it won’t be a factor. As much as I wish I were, I’m not immune to the effect they have on me. Now that I know who they are and what they’ve done to me as well as so many other blade slaves, I need to find a way to extinguish this, whateverthiseven is between us.
The Order of Scorpions can’t be trusted. I need to reconcile what I thought they might be with who I know they are now. I just wish that was more easily done than I suspect it might be. From the moment I walked into their tent in Tilleo’s stronghold, I shed the masks, embraced the anger, and showed them a piece of who I really am at my core. I didn’t do it on purpose, but that didn’t change how empowered I felt. What I didn’t realize could also happen was that it would leave me vulnerable.
If I admit the truth to myself, I crave what Scorpius, Bones, and Skull have with each other. I don’twantto be alone. I need more than a solitary life of death and barbarity, even though it’s foolish to think I’ll ever find it. Most days, it’s easy to ignore my desire for these things, because they have always been figments of my imagination. And yet, now, they’re not so out of reach.
I don’t want to get a taste of this life and love it, only to find out that it’s poison.
Uselessly I wring water from my hair, even though the rain hasn’t let up in the slightest. I stare up at the storming sky as though it will reveal what I’ll be getting into if I stay.
“What? No flicks of lightning or grumbling thunder to tell me if I’m doomed or not?” I accuse, and then I snort out a laugh because I’m standing in the middle of a downpour and arguing with a tempest. I guess it could be worse, I could still be at the ludere doing this with a sandstorm.
Surrender—and an eager flutter that I have every intention of ignoring—throbs through me as I finally decide. I know I need to be cautious, that expecting too much is dangerous, but for the first time since I can remember, I wonder if maybe the key to my survival here is to demand more. My wishes and needs have never been a consideration before, but I can ensure that doesn’t happen here. For reasons that I refuse to look at too closely, the Scorpions want me to stay. I can leverage that to keep me safe and to get what I need.
If it goes wrong, I’ll leave. I’d be no worse off than I was at the ludere—or than I am now, trekking through this unknown forest with nothing but a chip on my shoulder and the ability to strangle a man to death in less than a minute.
I smile at that.
I can do this. I can find my way riding on the backs of a few Scorpions for a while.
I shake my head at the optimism that tries to lodge itself in my chest. Hope is a dangerous mistress, but I don’t have to rely on that bitch, I only need myself. Well, myself and a good dagger wouldn’t hurt. I exhale a deep, resigned breath and turn around. I start walking back the way I came, doing my best not to think too much about the warmth that dips low in my stomach as I do.
Step one of the new plan is find a dagger. Step two, do whatever I need to do to get away and survive on my own two feet. Step three, vengeance. I’m free, and no matter what, I’m going to make sure I stay that way, and then I’ll make anyone who’s ever hurt me, pay.
ChapterTwenty-Four
The castle slowly appears through the trees, and I refuse to feel relieved by that. It grows bigger as I draw closer, and yet it’s more unpretentious than I thought something called acastlewould be. It’s made of gray rock that’s been amassed together and held in place with matching mortar. A large cliff wraps itself around the base of the building, which has layers of wall towers, stacked wings, and battlements with ornate crenulations. There’s a large round turret in the middle at the top, and even though the Scorpions’ home is smaller than Tilleo’s stronghold overall, it somehow possesses a more imposing visage.
Waves crash around the cliff face. The unbridled storm urges the ocean to rage against the black rock that looks like stacked books on a shelf, as though it’s personally offended by the obstruction. The wind howls and the rain pounds at me, like it too is a cruel master, demanding that I do whatever it tells me to. My eyes burn from the salty drops and the ocean spray the gale slams unforgivingly against me.
Surprisingly, I hear arguing as I stride closer to the kitchen door. The voices are booming, angry, and loud enough to be heard over the burgeoning turbulent storm. I can’t make out what they’re yelling at one another, but I sneak closer and try to pick out the individual threads of the jumbled mess they’re lobbing back and forth.
Lightning snaps down somewhere behind me, but it’s close enough for me to feel the pulse of power and heat before thunder explodes in the air. It sounds and feels as though the sky is falling all around me. I shove back through the thick wood barrier to the safety of the kitchen faster than the storm can scream,“And stay there!”
Silence greets me as I press my back to the closed door as though it will shut out the threats the sky’s been making since I dared to step under its insolent cover. I pull in heavy breaths, water dripping down my face and body to pool quietly on the floor as the Scorpions just stare at me. Neither of us hurry to say anything, but I notice each of them is positioned around the large prep table in the middle of the kitchen as though they needed it between them to keep the peace.
Riall’s eyes trace drops of water as they plummet from me to the floor, and when he spots my bare and now muddy feet, a smile oddly threatens the corners of his mouth before he stifles it. Curio has his arms crossed over his chest as though he wants to ask me what I have to say for myself, like I’m some cria who was just caught doing something I wasn’t supposed to be doing. Tarek has a blank mask in place, and I don’t like that he doesn’t want me to see what he’s feeling—or that I even care to know.
“I’ll give you a month,” I offer, my voice loud in the stifling quiet of the kitchen.
“Five,” Tarek counters without missing a beat.
I scowl. “Two.”
“Three, at a minimum. We need time to make quiet inquiries about you and then chase the credible leads that may come forward. You’ll also need some time to train and get kitted,” Tarek argues, and I scrutinize him as I consider his words.
The leader of the Scorpions stands across from me, his eyes shrewd, his body language assured and intimidating. But I’ve held his cock in my hands, so the big-scary-killer demeanor just doesn’t have the impact it once did.
