My heart thundered when my eyes caught on the sword. Something dark slid down its tip. Thick and black.
Blood.
Dakkari blood, I knew.
Had Benn…
My eyes quickly snapped closed when Benn turned to regard the room, the torchlight shifting with his body.
“The horde king’s wounds were cleaned,” I heard him comment.
Jacques hesitated but then said, “Mina.”
A grunt.
“Tell her that if she tends his wounds again, she will be punished for it,” Benn said. “I want him weakened. It is safer for all of us. And if his wounds fester…well, we only have to keep him alive until the black moon. The witches will be here by then. And then it won’t matter.”
“I’ll tell her,” Jacques said quietly.
Shortly after, Benn’s footsteps faded away, walking towards his private quarters, and I heard Jacques sigh. He went to the little corner he’d claimed for himself and lay down. He wasn’t that far from me and I focused on the sound of his breathing, trying to block out Jerrod’s loud snores.
Almost as soon as he lay down, his breathing went even. He’d not slept the night before either and I knew that nothing would wake him.
With a deep breath, I slid up from the ground, my bare feet padding across the stone floor, hopping over still, slumbering bodies. It was dark in the hallway, nearly pitch black but I knew that a torch was kept lit down the corridor. My eyes adjusted to the dark as best as they could and I slid my hand along the stone to help guide me.
When I reached the torch, I plucked it from the wall. Then I went to get water from the well along with the grey cloth I’d done my best to wash earlier.
Navigating the maze of the Ghertun’s kingdom, I soon reached the hallway where the horde king was held. A sigh of relief emerged from my throat when I peeked around the corner and saw Taylor against the wall, his head bobbing as he valiantly tried to stay awake.
It didn’t take long for him to doze off completely and I hurried to the door, slipping inside and gently closing it.Hopinghe was none the wiser.
When I turned, I saw the horde king, sitting on his bed of stone, his feet firmly on the floor, though its height was high. His strength must be returning if he had the energy to sit up, but then I saw the way his shoulders were curved in and a steady trickle of blood that stained the front of his tunic.
His head turned slowly to regard me when I entered, those red eyes narrowing on me.
I didn’t speak. Instead, I went to him. And maybe I wasn’t afraid because I didn’t care what happened to me anymore. All I knew was that…
All I knew was that when the horde king was captured, I’d gotten a chill up my spine. In that moment, everything in mescreamedthat we had changed something that wasn’t meant to be changed. That the horde king’s capture was not…it was notwritten. It should not have happened.
And now, I didn’t know what to do about it. He was here because of me. Maybe the others would have eventually figured out a way to bring him to the Dead Mountain. But ultimately, it had beenmeto lure him close enough to be taken.
Standing before him, I held up the basin of clean water. He turned his face away and I whispered, “Water. From the well.”
A muscle in his jaw jumped. His nostrils flared. But when I tipped the basin towards his mouth again, he drank from it. Slowly, I aided him, taking it away before he drained the whole thing.
Our eyes held as I set the basin next to his hand on the table. I caught movement there and saw that his tail was flicking, the tip tufted in dark, silky hair. When he saw me looking at it, it stilled immediately.
“Why are you here,sarkia?” came the rumbling question, and I worried that his deep voice would carry through the thick door and wake Taylor.
I placed my finger over my lips and his brow drew together. His head tilted towards the door but I remained quiet as I dropped the cloth into the basin. There wasn’t much water left but it would have to be enough, considering I didn’t want to chance waking Taylor if I returned to the well.
“Why are you here?” came the question, only his voice softened considerably and I had to lean close to hear it properly.
I looked down, moving the torch closer to him. Immediately, I saw the long horizontal wound across his chest. The sword had cut through his tunic, revealing golden, scarred, hardened flesh beneath.
I didn’t answer him. I squeezed the cloth and brought it to his chest.
My breath hitched when he snagged my wrist, his hand curling tight. My gaze flashed up to his.
