“Finn!” Helga’s voice cuts through them like a knife. Avina takes advantage of the brief moment of hesitation from Finn to bite his arm, drawing blood.
“Cunt!” He swats at her face with the back of his hand.
She dodges and stumbles away in the long trousers. “Get away from me!” She shrieks.
Finn’s murderous gaze follows her as she falters into the forest's depths.
“Where are you going, Your Highness? Are you going to lose yourself in the forest?” Finn mocks her, but she refuses to let him shake her nerve.
She needs to escape. She would rather die in the woods than be demeaned any longer.
A glint of metal catches her eye in the form of a sword dangling off the saddle of one of the horses. Without thinking, she grips the hilt and pulls, wielding a short sword with both hands.
“I will not be joining you,” She growls as her body shudders against the cool air.
Helga steps forward with her axe drawn. In three long strides, she stands glaring down at her.
“You are the property of Prince Sigvid. He now controls your fate.”
“IamQueen Avina of the Timber Province and rightful ruler of the Ridge. You will address me as Your Highness or Your Majesty.”
Helga’s hand whips through the air, but Avina blocks the slap with her blade.
“Dammit!” Helga grips her bleeding hand. “You bitch.” Droplets of red dribble onto the colorful fallen leaves at their feet.
“No one ever taught her respect.” Finn approaches her with a grin that raises all of the hairs on Avina’s body.
She glances over her shoulder, considering risking her chances in the safety of the trees.
“Don’t think about it, Majesty.” Finn leaps toward her with his sword pointed in her direction. She panics and swings erratically.
Unfortunately, he is faster and disarms her with barely a flick of his wrist.
Her sword flies from her hands, landing in the growing snow. The brief moment of her gaze following the discarded weapon is all Finn needs.
“Get off of me.” She snarls, kicking and scratching as her front collides with the crunchy leaves, his knees digging into the center of her back.
“Rope, Helga!” He barks.
Avina watches from the ground as Helga’s booted feet run back to the horses and dig in one of the packs. She returns and tosses the length to Finn.
He twists the scratchy rope beneath her breasts and pulls it tight, folding her arms so they are against her back.
“I will make this hurt. I have waited a long time to kill you,Your Highness.”
He ties the remaining rope so her ankles connect to her folded arms. The bend forces her body in half and makes her muscles burn. Her thick, squishier body is a far cry from pliable. The exposed position is vulnerable and humiliating.
“You won’t get away with this! Sigvid will kill,” he hesitates far too long searching for a word, “will surely protect me.” Avina attempts to capitalize on the seemingly collective fear of their Prince. However, the delivery of her words holds limp conviction. The sense of worthlessness that envelopes and drowns her in a sea of hopelessness fills her tone with bitter anguish.
Finn catches her weakness and pauses his tying. “Well, well, well. I couldn’t have asked for a better turn of events.”
Avina fights vainly against the bindings.
“How do you feel about the Lord Commander, Timber Queen? The man who has fated you to an almost certain brutal death.” He asks as Helga kneels beside him.
She can’t deny a budding desire for the man who seems to hold only eyes for her. Somehow, all her dreams and freedoms are tied to his actions.
Avina’s eyes burn with unshed tears as the uncomfortable bindings and stress of the day boil over.
