I’m an embarrassment to Tundrayn.
With a huff, I lean back against the tree and observe.
Sulon and one other soldier are earthwielders—Sulon summoned roots from the ground to secure the tents while the other grew some type of root vegetable within minutes. Three, I suspect, are nonwielders. Their tasks seem more menial compared to the others—sharpening weapons and cleaning armor.
The men speak in low voices around the fire, and I strain to listen.
“…Tundrayni…” Sulon whispers, but I can’t make out the rest. Tides drown them.
“…camp?” Zev responds, his voice low. He glances at me, as if he can sense my eyes. The bastards lower their voices further, and then it’s impossible to hear anything at all.
I don’t know how long I rest against the tree, but fatigue eventually overtakes me. I fight off sleep for as long as I can—I’m bound and surrounded by enemies, for Tide’s sake—but eventually I succumb.
Arough hand glides across my ankle, shoving up my leggings to skate along my bare skin. Sweaty fingers stroking my neck, yanking down my collar.
“Zev?” I mumble, trying to move.
I can’t.
A dark chuckle scrapes against my nerves.
“Zev? That’s cute.”
The camp is quiet. Too quiet. No hushed murmurs, no thudding boots. Not even the crackling of the fire.
My eyes snap open.
Sulon is hunched over me, hateful eyes glittering in the dark, one hand wrapped around my bare ankle, the other shoved down the front of my tunic.
Chapter Fifty-One
“Hello,Princess.Rememberme?”His voice is slimy, just like him. A cruel smile stretches across his lips as he gropes me. “Not so queenly now, are you?”
“Get off me,” I rasp, struggling to scramble away from him. He shoves me onto the cold ground, twigs and rocks digging into my back.
His meaty fist grips the collar of my tunic.
A sharprip. He tears it down to my navel, where my bound hands rest on my abdomen.
He buries his face in my neck and inhales, and Tides, I’m going to vomit. With all my might, I bring my knee up into his groin.
“Fuck,” he wheezes, pushing himself off.
A loud crack echoes through the silence as his palm connects with my cheek.
Pain explodes through every nerve. My face is on fire.
A warm drip. My nose is bleeding.
“On your feet,” he growls, glaring down at me.
“No.” I hate the tremble in my voice.
“On your feet,now.”
I ignore him, working my jaw. All my teeth seem to be intact.
With a low growl, Sulon grabs my arm. His grip is clammy and unyielding, like a dead thing pretending to be warm. I stumble as he hauls me to my feet, extending my bound arms for balance.
