by Rebecca Grey
Ryker paused at a junction in the hall, her voice carrying. “Those who need medical attention can travel down this hall to the infirmary. We will do what we can, with what we have, to help them. Anyone else who would like to find a bed to rest in can go that direction,” she pointed down the opposing hall. “You’ll find many unoccupied rooms that you may claim as your own. If you're hungry, you can continue straight to the dining hall and we can get you fixed up there as well.”
Nymphs shuffled past us, deciding what they needed the most and followed the directions down the subsequent halls. Ryker watched them quietly as they moved forward, smiling at those who offered their thanks and ruffling the hair of a child that pressed against her in a quick run-by hug.
Once everyone had hobbled away, the two of us still remained in the hall. Ryker turned her pointed gaze to me, “You look like shit.”
I brushed at the dirt on my shirt, “How sweet of you to notice.” My fingers buzzed with the need to touch her again. I slipped them into my pockets to keep them from moving of their own accord.
“You can come with me,” she finally amended, and turned to walk back the way we had come.
I followed her through the broken-down hallways, taking a few turns before she pushed open a door and walked into the room. Even dismantled, it was clear what the room had been used for, and what it was being used for now as well. Books that had at some point been pulled off the shelves, had their pages stuffed back in and were sloppily placed back where they belong against the wall. A large desk, propped up by more books to make up for a broken leg, was mended where it had been split down the middle, with a board and nails. All three chairs arranged before and behind it had been sliced open and sewn shut again. Ganglin’s office.
Ryker had her own maps spread out over the available surface. Random weapons sat on the papers like very expensive paperweights. She pointed to one of the seats.
“Please, rest,” she whispered, and reached for my bag. When she noticed my wandering eye she continued, “He is a terrible being, but surprisingly has good taste. I couldn’t let all this stuff go totally to waste.”
She had a point.
I groaned as I shrugged off the backpack, then hissed as the bag brushed my lower back. A long strip of skin felt excessively tight, like I might rip it open if I moved too quickly. A spot I hadn’t noticed before.
“You’re injured?” She let the bag drop to the floor with a thud. It toppled over, items rolling out beside us.
“No, I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not. Let me see.” She pushed aside my hand where I gripped the bottom of my shirt and peeled the material off my skin.
I bit my lip to keep from growling at the pain, placed both hands against the desk, and leaned into it. The sweat that had cooled when we entered the castle was replaced by a new sheen and my head spun. I nearly jumped as one of her calloused fingers traced the healing wound.
The blood on my shirt hadn’t been noticeable since I had changed into the oversized maroon shirt Shavarra had in her closet. I hadn’t even realized I had the wound until long after the attack had taken place. How was I to know how I even received it?
It hurt like hell, but the thought of losing Shavarra had hurt worse. So I pushed through it. My noble fae blood had done enough to heal the majority of it.
“You should see the healer,” she said again, her finger pressed against it.
I reached back and pulled her hand away. “I said I’m fine.”
“Okay,” Ryker deadpanned.
“I just need a shower and I’ll be fixed up good enough. Maybe a meal and a nap wouldn’t hurt.”
“I agree.” She sat against the desk and watched me fall into the seat in front of her. “What happened, Dace?”
I shuddered a breath. If I thought too hard the memories of everything came back in painful flashes. Fae guards rushing nymphs. Arrows flying. Fire burning their home to the ground. My mother and her booming voice. My father and his disappointment. The long dirt path that brought us here. The explosion that had left Shavarra limp in my arms.
“I lost everything,” I whispered into my palm as I leaned into my hand. My gaze traveled to the debris-covered floorboards. “My ass-hat of a friend discovered the refuge. He ratted me out to my parents. They attacked the refuge. Burned it to the ground.”
I looked up as Ryker sucked in a breath and continued, “They revoked my crown. Shavarra sent someone to find me and…” I trailed off, not wanting to admit the terrible state I had been in that bar. “We took everyone that made it out and brought them here. We lost a few in the ambush that happened in the Acture Court.”
“Windre’s men?” she asked, taken aback.
“No, no, these were definitely men from the Twinity Court.”
“Wow, you must have really pissed your parents off for it to be that bad.” She tried to keep her face neutral, I think she really did. But the hint of a smile still graced her lips. “Come, let me show you to your room, and bring you some food, and you can tell me on the way.”
“Can’t go against what has been foretold,” I said as I leaned forward slowly, to avoid passing out in pain, and stood. I followed her, continuing when she gave me a questioning look, “They believe that what you see in your dreams is what is meant to be. That you should do everything in your power to make sure that dream comes to fruition as the gods have demanded.”
“But you don’t believe that?” Ryker stepped out into the hall, walking a different direction than the one she had pointed the survivors of the refuge in.
“No.”
Ryker dipped her head in a small nod. She looked up at the ceiling in thought, as if the climbing green vines held the answer to her impending question. “Why is that?” she finally said, her eyes narrowed on me as if she was trying to figure me out.
At what point was it appropriate to tell a woman you’ve dreamed of her for nearly one hundred years?
I fisted my hands inside my pockets until my knuckles became white. Light shone through the cracks between the boards that covered the broken windows in the halls beside her. The light framed her face and gave her an angelic hue. But her expression was anything but angelic. It was determined and savage. Part of my chest became tight with overwhelming joy at how much the look reminded me of the girl I fell in love with every night. This was really her.
“Because I saw the Day of Ruin coming. Because I still saved as many nymphs as I could without being noticed, despite seeing every single one of them being taken into enslavement. And you know what?” I shrugged my shoulders and nudged her with my elbow as we came to a stop outside a door.
“What?” she whispered.
“Nothing bad came of it.” I sighed, long and slow. “Until now.”
Ryker chewed her lip. An absent motion that caught my eye. The white of her teeth dug into the pink flesh of her lip, raking over it slowly, until her plump lip was untouched once more. I tried to breathe through the desire to kiss her, choosing to slip my hands behind my back instead.
As my attention traveled back to her gaze, I found her staring at me, examining my face again. Damn, had I been caught?
She swallowed. Her hand caught on the doorknob and she opened the door with a forced smile. “I know this isn’t the room you stayed in, someone already claimed it, but hopefully it will do.”
I tossed a half hearted glance at the room. Medium sized bedroom, fluffy bedding, a bathroom, and a couple of broken windows. She could have shoved me into a broom closet and called it my bedroom and I would have happily cuddled with the hard end of the mop.
“It’s perfect. One question though,” I held up my pointer finger. “Where is your room? You know if I need to find you to… ask more questions... Or if I think of some other sort of important information?”
She hid a cough behind her fist as she cleared her throat and pointed with the other hand. I followed the imaginary line from her finger to the door she pointed at, just three doors down on the left.
> “And Daethian is across the hall from me if you ever need him,” she added.
Why would I need the boyfriend/not boyfriend? It was a battle not to roll my eyes. So instead, I took a step into my room.
“Lay down, someone will be back with food for you. Hopefully a healer as well, if she isn’t too caught up with all the people already crammed in there. On second thought, I better go and check on her myself,” she bowed slightly, reaching for the door handle.
“Ryker?” I asked, stopping her in the doorway.
“Yes?”
“I, uh, I tried to save you, too. On more than one occasion I wanted to come to the Heathern Court and bring you back to the refuge. But my dad always managed to stop me,” I frowned, waiting to see what my confession might cause her to do.
My father had always dreamed about me. Every wrong was always reprimanded and corrected because of what he saw. And somehow he always saw himself stopping me from rescuing Ryker.
Part of me expected Ryker to be mad that I never saved her. She should be angry about every year she lived in this hell hole, being punished day after day for the smallest of offenses. But she chewed her lip, trying to disguise her growing delight.
“You’ve already saved me, Dace,” she said quietly, flashing me the smallest of smiles before the door clicked shut behind her.
SIX
Ryker
The halls of the castle were busier than ever. Nymphs took full advantage of every resource that this location could offer and every activity they had long been deprived. And I mean every activity.
Good food was being eaten. Yes, lots of delicious food was being consumed at all hours, as the kitchen was rarely closed. Training was strengthening us, and we took turns pushing our powers to their limits in the long valley to the side of the main courtyard. And parties, lots of parties were being thrown. I had yet to attend, but I could still hear the music in passing, often catching glimpses of the small crowd of people that would gather in someone's bedroom as they danced in a small mob.
Then there was the sex. Loud moaning surprised you when you turned the corner and found two, or more, people intertwined.
Everything had been so strict for so long that it seemed no one felt the need to abide by almost any rule. Not that I had set any, but you would think common decency would. Ever since I was a child, my parents had taught me about the seriousness of choosing your mate. Every intimate action with someone would leave their scent on your skin in some way, shape, or form. Like the bite the tamer had left on my neck. But that was fading even now.
The scent of arousal and the heightened aura of consensual sex left the entire building reeking of sweat and orgies. These nymphs didn’t care if they smelled like one, two, or three other lovers.
I saw the appeal, I really did. Sometimes I caught the perfume of lust that hung heavy like a morning fog in the air, or heard someone cry out in pleasure, and it struck me right in the gut. And by gut, I mean vagina. Mother, this place was quickly becoming some sort of brothel and I wanted to sell my virginity to the highest bidder.
But I wouldn’t. These people kept looking to me for guidance. I couldn’t be one to frolic around carelessly. My leadership was what was holding them steady. Freedom, with a dash of revenge.
Sometimes it was a welcome distraction. My mind still back-tracked over everything that had happened in such a short time. Hattie was still missing. Ganglin was still missing.
Squeezing my eyes closed, I walked by a room with the door cracked open, revealing two very eager bodies pressed together, on my way to my own private space. The shortsword that I fancied when training bounced against my skin with every step. My love for this weapon had grown on me, I clung to it even when I wasn’t out on the field, just so I could be sure that no one else could claim it.
I hadn’t a clue who it had belonged to, or if it was Ganglin himself who had owned it, but it was mine now. A large red jewel glittered on the bottom of the hilt, winking at me in the light. My hand often floated to my hip to rest against it, as I had seen Dace do on more than one occasion with his daggers.
My gaze traveled down to Dace’s door. I hadn’t seen him emerge from his room yet, though I was assured by the healer that he was doing well. At night I prayed that Mother Nature would bless Suzetta, our most gifted healer. She was a natural, even after all these years, and she had accepted the task of tending to all of the nymphs from the refuge with grace. I sighed, turning as I heard a door open and my name called behind me.
“Ryker?” Daethian smiled, slipping from his room and closing the distance between us.
I looked up at him, waiting expectantly. We hadn’t seen a lot of each other in the past couple of days. Just the passing hello and goodbye. Though we always ended up sparring together if we found each other down in the valley.
“Want to grab something to eat? I could use a good conversation. Randsin has been like talking to a brick wall.” He casually placed his hands on his lean hips, giving me his famous half smile and showing off the dimple in his cheek.
I hadn’t caught Daethian’s scent on any of the females here, and there weren't any lingering smells on him now. Part of me melted with relief. He stiffened when a particularly pleased moan carried down the hall.
My attention darted back to Dace’s door. A split second thought to double-check that the sound hadn't been coming from his room either. Daethian followed my gaze.
“Uh, I don’t know, Daethian,” I hedged. I kind of just wanted to crash for the night. “How is Randsin doing? Healing nicely?”
He chuckled dryly, “He is okay, though he won’t tell me what all his tattoos are from, or what they mean. Even stole one of my shirts to cover himself up so I couldn’t look at them anymore.”
I lifted my hand to scratch the back of my head, the gesture never fully making it. Daethian reached for my hand, interlacing his fingers with mine, and took one step down the hall.
“Ah, come on Ryker. It won't hurt to let loose for one night.”
He tugged me another step forward. My feet dragged against the stone floor slowly. I tried to smile back, but my body still screamed with the need to be touched, and Daethian’s hand held mine so tight that it scattered my thoughts. Something like that between me and him could ruin our relationship.
“No, no,” I amended, trying to slip out of his grip.
He had turned away to face the direction he meant to take me down the hall. His body froze, his hold on me tightening so quickly that my hand screamed in pain, like he was about to crush it. Angrily, I ripped my hand away from him with a shout.
“Daethian, what the hell is wrong with you? That hurt!” I cradled my hand to my chest and flexed my fingers up and down to make sure they hadn’t broken.
His boots squeaked against the stone as he swiveled to face me. Everything in his gaze was focused and tense. His normally caramel-brown eyes looked near black, as if someone had spilled ink inside his irises and left them cloudy and dark.
“Daethian?” I mumbled, stepping closer and touching his cheek with my palm. “Are you okay?”
He blinked, his eyes returning to their normal light-brown in the light again. It must have just been a figment of my imagination I tell myself, as Daethian laughs quietly and presses a kiss into my hand.
“Sorry, I guess I still don’t know my own strength yet. Go ahead and enjoy a night to yourself. We can catch up tomorrow.”
“That sounds lovely,” I say slowly, not quite sure I believe him. Maybe I’ll mention something to Suzetta.
Daethian’s throat bobbed. He turned back the way he had wanted us to go, raising both hands to scrub at his face before they ran through his hair, leaving me to stand outside my room, confused. That had been an odd encounter. Maybe I needed more rest than I was letting myself have.
Stepping into my room, I pulled the door closed behind me and leaned against it. There were still a few hours of sunlight left, so it felt silly to go straight to bed. My gaze traveled over my room. I hadn�
��t changed much since I had begun my stay here. Maybe I should make it my own? The room was a little too glitzy for my taste, a little too bold. It needed to be beautiful, but humble. This room was not humble at all.
I looked over the framed images of gowns that were in the planning stages, waiting to be made. Thick bolts of fabric were still stacked together by a desk that held pin cushions dotted with needles. Then my attention fell on the wardrobe. Fancy dresses ranging from floor-length to mid-thigh, voluminous to body-hugging, and overstated rhinestone-covered to understated satin. Maybe I should just try one on. It couldn’t hurt to have just a little bit of fun. And I was in my room where no one could see me so…
Racing to the closet, I flung open the doors. Materials of all different colors burst out from their restraints like they had been stuffed in there for far too long. Emerald, mauve, lemon-yellow, jade, lavender, onyx, and indigo, so many colors to choose from, and the choice was all mine.
Gently, I lifted a hanger off the rod, pulling down a daring red dress. This dress was certainly not humble and it was something I would never set foot in public in. Light bounced off the crystal pendants that hung off of every inch of the material, they chimed together like the gentle sound of soft rainfall.
The sleeveless top covered only the smallest amount of skin before the neckline dipped so low it had to be near where one would imagine someone’s belly button was. The back of the dress was simple enough with just a zipper to get in and out of the garment. There wasn’t enough material for it to be one of those poofy, old-fashioned gowns, and the ruching at the sides gave me the impression that it clung relatively close to the body.
I pressed my lips together. My cheeks hurt from excessive smiling. With a small, giddy squeal I set the dress down and ripped off the plain clothes I had been wearing to train in, kicking them to the side. The zipper of the dress split open smoothly. Inside the gown, buttery fabric caressed my legs and I pulled it against me.