“Aya, it was a joke,” Flint called, trying to sit up. The moment he stood he lost his balance, catching himself on the side of the barge. “My chest is burning,” he admitted, taking a shallow breath, and winced.
Darric approached the barge. “It’s probably a cracked rib, but whether Aya or the fall caused it is up for debate. We’ll lay him in the bow. He’ll be fine by the time we reach Burge.” He leaned onto the hull and spoke directly to Flint. “I hope you’re proud of yourself.”
“So worried I was dead. Now so pissed,” Flint grumbled, rubbing his tongue over his newly chipped tooth. “Admit it, Darric, if somethin’ truly happened to me, you’d miss me.”
“If you ever do something that stupid again just for a laugh, then I’m going to give myself the opportunity to find out,” Darric berated. “Lucky for you that broken rib is going to be an ample punishment. Have fun trying to breathe over the next couple weeks. Maybe you’ll find some fucking humor in that.”
Flint groaned and whined as his brothers helped him into the barge.
Darric grabbed my waist and lifted me over the hull. I’d never been on a boat. Luken used to tell me stories of the Duvali fishing ships that lined the coast, but I suspected this barge paled in comparison.
I curiously looked around and finally asked, “Where is everything?”
“Inside the hull, below the floor,” Darric answered. “Illegal cargo, remember?”
“That’s amazingly brilliant.” I stared at the deck, searching for signs of the stash, but there was no indication of anything.
Bromly removed a loose board to pull necessary supplies from under the floor: a metal frame that would hold a small fire above the wood planking, several pillows, and cotton blankets. Darric nailed linen to the top of the four-foot-tall mast and draped it over the bow, creating a tent that offered some privacy and a place to sleep. Once the floor inside the tent was covered with bedding, Flint curled into the soft pillows.
I leaned into the railing and waited as Darric and Bromly jumped onto the bank and untied the rope holding the barge to the shore. They gave the boat a huge shove and reboarded as it floated into deeper water.
Bromly relaxed on the floor, adding cut logs to the metal frame. Darric took the tiller and steered the barge towards the river. The vessel moved into the endless string of blue cutting through the lush mountain forest, taking me farther away from home than I’d ever been.
I smiled with excitement and glanced back at my stranger. He returned my joy with a wry smirk, and his beautiful steel-blue eyes gripped tighter around my falling heart.
“Aya.” I wrapped my hands around this tiny woman’s shoulders. She was exquisite and cared for, even if she was dirty from days of travel. Her puffy bottom lip was split but still a supple pink in color.
Her eyes rolled back into her heart-shaped face, and I shook her, hard. She went limp, melting into Darric’s arms. “Aya!” I shouted. “Did they make you drink anything? Aya! Answer me! Damn it, Darric!” I released my grip and took a handful of Darric’s shirt. “How could you do this?” This was heinous, even for him. My younger brother offered a quick end; he never let people suffer. It appalled him.
Darric stared at her wasting frame, cradling her in his arms like the most precious object he’d ever held. “I couldn’t leave her there.”
I blinked furiously, trying to comprehend the surreal way he looked at her. I had never seen him look at any woman as if he needed her. As if permanent anguish would consume him if she died in his arms in the middle of the cavern floor.
“We need to get her into the house,” I said. For everyone’s sake, I had to calm down and ignore the oddity of Darric’s actions until we stabilized her.
Flint’s neurotic green eyes darted in a mix of confusion and excitement.
Darric ran his arm under the girl’s knees and lifted her from the ground, nothing but a light corpse of dead weight. The color was quickly vanishing from her face, creating a ghostlike haze over her skin. She was reacting to the poison at an astonishing rate. If we didn’t work fast, she would be dead before nightfall.
I pulled the front door aside for Darric.
“Put her in my room!” Flint bounced eagerly, exuding astounding ignorance. This beautiful creature was dying, and he cared only to celebrate her arrival.
“Your room is decrepit. Darric doesn’t sleep. She’ll go in his,” I blurted.
Darric had the same idea. He quickly moved to his room, his travel companion squeezed to his chest. He lowered her onto the mattress and laid two fingers on her neck, looking for a pulse. “Bromly, I need you to brew tea. It will help detox her.”
“How ya gonna get her to drink it?” Flint asked, blocking the doorway.
I shuffled through the baskets above the workbench looking for tea bags, knocking over cups and spoons until I found five—critical for a strong dose. “Flint,” I called as he lustfully gazed at our half-dead visitor.
“She’s gorgeous,” he said, ignoring me.
“Flint!” I yelled, snatching the kettle from under the table. “I need more water. This won’t be enough.” I emptied the remainder of the bucket into the pot.
“You go get it,” he said and immersed himself back in the girl.
Darric busily unlaced her shoes and let the small boots fall to the floor; they would have fit a child.
“What ’bout her dress? We should take that off too,” Flint suggested, his desirous eyes tripping over the girl’s body. “I’ll help.”
“Go get the fucking water!” Darric roared. My heart rate spiked. I hated when he used that malevolent tone; in all these years I’d never become used to it.
Flint backed out of the doorframe with a huff. In no particular hurry, he snatched the bucket and disappeared from the Hovel.
I sank the kettle into the coals and dropped in the tea bags. The sparse water quickly began to simmer. “Tea’s on,” I announced and joined Darric in his room.
The girl had turned lily white except for the delicate skin around her eyes, which was a dark, morbid gray. Her unnaturally long almond curls were strewn across the bedding. No denying it; even in the first stage of death, she maintained every ounce of the unmeasurable beauty she’d held in life, from her thick lashes to her fading lips. My thoughts went to Hazel and what she would think upon learning a woman had stayed at the Hovel. “Do you need anything else? Your pack?”
Darric shook his head and leaned into the bed.
“It might be the wrong time to ask, but what the hell possessed you to bring some poisoned bandit girl here?”
He hung his head and squeezed the bridge of his nose. “I had the most colossal lapse of judgment of my entire life. I’m not ready to explain it to you.”
“Brilliant.” I groaned. “So, now what?”
“I haven’t thought that far. I truthfully thought she would be dead before we arrived. I even tried sleeping in hopes I could end her with a sword so she wouldn’t have to suffer the poison.”
“That is sick.” My upper lip quivered in disgust. “She has as good a chance of living as she does dying.”
He squeezed his eyes shut, as if thinking of her dead caused him physical pain. “Are you going to berate me? Try to make me feel worse than I already do?”
“No, you’ll be hard enough on yourself. I just hope you know what you’re doing.”
Darric moved her skirt to expose her bare ankles. From under the pillow, he removed a dagger in a luxurious black scabbard. He loosely wrapped the supple leather fastenings around her ankle, making sure not to cut off circulation.
“She’s armed?” I questioned.
“She’s armed,” he repeated, bewildered, “. . . with a Hell Squad dagger from the Alpha’s stock. It’s identical to the one I used.”
“How the fuck did she get that?” I asked, stunned.
He tugged the bottom of her dress over her feet and brought the fur covers up to her knees. “I don’t know. Onyx Guard weapons are impossible for citizens to o
btain. And the Alpha’s stock is under lock and key.” He squatted onto the balls of his feet and leaned his forearms onto the bed. “I’m in over my head this time. If this girl wakes up . . . I don’t know what we are going to do. Everything will change.”
“I wish you wouldn’t do this right now—the cryptic hinting when you want to express what’s on your mind but can’t bring yourself to say it.”
“I’m not expecting her to survive, but if she does, I’ll need you to understand something.” He lifted his eyes and looked over her face. “The day will come when I’ll have to explain why I did this, and I need you to attempt to not be furious with me. Before you ask one hundred questions, just know, I won’t be able to kill her like the others who have wandered here.”
“So, she’s staying?” I asked, amazed.
“She is staying,” he murmured, “but I’ll deny it.”
I groaned. Her chest slowly rose and fell, long deep breaths that fought for life. “How long has she been with you?”
He slid away from the bed and propped himself against the wall. “A couple days. I don’t know much about her. I didn’t bother.” He scoffed. “I wouldn’t be in this mess if Flint didn’t keep insisting I stop for the damn dried pork.”
“I’ve got the water!” Flint burst into the Hovel. He dropped the bucket by the doorway, sloshing water onto the floor, and almost tripped over the fire. “She’s still alive, right? Did I miss anythin’?” He shoved me out of the way to get a better look inside Darric’s room.
I sighed and tended to the tea. When the first dose was ready, I filled a cup and blew vigorously over the liquid before bringing it into the bedroom. Darric slid his hand under Aya’s head, lifted the dead weight, and poured a small amount into her mouth. Setting the cup on the nightstand, he massaged her neck until the medicinal brew eased down her throat.
It was time consuming and tedious, but Darric worked late into the night, refusing to leave her side. Eventually, Flint fell asleep on the floor. I threw him over my shoulder and dumped him on his bed to give Darric some peace from prying eyes, then slunk to my room and lay on top of the covers, staring at the dark ceiling.
Darric had never been one to care about rules or regulations. He lived by his own creed. But bringing a girl to the Hovel after she’d failed to adhere to her fate broke the rules he’d set for all of us.
When the sun rose over the valley and the Hovel quieted into a ringing silence, I caught the last private murmurs of his distraught state. He incoherently mumbled to himself, reeling in anguish that she was going to die.
In the past, I’d witnessed him kill without mercy, carefully concealing his emotions under the thick blanket of secrecy he’d learned from the Onyx Guard. He never mourned. Never wavered in his steel strength. But the pain he displayed over this girl made him seem broken. Who was she?
Lost in his turmoil, he didn’t notice me creeping around the doorframe. He ran a finger over her icy hand, analyzing her like a beautiful unsolvable puzzle. She took a deep breath, stronger than the last, and seemed to benefit from his touch.
“Don’t die,” he whispered, taking her hand in his and dipping his forehead to rest it upon their interlocked fingers. I took a step back but couldn’t pull myself away. “You can’t die. Please, hold on. Minutes at a time if you can.” His lips brushed one of the many lacerations marring her delicate skin. “Are you already going to force me to live without you? Please, stay with me.”
My jaw fell.
I dropped onto my bed and rubbed my hands into my beard, then massaged my ears to ensure they were working properly. I must have misheard him. There was no other logical explanation. The concept of Darric Ursygh falling in love . . . well, that was as impossible as the closure of the Riving.
***
For information on upcoming releases visit www.AnnaPatrickPaige.com
About the Author
Anna Patrick Paige is a Florida native with a love for fairy tales and dark romances filled with lust, gore, and unconventional heroes. With a passion for literature from an early age, she wrote her first full length novel as a teenager and has been writing ever since. When she is not creating new worlds, or reading about them, Anna donates her time and energy to wildlife rehabilitation, conservation, and education.
For information on upcoming releases visit
www.AnnaPatrickPaige.com
or follow on social media.
www.facebook.com/annapatrickpaigebooks
www.facebook.com/groups/theGlitterandGoreBasement
Instagram @Anna Patrick Paige
Twitter @annapatpaige
Dreams of the Fae: Transcendence Page 42