by Terina Adams
I slowly straightened in case I was assaulted again, but made it all the way without triggering a slide into the torment all over again.
Raclin placed a hand on my cheek and smiled an unfriendly smile. “That’s my girl. I knew you wouldn’t disappoint me. And you needn’t worry about the poison. It has already been taken from your body.”
32
The prince alone was waiting on his charger when I reappeared from the dead forest. He did not see me at first, for he was looking at the sky over the dead forest. As I looked at him, a loathing too great welled inside. He did not deserve to wear the handsome features of his brother. When he lost interest in the dark clouds and saw me, his face showed an instant of surprise before turning to a malicious smile.
“The sun has not risen halfway up the sky. How is it you could spend three days in the forest without any luck and now step foot within for just a few minutes and find your bounty?”
“Because I have not found my bounty.” I lifted my hands to show them empty.
His face remained unchanged from his quizzical expression. “Is that so?” He made a big display of dismounting, fluffing out his cloak behind him first, and came around to face me. “Do you love to be humiliated? Is that what it is? Maybe it’s the pain you desire.” He came closer still. “Tell me, Rya, do you like it when I whip you? Is that what makes your blood heat?”
“What would heat my blood is to see your corpse being dragged behind a galloping horse.”
The punch was so solid it knocked me sideways to the dirt before I could fathom where the pain had come from. I made no sound, no moan or cry as I lay on my side, nursing my jaw, which felt as though bones had been moved out of place.
His boots appeared in front of me, but I did not look up, so he crouched down. His face held an eerie calm that was more frightening than had his expression matched the stormy sky over the dead forest.
“I would whip you, here and now, until you had no skin left on your body, but that would be too easy on you.”
He ran a finger down the back of my arm. “Oh, no, my little whore, I have a much better plan for you. Since the beasts of the dead forest don’t even want you, I know the right people to take care of you.”
He stood and strode back to his horse. With him gone, I shuffled to sit, attempting to work my jaw, but the pain was too great. If I were lucky, the muscles were badly bruised. If not, then my jaw was broken.
Hunrus returned, a coil of rope wrapped around his fingers. He wrenched my hand from my jaw and the other from my lap and bound them together. Once done, he dragged me along the ground using the rope as the pull. I scurried to get my feet underneath me, but he wouldn’t let up his pace until he reached his horse. By then I had damp soil down my pants and a graze on my hip.
The torment relented when he stopped to get on his horse. I knew what would come, so I scrambled to my feet. At least I would not start the journey being pulled behind the horse, but if I was forced to make the whole journey running, at some point I would become the one whose corpse was dragged behind the horse.
Hunrus didn’t even bother to look at me as he held the rope in one hand and spurred his horse into a trot. I was jerked forward almost off my feet, but I staggered, then caught the rhythm. How long would I last?
The uneven ground made the jog jarring and already I was panting for breath. I stayed behind the horse’s rump out of Hunrus’s sight so he could not enjoy watching me run. The cart and soldiers appeared from out of the tree line and drew toward us. The prince slowed his charger to a walk when we neared the cart.
“Follow behind us. I will let you know when you’re needed.” Then he spurred his horse onward once again.
I could hear the creaking wheels as the cart trundled in behind us. By now I was jogging again, trying to keep pace so I would not be pulled off my feet and dragged, for I had no doubt the prince would not bother to stop for me. Soon after, I was panting and puffing again. At what point would my legs begin to ache, my gait become clumsy until I could no longer keep on my feet?
I stumbled over the uneven ground with sweat dripping down my brow as the sun baked my head and back. My throat was parched and my jaw still ached, but strangely enough, my legs felt strong. We must’ve been going for a while now, the prince keeping his horse at a trotting pace. I’d expected to have lost my rhythm and strength by now, but despite finding it difficult to navigate on the ruts and grooves with my hands tied, I felt like I’d been renewed. Instead of the gasping pants of a while ago, my breath held even, as did my heartbeat. It was a strange feeling for my body to be so calm and controlled despite my exertion.
The sun was overhead. Time had moved since I first left the dead forest. For the last mile or so, the prince had been looking over his shoulder at me, his face reflecting his annoyance at seeing me on my feet. Without warning, he reined his charger to a stop and I ran into the big animal’s rump and bounced off, staggering to the side to try and stay on my feet. The soldiers behind wrenched on the cart horses’ reins in an attempt to miss running into the prince’s horse as well.
Hunrus wheeled his horse around to face me, then yanked on the rope, sending me stumbling to the side. I tripped on a clod of ground and fell onto my behind.
“How is this possible?” he yelled at me through gritted teeth. “The sun is now high and yet you remain on your feet.”
I stayed on my bottom as down here I had no farther to fall if Hunrus decided to pull on the rope again. Perhaps this was the time I would be dragged behind his horse. But he surprised me by throwing the rope away.
“Put her in the cart,” he said with such venom.
Triggered by the fury lacing Hunrus’s command, one of the soldiers scrambled off his horse, hurrying to obey the prince. It was the same man who’d given me the blanket and food the night before. He was rough in his handling of me, pulling me up by my hands and dragging me to the back of the cart. He fumbled with the rope, attempting to undo the knot the prince had tied, but the rope had tightened with all the pulling that had been done.
“I don’t know what’s going on with you, miss, but this ain’t natural,” he mumbled as his fingers fidgeted. “That’s twice you’ve survived the dead forest. There are rumors back home. Some say you were seen outside the night of Hallow’s Eve and that the master returned you at dawn.” He stopped from bothering with the ropes and stared into my eyes. His beard covered half his face, but I could still read his expression by the look in his gray eyes. “No man I know can run so far and not be out of breath. You are graced with something unnatural.”
“What is taking you so long?” Hunrus yelled.
The soldier gave up with the rope and pushed me into the cart. “Get in and don’t make a bother. It is best the prince forget about you for the rest of the journey.”
“We travel through the night. I wish to be back by dawn,” Hunrus demanded.
The soldier’s scurrying back to his horse was the prince’s signal to continue forward. He did so at a fast pace, forcing the driving soldier to encourage the underfed cart horses to match it.
I shuffled myself as far as I could go to the back of the cart and leaned against the wooden cage, watching the darkness recede to the horizon. A woman could not run as far as I had and still feel good. My heart beat a comfortable rhythm. My legs felt relaxed, not stiff and sore. I touched the side of my face where Hunrus had punched me. Nothing hurt. I opened my mouth, stretching my jaw, and still nothing hurt. I had been renewed.
Maybe I had been graced with something unnatural.
We’d stopped at some point during the night to change cart horses and to water the prince’s and soldiers’ animals. The farmer had been disgruntled at the settled price and equally unhappy when he saw the state of the horses he was given. But seeing the prince climb down from his horse and approach the farmer quickly changed his argument to agreement.
Our party was given food and water, except me, which worried me little since I was not hungry, despite having las
t eaten the previous night. No time was spared after the prince had had his and we set out on our trail back to Railyon, Hunrus setting a fast pace.
I remembered little else after our stop, and when I woke, the sun was about to break across the horizon. I turned to watch our approach to the city gates. It seemed a lifetime ago I first arrived at the impressive towering walls to the city. Only this time they no longer looked so towering or so impressive. Today they looked oppressive.
The prince spurred his horse on ahead of us, so that when we reached the gate, he’d disappeared. The driving soldier took his time passing through, stopping to talk with the guards manning the gates. I could not hear their hushed conversation, but the occasional stares in my direction gave me little doubt as to whom they were speaking of. I turned away and watched the people on the streets begin their day. If only I could slip off the cart and disappear amongst the crowd and just become Rya the servant once more.
With the loud thunder of horses’ hooves, I looked back over my shoulder as two more soldiers galloped toward us, sending the people off the streets and the stray dogs into a frenzy of barking.
Ryhan was amongst the new arrivals. “She is to be taken to the king’s dungeon,” he said to the cart driver.
He nudged his horse to the back of the cart and looked at me. Then he yelled to one of the guards. “Take the rope off her hands.” He continued to look at me as the guard climbed on the cart.
The guard was a large man who bumped and jerked the cart about as he attempted to climb on board. He hulked toward me with clumsy, thumping feet, looking awkward in the small space. I sucked in a breath when the cold metal of the blade he’d pulled from his belt touched my skin. He slipped the blade under the rope, between my palms, and sliced through, releasing my binds. The guard spared me a quick glance and in that shy moment I saw a jumble of emotions, curiosity, apprehension perhaps and was there also fear?
He turned away before I could decide on his core emotion and thumped his way back off the cart, with a heavy grunt when he managed to climb down without falling on his behind.
Ryhan nudged his horse a few paces to the side of the cart so he was beside me. “It seems your death has not been written.”
I pushed to my feet and came to the side of the cart. “Tell me of Cer—the master.”
“I know little. He was taken to the marked fort. But I’ve heard rumors that he is alive.”
“Are you able to get a message to him?”
“From you? What would you have me say?”
“Just tell him I’m alive and unharmed.”
Ryhan dropped his gaze to his horse’s withers for a moment. “I would like to pass that message on, but…I am not sure how true it is.”
A heavy weight settled around the base of my heart. “It doesn’t matter. Please, can you make sure he gets the message?”
He gave me a nod after a moment’s hesitation, then turned his horse to go.
“Ryhan. Am I to spend my eternity in the king’s dungeons?”
Something passed over Ryhan’s face so quickly I couldn’t read it. “No, Rya. The prince has something else planned for you.”
33
I lay curled on my side, trying to keep the small amount of warmth my body could generate. I’d long ago ceased to smell the acrid odor of the dungeons or hear the moans and wails of the prisoners. My eyes had become accustomed to the darkness so that I was able to discern the fragments of shadow cast from the torch, which hung from a bracket farther down the passage and around a bend.
My boots had been stripped from me, as had my clothes, and I’d been given a simple shift that reached the floor and smelt of someone else’s death. It was from some lucky soul who’d been spared eternity in the dungeons by dying early in their incarceration, which meant the shift was good enough to pass on to someone else. The moment I put it on, my body began to itch.
Something touched my big toe as I lay on my side, and I kicked out as I shuffled up to sitting. In the dark, I spied a small creature scurrying across the floor. In the dim, only its sudden movement made it visible. I pushed back to rest against the rock wall with my chin on my knees. Rats would eat anything. They would eat a living human if you stayed still long enough to give them a chance.
This is not my fate. This is not my fate. I repeated the mantra over and over through my head to keep the dark and morbid thoughts at bay. It would be so easy to succumb to despair and fall prey to the wails and heartache that echoed through these desolate chambers. Ryhan had said this was not to be my eternity. I had to believe him.
I closed my eyes and focused harder on my mantra and trying to keep the torch in my heart alight. I was still alive. Many times I’d been taken to the doors of death and yet, as the soldier said, I had survived. I had been graced with the unnatural. I did not know what that meant. I still felt like the woman who’d been taken from her village chained on the back of a cart. I was still the woman Morick had loved. And I was still the woman Cerac loved. There was nothing special or amazing inside of me.
“’Ey.” A croaking weak voice came to me though the darkness.
I lifted my head. Had I even heard it?
“Girl,” the voice said again.
I crawled on my hands and knees across the stone floor in the direction of the voice. “Is someone there?” I said.
“Are you the girl?” the male voice said, then coughed and gasped for air.
“I am a girl, yes.”
With the lingering silence, I thought he had fallen asleep or lost interest in talking to me.
“Rumors…they say you defeated a ragool.”
I sighed and leaned myself against the bars. “They are only rumors. The only defeated ragool I’ve seen is one the captain killed.”
“The guards speak of a girl who walks at night on Hallow’s Eve.”
Hunrus had to have heard these rumors. A part of me rejoiced in knowing his fury once he realized it was his own hatred and jealousy that created them by sending me out that night.
“A girl who can walk through the dead forest and survive.”
“I am her, but it is by luck that I still live. I fear my luck is running out.”
“I hear the wonder in the guards’ voices when they speak of you.”
I leaned my head against the wall. “Believe me, there is no wonder. I’ve suffered much already.”
They were out, but no sooner had I said the words than I wanted to take them back. This was the dank darkness of the dungeons making me speak like this. The poor man sounded old and weak, and here I was talking about suffering.
“How long have you been here?”
“If I was able to see the sun every day, then I could count my days down here. But when there is nothing but darkness, the days and nights are one.”
“I shouldn’t have spoken as I did. I’m sorry, for I’m sure your suffering has been greater than mine.”
“I do not know what suffering is anymore. But I do know hope, because it has been forever since I’ve felt it.”
“Why would you feel hope?”
“The guards speak of the prince’s fury at this girl. He wants her dead, but she will not die. I dream that she will not die because she will be his death.”
I sucked in a breath. “That is not possible.”
“Neither is a girl who survives the dead forest.”
The hard smack of footsteps on the stone floor had me scurrying back to the far wall. I watched the dancing flames bring the men into sight along the walls before they came into view, two soldiers and the guard rattling his key ring. They stopped at my door.
“Show us,” one of the soldiers barked.
The guard held his torch high so the flame light reached the back of the cell. I shielded my eyes from the brightness.
“This is her,” the same soldier said. “Undo the lock.”
Still with my eyes shielded, I heard the clank and grind as the metal door was swung open.
“On your feet,” the other soldier
said. When I wasn’t quick enough, he grabbed my elbow and hauled me up. “I’ll not stay a minute longer than I have to down here,” he grumbled as he pushed me in front of him.
I wanted to say something to the old man who’d spoken to me, but the soldiers kept pushing me along and marching me down the passage as fast as they could. The steps up out of the dungeons were slippery. Wearing only bare feet, I slipped once or twice, making one of the soldiers swat at my head, then drag me up the stairs. At the top, the shaft of sunlight coming through the entrance at the end of the long passage hurt my eyes. I blinked but would not shield my eyes again, for I would never hide myself from the sun for the rest of my days.
Once outside, I gulped in the fresh air, driving out the putrid smell of decay and human waste.
“She is to be taken to the arena,” one soldier said to another two waiting outside on their horses.
Hearing that one word, my heart galloped a wild beat.
“Do we tie her hands?” the new soldier asked.
The soldier who’d taken me from the dungeons said, “She can run if she likes. The sport would entertain me.”
“Why am I being taken to the arena?”
The soldier leered at me. “The king’s whore is with child, and so the king is in celebration, for he believes it to be a boy, like every other time. The prince wishes to honor his father with a gladiatorial tournament.”
My heart ached for Cerac. If the king’s consort bore him a male, Cerac’s life was in danger. But surely the king would not risk Cerac’s life this soon in the pregnancy by making him defend his rank as master of the arena.