‘Now you won’t attempt to escape again.’
‘I wasn’t escaping. I simply wanted to be gone from you.’
‘Surprise, surprise, Avery, but I don’t trust you.’
‘You can’t do this!’ he hissed, trying pointlessly to untie the knot.
‘Why not?’
‘It’s inhumane!’
I shot him a look. ‘You’re a prisoner. I need a way to keep you in line – otherwise you could disappear while I’m asleep.’ While he scowled, I repacked the knives and flint into the supply container, and then curled my body around it to go to sleep – any movement and I’d wake immediately.
I was just drifting off when Avery tugged abruptly on the rope, jerking me awake. ‘What?’
‘Nothing.’
I swore angrily. ‘You keep rubbing me the wrong way and you know what you’ll get.’
He didn’t say anything, but I got the feeling he was very smug. I waited a few minutes then tugged the rope roughly, making him sprawl against me. I sniggered as he recoiled away, and was rewarded with a foot jammed into my thigh. It went dead instantly and I roared in pain.
‘You little …!’ I grabbed him and shook him hard – he flailed around like a rag doll until I threw him violently to the ground. ‘Go to sleep,’ I ordered, leniently, as he pulled himself to his knees and wiped the blood from his face. There was a deep graze where his cheek had scraped against the dirt, and fire in his eyes as he gazed defiantly back at me. I sighed, shaking my head.
‘Don’t you get it?’ I asked softly. ‘The more you fight, the more you harm yourself. I’m only going to get more violent. I don’t want to be tied to you either, but it’s just the way it has to be, so give up.’
Apparently ‘give up’ was the wrong thing to say. Slowly, and very pointedly, Avery took the rope and tugged it so hard that it bit into the skin around my wrist. I was at my wits’ end. His determination was admirable, but his foolish arrogance was incredibly annoying, and I hadn’t got where I was today by being soft. I stood up and pushed him to the ground, and then kicked him in the ribs, just once – not hard enough to break anything, but hard enough that it would hurt to bloody hell and back.
Avery gasped – a tiny sound that escaped his lungs. He stayed silent after that one, surprisingly vulnerable noise. I slumped to the ground, angry at him for making me do it. I’d fought and killed men bigger and stronger than me and had no problem with it, but there was something sickening about hurting a boy his age and size.
‘Ambrose,’ Avery said softly through the darkness.
‘What?’
‘When you run out of those who are smaller than you, will you attack those who are larger, or will that frighten you too much?’
Avery’s words ran around in my head, lighting up the spaces I always kept in the dark, all the things I’d made sure to lock away under the surface. Cold snow under my back, drenched with red. His arm beneath my neck, so big I fit into the crook of his body as if he were cradling me there. I stared up at the stars in the sky, remembering too much. He made me ache, this boy lying next to me, because he was like a mirror that reflected all the worst parts of myself.
Chapter 4
Thorne
‘Quickly,’ I ordered with a bark, not waiting to see if she was keeping up. Her scent made me angry – but it also made me hungry in a primal, beastly way. Swallowing, I tried to rid myself of the desire – it wasn’t right that a woman could rule the way my body worked. Between Roselyn and my beast, I had next to no control over myself, and sometimes it infuriated me. My footsteps echoed loudly as I led my wife down the stone steps to the training courtyard.
Ravens circled through the grey sky above. It was a cold morning, despite the season, and my boots crunched over the frosted ground. The only region of Pirenti that ever climbed in temperature during summer was Yurtt, and that was because it was so far south. I smiled to myself, thinking of the region that had once belonged to Kaya – thinking of how I had conquered the land by making it flow with blood. One day I would conquer all of Kaya, and place the entire world at my mother’s feet.
My eyes went straight to Vincent where he waited in the middle of the yard. He was on the smaller side for a Pirenti man, and his eyes were an unnatural shade of black. I heard Rose stop behind me, not wanting to draw too close to him.
‘I’ll need you for the morning,’ I told my mother’s guard.
‘And the Queen?’
‘Can take it up with me if she has a problem with it.’
Vincent smiled the smile I hated – it dripped with smugness. ‘As you wish. How may I serve Your Majesty?’ My title on his lips sounded mocking, and were he not my mother’s personal bodyguard, I’d have had him sent to the prison isle for his disrespect long ago.
‘My wife,’ I said instead, ‘has a cowardly fear of water and I want it done with. You will fix her for me.’
Vincent’s eyes narrowed in interest, and his gaze flicked over towards Roselyn, who cowered by the pillar.
‘Come here,’ I told her. Her footsteps were tiny as she made her way to my side, keeping behind my large frame.
‘How exactly do you believe I will “fix” her?’ Vincent asked, his eyes glued to Rose. He had a slimy voice that was edged with a lisp, and I didn’t like the way his gaze sought out a person’s weakness before anything else.
My lip curled in distaste. ‘Your foul black magic.’
‘You hate my power, Prince,’ he pointed out. ‘You have since the day you came back from the mountain. I am surprised you would consent to its use on your very own wife.’
‘Can you take her fear or not?’
His head tilted to the side and he surveyed Rose. ‘I manipulate fear. I do not erase it.’
A frustrated snarl left me.
‘Fear is a funny thing,’ he went on more softly. ‘The only way to gain power over it is to change your perception of it. If a trauma occurs, it can change the patterns of a mind, and the only way to turn them back is to go through the same trauma again and come out of it differently.’
I had no damn idea what he was talking about, and I was starting to lose my patience.
Vincent moved towards Rose and reached out a finger to run down the length of her arm. She flinched in repulsion and I shoved him away.
‘You don’t touch her,’ I snapped.
‘If you want me to help her, I may have to.’ Unbothered by my anger, he moved towards my wife again. This time he addressed her directly, ‘Why are you frightened of water, my sweet?’
Rose didn’t reply. I watched her terrified eyes.
‘Can you not figure it out yourself?’ I asked.
‘I already know the answer,’ he shrugged with that same, discomforting smile. This was the only man I had ever met who made me truly uncomfortable. It was probably because he was the only man I wasn’t allowed to kill. Or perhaps it was because he saw far, far too much with those black eyes of his.
Vincent had been born in the prison on the isle, to a criminal who died during his birth. The conception of a prison guard’s rape, Ma had come across him there as a young boy and brought him home to the fortress. He’d been declared her personal bodyguard, even at such a young age, because it soon became clear that he had a dark and unfathomable power – the power to know a man’s fear, and manipulate it to his will. I hated him almost as much as I hated the Kayan warders.
‘Then why question her?’
Vincent and Roselyn were locked in some sort of trance, and neither answered me. While I watched helplessly, Rose let out a gut-wrenching scream and sank to her knees. Her hands latched onto the ground and she started to scrabble for purchase, as though she were sinking or slipping. Wild sobs left her, choked things without any air, and her fear around me was palpable.
My beast stirred to life, enjoying the scent of her terror mixed in with the scent of her filthy body. I stepped away quickly, turning my face upwind of her, but the sounds of her screaming brought a pounding rage to my knuc
kles.
‘Stop!’ I demanded. ‘What are you doing to her?’
Vincent continued to stare and Rose kept screaming until I couldn’t handle it anymore – I grabbed him by the throat and shook him until my wife’s sobs cut off. Then I threw him to the ground. ‘I said stop. What did you do?’
His eyes flashed as he looked up at me. ‘I made her think she was drowning in the ocean.’
Rose was white as parchment, her lips drained of colour, hands shaking uncontrollably. I took her by the arms and drew her to her feet. ‘I thought she was strong enough for this,’ I muttered, ‘but it seems I was wrong.’ Shame clouded her eyes as I guided her from the courtyard.
‘Your Majesty?’ Vincent called out and I looked back over my shoulder. ‘It was not only your wife’s fear that you could scent here today – and it is not your wife’s fear that runs deep enough to crack this country in half.’
I made a vow right then and there. One day, I would kill this snake.
Ava
The thing that struck me – as we sat within the branches of a tree for a good six hours – was his stillness. I was so uncomfortable I’d been squirming and shuffling every few minutes, but Ambrose was like an inanimate part of the tree itself – his gaze focused on the watering hole below, his fingers unmoving on the bowstring.
I did my best not to look at him, but he was in my line of sight and my eyes kept wandering back to him, stunned anew by that unwavering stillness.
The two Marks on his chest were so obvious to me now that I had no idea how I’d missed them on the boat. Every so often I spent a few minutes contemplating them, only to discover that I was as fascinated by them as I was appalled. To kill one of our warders was like murdering a deity. Throughout history I’d only ever heard of a handful having been slain – it was no simple matter. I couldn’t even begin to imagine how Ambrose had achieved the murder of one, let alone two.
‘Who are you?’ I asked abruptly. ‘What is it that you do?’
He didn’t move, his attention solely with the lake.
Impatient, I struggled to find a new position. My stomach was so hollow that food had become the only constant thought in my mind. ‘There’s nothing—’ I started to say for the fifth time. And saw him stiffen, his jaw clenching.
I followed his gaze and spotted it. There, standing next to the water, its head ducked to drink, was an enormous white stag – antlers as long as Ambrose’s considerable arm span. I felt myself go as still as him – aware that this was a thing of beauty, but unable to feel it stir me the way it once would have. I felt nothing, just as I always felt nothing.
Ambrose was frozen, staring at the creature, and what I saw in his face had more impact on me than any animal ever could have, regardless of how beautiful. All the hard edges in him had melted away and the expression in those eyes was suddenly and inarguably stark. I felt a shiver of something strange pass over me and couldn’t bear to look at him any longer. Instead, I thought about how badly my ribs hurt every time I moved, and the brutality he was capable of.
Very softly I heard him speak. ‘A prince of wolves you are indeed.’
I stared, not understanding.
As if his mind was made up, he shook his head. ‘Not this one.’
‘We’ve been here all day. It’s the first thing we’ve spotted.’
He turned his head slowly to look at me. ‘That beast is sacred – I’ll not shed its blood.’
I blinked, astonished. I’d never pegged him for the superstitious type. But then again, in Pirenti they did have a lot of strange beliefs. I nodded, and he turned back to watch the creature. While his focus was pulled, I very carefully drew an arrow from his quiver, holding it so still that it didn’t make a sound. Once I had it ready, I moved quickly, snatching the bow from Ambrose’s grip. I wouldn’t have been able to do it, had he not been so awed by the stag – of that I had no illusions. As it was, I barely got the shot loose before he lurched for it. His fist connected with my shoulder just as the arrow sailed through the air and landed in the beast’s neck. I gasped, but it was nothing like the sound the stag made – it screamed in pain and crashed heavily to the ground. Blood stained its white pelt, and for a second the colours reminded me all too vividly of Migliori.
The rage in Ambrose’s eyes stunned me. We stared at each other for a long moment and I realised that what I’d thought was silly superstition was in fact something much deeper for this man.
‘If anyone is punished,’ I offered softly, ‘it will be me.’
‘You think I care about the punishment?’ he snapped, shaking his head and starting the climb to the ground. He’d taken the rope from our wrists and used it to scale the tree, knowing I couldn’t hope to escape him when he was awake.
I worked myself down this rope, arms like jelly by the time I reached the forest floor. Ambrose was standing over the carcass, and he didn’t look at me as I approached. ‘I’ll not have any part in this,’ he said simply, and then vanished into the trees.
Standing over the dead beast and peering at the contours of its body, I was confronted with the sheer size of it. I’d never skinned an animal myself, but I’d seen it done enough times to know how it worked. Taking a breath, I forced myself to get started. The first step was to roll the beast onto its back, which was struggle enough. I took a knife and cut from the genitals up to the sternum and let the guts fall out, helping them by cutting away the fat that held them. I carefully pulled out all the organs, trying not to puncture the bladder. Once they were all out, I had to start skinning it.
I wiped my sweating forehead and sat back on my haunches. A movement in the corner of my eye alerted me to the fact that Ambrose was standing a distance away, silently watching my efforts. When I met his eyes for a brief moment, he was expressionless – it made me strangely ashamed of what I was doing, but I clenched my teeth and got back to work.
I cut around the stag’s neck and then pulled the hide down hard with both hands. Some of the flesh started pulling away with it, so I had to cut the skin clear before I could continue to pull it off. Then I cut the meat from the carcass, piling it up carefully. There was no way we could eat our way through an animal this size in one go, and I wasn’t sure how to store the meat so that it wouldn’t go off, but I was so exhausted by now that I hardly cared. I’d completely lost my appetite – I could have been dying of starvation and I still wouldn’t have wanted to eat. I was covered in blood and guts, and the smell that had permeated my nostrils was making me nauseous.
‘Get in the water,’ Ambrose ordered abruptly.
Dark had fallen while I worked, so I shed my outer layers of clothing, leaving my undershirt and shorts on. I didn’t care anymore if I didn’t appear bulky enough for a boy, because as I sank into the cooling water and closed my eyes I felt some of the gruesomeness wash away. I scrubbed my skin until I’d cleaned off all the blood, then floated on my back staring up at the stars. It didn’t bother me that everything was so unfamiliar – everything in Kaya had hurt to look upon. Here I could pretend I really was Avery, just a boy with no past, and no pain – someone whole and real. In fact, it was wonderful not to have to be Ava anymore – she started fading from my skin, even as I lay there. I thought of Migliori and how it would feel to ride him up there amidst the stars. I imagined flying so high that I could brush my fingertips over the edges of them, imagined that they felt like fire and ice to the touch.
Ambrose started to sing softly. At first it was just humming, and I looked up to realise that he was cooking the meat. I wasn’t sure what I felt about that; it confused me. Soon there were words in his deep baritone voice – a beautiful voice – drifting over the water to where I lay.
Snow falls in the north, where beasts lie in wait, their bones growing strong like ice, their blood hard as slate.
I closed my eyes, almost able to feel the cold of the snow in his song.
Follow the sea as it flees its way south, south to the silver bays of teeth and grief. Calm water, rocky coast,
and blood running veins in the distance.
I shivered, opening my eyes and swallowing. On he sang, and suddenly I wished he would stop.
After forest of deepest green sit rocks of all shapes, and a drop so bold it makes the heart break. Towers sparkle high in the sky, the only thing left are the countless ways to die. When she leapt from the top they say she never found her way to the sea. But her memory will forever be what makes love flee.
I tried to take a breath but it got stuck in my chest. I felt unimaginably sad, because I was here with a man who was singing of the towers of Limontae – the towers of my home, where my fiancé had studied for most of his life. And in Ambrose’s voice, for the first time since I’d met him, was something soft and gentle, and I wasn’t sure if he even realised it was there.
‘Food’s ready,’ he called.
The absence of music in the warm night was strange and empty and even sadder than the song. Slowly I waded from the water, trying to cover how the thin fabric clung to my figure, glad that it was growing darker with every moment. I huddled next to the fire, shivering with sudden cold.
Ambrose threw me his shirt. ‘Dry off with that.’
As he cut the meat, I found myself watching him, comparing him to Avery – which was stupid and nonsensical. Ambrose handed me the food, and I ate without taste. He ate none of it, sitting quiet and still.
‘Do you know what that song is about?’ I asked softly, my voice scratchy.
‘Sure,’ he murmured.
‘Then why do you sing it?’
He looked at me.
‘That’s a song about Kaya. You shouldn’t be singing about Kaya. How could you possibly?’
Ambrose sighed. ‘I’m tired, Avery.’
‘How could you possibly sing a song about Kaya?’ I pressed. ‘A song about the sadness and the love in those towers by the sea? Those towers aren’t yours.’
Avery (Random Romance) Page 6