Emmie took her time weaving the thick, dry strips and shook her head. “No, I was never very good at that. They always came out wobbly, one side shorter than the other, or the arm in the wrong place.”
Lucie laughed, a tinkling sound that made Emmie blush harder. “Oh, I’m not laughing at you. I’m terrible at it, too! Whenever Evan needs something repaired, I sneak off to one of the other women who can work a needle. I’m sure he knows, but he always thanks me as if I did it myself.”
“You’re with Evan?”
“Yes, he’s my mate.” Lucie smiled as she began to finish the edges of her second basket for the day, while Emmie was still barely halfway through her first.
Mate.
The word had floated in conversations, and she had originally brushed it off as a barbaric term the raiders chose to use because of how they treated women – but Lucie said it with reverence.
“What exactly does that mean?” Emmie asked, keeping her eyes on her weaving as she did her best to sound nonchalant.
“Has no one explained —” Lucie sighed and reached for another stack of grasses. “It means I belong to him, and he belongs to me.”
“You belong to him?” She couldn’t keep the disgust out of her voice, but Lucie laughed sweetly.
“Yes, Emmie, and he belongs to me as well.”
“So he took you from the woods?” she asked, glancing over at the warm expression on Lucie’s face.
“Actually, no. He wasn’t in the hunting party that found me, and I was in the stable a few weeks before he saw me near a fire during dinner and asked to sit with me.”
“He asked?”
“Yes.”
Emmie snorted, thinking of Lucian’s brash, commanding tone. “That must have been nice.”
“It was.” Lucie smiled to herself. “I started spending almost every night with him, and it could have continued like that for a long time, but then my moon time came and I was supposed to drink the moon tea.”
“The one that keeps you from getting pregnant?” Emmie had stopped weaving completely, staring at the other woman, and she stopped too. Lucie’s dark hair was bound in a messy bun atop her head, pale blue eyes and her kind smile making an otherwise plain face look beautiful.
“Yes, and don’t let Clara frighten you. It’s not nearly as bad as she makes it sound. I’d already taken it a few times, and it’s just a stomachache, but —” Lucie blushed a little and shrugged. “Evan asked me not to take it, and then he asked me if I’d be his mate. Begged is more like it. He said the most wonderful things, he called me beautiful, said he wanted to always have me beside him, that he wanted us to have a family.”
“And you said yes,” Emmie spoke softly and she nodded.
“I did.”
“What would have happened if you had said no?”
Lucie shrugged. “Other than breaking Evan’s heart? Nothing. He probably would have returned me to the stable so I could find a mate I wanted, but I didn’t want anyone else. I wanted him, and he wanted me, and soon we’ll have the family we wanted.” Her hand landed low on her belly and Emmie gasped.
“You’re pregnant?”
“Hush!” She laughed, and leaned over to grab Emmie’s hand, tugging her forward to lay her palm against the firm roundness of the other woman’s belly. “No one really knows yet. Pregnancies are tricky things, but this little one is moving, fluttering. It is only four, maybe five months along, but I have a good feeling. Isn’t that right, little one?” Lucie’s voice went soft and sweet as she held Emmie’s hand against her stomach.
“Can I feel it move?”
“I don’t think the little one is quite big enough yet, but one day. I’ll make sure you get to feel.”
“Thank you.” Emmie felt a warm excitement at the idea of seeing Lucie’s child, but it was quickly cooled by the realization that it meant she would have to be there, in the village, for months. Many more months – and that was an unwelcome thought. She pulled her hand back, glad to see that Lucie had not caught the shift in her mood.
“Are you sure you did nothing else in the city? What did you do to earn money?” Lucie’s voice broke into her thoughts and Emmie squirmed. These exiles had a way of asking the worst questions.
“Various things. I used to take down letters for —” My father, she finished in her head, but then cleared her throat. “People. Anyone who needed it done.”
“You can write?” Lucie gasped, and Emmie nodded a little. “Can you read too?”
“Um, yes?” For a moment, she wasn’t sure if she had just made a huge error. Was it that uncommon to be literate?
“That’s amazing! Oh my, we have to tell Mathias!” Lucie put her basket aside and ripped Emmie’s from her hands before tugging her to her feet. “Come on!”
“What? Wait! Who is —” Emmie’s words were lost in Lucie’s excited rambling as she pulled her through the village, in the direction of Lucian’s home. The urge to dig her heels in was strong, but she didn’t want to hurt the nice woman, even on accident.
They fortunately passed Lucian’s home and walked to a slightly larger structure, built in the center of three huge trees that helped to support it. It also had a rough version of a door and Lucie knocked on it loudly. “Mathias! Mathias, I have someone you really want to meet!”
“Lucie,” a man’s low laughter came from the interior, “what is it girl?” The door was tugged open and a large man appeared. Long, dark hair hung over his shoulders, and his dark eyes narrowed as they landed on Emmie. His face was weathered and tan, older, but it was clear there was still strength in his limbs. “I know all about this one, Lucie. Why is she at my door?”
“She can read!” Lucie cheered, squeezing Emmie’s hand in her excitement. “And write!”
Mathias’ expression didn’t change much. “Really? And how exactly did she learn that?”
“She used to take down letters for people in the city!”
“A handy skill for sure, and a rare one.” The older man looked skeptical, but then he stepped back and tilted his head toward the interior. “Well, come in and prove it, girl.”
“I —” Emmie sputtered, but Lucie suddenly wrapped her in a warm hug.
“I knew we’d find a place for you!”
“Thank you for bringing her, Lucie, you can return to your work.” A warm smile appeared for a moment as he looked at the other woman, and then she waved and turned away.
Mathias walked inside, his gruff voice making Emmie nervous as she took a few tentative steps into the dim space. “Come in and sit down.” He pointed to a chair near a large table and Emmie sank down onto it.
The wood looked to be smoothed by years of use, and various papers were scattered across it, held in place by rocks. Mathias used a long stick to flip open the skylight and then groaned as he dropped into a chair on the opposite side. Warm sunlight poured onto the table, and a breeze followed it, ruffling the edges of the papers but failing to unseat any of them.
“All right, girl, read this.” Mathias tugged a page from under a rock and held it out to her.
Emmie took it and scanned the narrow script, tilting it towards the light. “M- my brothers, there is less movement on the Eastern walls as of late. I have seen them empty for many hours in the twilight time—”
Mathias ripped the page from her hands. “That’s enough.”
“What—”
“No. You do not get to ask questions about anything here.” He sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “So, you can read. Prove to me that you can write.”
“How—”
“What did I say about asking questions?” Mathias interrupted her again and fury boiled up inside her, making her clench her fists under the edge of the table. He wasn’t fazed, pulling a box from somewhere before laying it on the table. From it, he pulled a fresh sheet of paper, only slightly marred with smudges, a stoppered ink well, and an old dip pen with a bone handle. “Go on then,” he said as he pushed them towards her.
Once the
materials were situated, Emmie raised her eyes to him. “Well?”
“Write.”
Rolling her eyes, Emmie gestured at the blank paper. “And are you going to tell me what to write, or am I just supposed to start with my letters like a child?”
“Watch your tongue or you’ll earn a punishment. I don’t give a shit what orders Lucian left behind, they don’t apply to me, little bird.” His threat hung in the air, and Emmie gritted her teeth as she faced off with the older man. Finally, he cleared his throat in a grinding cough and spoke. “Start the letter like this… It has been weeks since your last message was received, old friend. We are preparing as you have suggested, but there is more we must ask of you if it will not put you and yours in harm’s way. There are —” He suddenly froze, and his dark eyes were on her as she caught up and then lifted the pen. “That’s enough, hand it to me.”
Emmie blew across the ink to dry it, frustrated by the old nib on the pen that had made her writing messier than usual as she had adjusted to the correct pressure needed to form the letters neatly. “You could say please,” she mumbled and he huffed as he tugged the paper from her hand.
“I don’t say please.” He angled the paper into the light, narrowing his eyes and widening them as he moved the paper forward and back until finally he paused and she saw his gaze moving across the page. “Hmm, well, it seems you are not a liar. You’re quite the little scholar.”
“Thanks.” She rolled her eyes and put the stopper back into the ink well.
“So, who are you?” Mathias leaned on the table, his dark eyes boring into her as an uneasy feeling took up residence in her stomach.
“Me? I’m no one.” Even Emmie heard the tremble in her voice and she silently cursed herself.
“Clever girl. You may be no one now, but you were someone. Tell me who you were in the city.” His words were confident, and there was no doubt in her mind that this man was dangerous. Smart and dangerous – a very bad combination.
“No one,” Emmie repeated.
“Don’t lie to me, girl!” He slammed his hand on the table and the rocks bounced. “What nice little family did you belong to, little bird? No working man or woman can read as well as that, or write so prettily.”
“I took down letters for —”
“DO NOT LIE TO ME!” Mathias shouted at her and stood, towering over her as he leaned across the table.
“I’m. Not.” Emmie enunciated clearly, meeting the man’s eyes as confidently as she could, even though her heart was hammering a tattoo inside her chest.
“I’ll give you one more chance, and then you’re going to regret not taking it.” Mathias walked slowly around the table, brushing his hands together until he stood directly in front of her. “Who were you inside the city?”
Emmie swallowed. Who was she? Her mind was filled with visions of well-appointed rooms, elegant ballrooms, warm baths, and beautiful dresses. Music that seemed to lift the roof as it filled rooms, the sounds of laughter, and stacks upon stacks of incredible books. Then the golden haze faded until angry shouting replaced the music, until she felt the sting of a slap, and the memories of screaming and begging and banging on locked doors pushed the superficial beauty of it all far away. “I. Was. No. One.”
“Have it your way.” Mathias’ hand was faster than she expected as he grabbed the braid at the back of her head and hauled her bodily out of the chair, immediately dragging her outside as the door banged open.
“Stop!” she screamed, but he didn’t even slow. Emmie stumbled, half bent over with the way he held her hair in his fist. It was a short but painful walk to the center of the village, and Mathias took a sharp left towards the side of the common area. “Let me go!”
He shoved her to the ground, and she caught herself, immediately turning around to glare up at him. “Strip,” he ordered.
“What? No!” Emmie moved to stand, but Mathias was in front of her again, wrenching her head back by her hair.
“Listen, girl, you can either strip yourself, or I can tie you up clothed and then cut them off you. But then you’ve lost the clothes and you’ll have to earn more.” He released her hair and stood tall. “Your choice.”
Tears burned the edges of her eyes as she caught the movement of the raiders walking through the village. He was going to tie her up… naked? “Please, don’t do this.”
“You’ve earned the punishment already, but if you tell me who you were in the city then I may cut it short.” Mathias crossed his arms, and Emmie clenched her jaw tight. “Fine then, strip now or I’m going with option two.”
“Every one of you is going to hell,” Emmie muttered as she shoved herself off the ground.
“Aren’t we all? Get on with it.”
She started with the long sleeved overshirt, yanking it over her head to throw it to the ground. Her sleeveless undershirt went next. Then she opened her pants, pushing them down, before ripping off her shoes and socks so she could kick the pants away from her. It only left the cloth around her breasts and the thin panties. “Please, may I keep the rest on?” Her voice was pleading, and she hated the sound of it.
“What kind of punishment is that? I’m getting impatient, girl, you have ten seconds.” Mathias reached down and drew a knife from his boot and Emmie swallowed.
It was quick work to divest herself of the rest, but she went from feeling naked to being completely exposed, which only grew worse as Mathias pressed her back against the rough bark of the tree with a hand in the center of her chest.
“Hands up,” he ordered and she raised her eyes to see the loops of rope that seemed to have been placed there expressly for this purpose. “That’s right. You’re not the first one to need correction. Now, wrists.”
Emmie held her arms above her head, keeping her eyes screwed tight even as she felt him tighten the rope around her wrists. Matching loops went around each ankle, but when he was done wrapping rope around her and the tree, her legs stayed closed – and for that she was grateful, although she’d never voice it to him. “I hate all of you,” she whispered when he straightened up again.
“Just remember this the next time you think about being defiant.” He tugged on the ropes one last time, and then picked up her clothes and shoes in his arms. “Use this time to think about whether or not the information you’re keeping to yourself is worth it. I’ll come back later.”
As soon as he was out of sight, she tested the ropes, worrying her wrists and her feet until her skin felt raw again, breaking the barely healed skin. His words dug at her, and she hated that there was nothing to do but think about what had put her in this position. Naked, in full view of anyone passing through the village center. The tree above her provided some shade, but dappled sunlight still danced over her skin, and the chill of the air was already biting at her with no clothing to break it.
You just had to mention you could write, her mind mocked and she smacked her head back against the tree as if it would halt her own thoughts.
They wanted to know the truth about her, but she didn’t even want to think about who she really was. Or who she had been before she ran. Emeline Anne Daniau. Second daughter to Jules Daniau, bastard.
What would they do if they found out the truth? Would they even listen to the reasons why she had left the city voluntarily, or would they mindlessly hate her?
It’s not like she didn’t have a sob story. Every one of them had a sob story, and she’d listened to several over the last week. The only difference was that none of their sob stories started on a beautiful estate, where food was abundant, where in simpler times the most stressful decision she’d had to make had been about what to wear to a dinner party, or how to do her hair.
They’ll hate you, an inner voice whispered at her, and she couldn’t help but agree. Alice knew about her, and she was still kind, but it was clear that Alice’s particular level of generosity and kindness was unique.
No, she couldn’t tell them.
She was surrounded by the enemies of th
e city, the very people she had been raised to fear. They were the bogeymen of her childhood, the threats posed whenever she was disobedient.
Eat your vegetables, or the raiders will take you in the night!
Obey your father, or you’ll end up like the exiles!
Well, look where she was. Even after all the vegetables she had eaten, even after all the times she had born her father’s rage as he’d shouted at her to behave, after all the fun she had refused to participate in because it might upset him – with one broken promise she found herself amidst them anyway.
Mathias could rot in hell. Lucian could too. The whole damned village of exiles could be swallowed by the earth for all she cared.
Emmie wrapped her rage around her like a blanket and did her best to tune out everyone, focusing instead on the wind in the trees, the chirping of birds, and the buzzing of insects. That was how she passed the hours, occasionally opening her eyes to mark the movement of the sun, before returning to her focused meditation. The chill had long since settled into her skin, and shivers rippled through her muscles causing her teeth to chatter for minutes at a time before fading, only to return again.
Shouts and cheers broke into her reverie and she lifted her head to see people gathering off in the distance. Their voices grew louder until snippets started to drift towards her.
“Deer! Five Deer!” a young man’s voice shouted.
“They’re back, they’re back!”
“Victor is going to be pissed when he returns, his group will never beat this haul!”
The crowd parted as they moved into the village center, uncomfortably close to her, and then Lucian appeared with a narrow log over one shoulder. Another man held the other end and between them hung a deer. They were laughing, talking, as the others filed in to place the other deer on the ground. His face was brightened by a broad smile, and he caught the excited hug of a woman with one arm before she ran off into the crowd.
That was when he saw her.
Lucian’s face changed instantly, the joy wiped from it as a cloud of anger replaced it. Another round of shivers shook Emmie then, and she dropped her eyes from him. His voice roared, “BEN! Ben, where the hell are you?”
Taken by the Enemy Page 6