Grave of Words (Fall of Under Book 2)

by Kathryn Ann Kingsley

  Except for the burning in his veins that kept him weak…it was a decent day, all things considered. The poison didn’t hurt as badly this morning as it had last night when he had fed from her. And it didn’t hurt nearly as badly as the first time. I wonder if I can become immune to you in time, little dove. How wonderful that will be.

  And what a brilliant game we can play if I do.

  To his credit, Rxa kept his word. He stayed silent for six whole hours. But almost as if the man had an internal clock, she could have watched the second hand tick to the end before he was off to the races again.

  “Was it good for you, too?”

  “The silence?” She smirked. “It was fantastic. I’m sad it’s over.”

  He laughed, seemingly enjoying her joke. At least he didn’t get offended easily. Having him mad at her would probably be a bad idea. Except for the fact that I’m torturing him by forcing him to drink my blood.

  “No, no. I mean…when I drank you last night.” His voice dropped low. “Because…I enjoyed it very much. And from the look on your face, and how you fell against me…I think you did, too.”

  “I’m poisoning you.” She frowned. She didn’t want to have this conversation in any way, shape, or form. “It’s hurting you.”

  “It is. But I think it’s worth it. To feel you in my veins…to taste you. Tell me something. Did you—ah, what’s the classy way to say it. Did you—”

  “No.” She knew what he was hinting at. Her cheeks went warm, and she was very glad he wasn’t able to see her face. Intimacy wasn’t anything to be ashamed of. But it was still embarrassing how the experience had made her feel.

  “Damn. I’ll try harder next time. If you just let yourself relax, I’ve heard it’s better than sex. Even better than that, is if you want to combine the two.” He hummed thoughtfully. “How about it?”

  “No!” She growled. “Stop provoking me.”

  “I’m not provoking, I’m propositioning. Very different.” He leaned his head against her shoulder. “But I do want to bathe first. For both our sakes. Wait.” He sighed. “I forgot. It hasn’t grown back yet. I guess we’ll have to take another rain check. Damn.”

  “You’re awful.”

  “Again, a bath will help. Can we stop now?”

  With a long sigh, she patted Cricket’s neck. “Yeah. We can.” The horse took a left turn off the road and headed to the river. It had grown wider and deeper as they traveled. Now it was some thirty feet across. It was picturesque, with rocks jutting out from the gentle current and a few fallen trees. When they reached a good place to stop, she dismounted then untied Rxa.

  This time, she helped him down. He was still weak, and he fell against her, and would have toppled to the ground if she hadn’t caught him.

  For a moment, the sight of him struck her again. Even with his shoulders hunched and his head hung low, it was clear he was something special. Someone unique. Someone powerful. And she was torturing him. With a long sigh, she shook her head.

  “What?” He turned his masked face to her.

  “I’m sorry. That’s all.”

  “I believe you.” He leaned in, and before she could stop him, he placed the forehead of his mask against her temple. If she stepped away, he’d crash to the ground. “For what it’s worth…I’m not taking this personally. Now. How about a kiss?”

  She stepped away.

  “Ow.” He crumpled to the ground with a groan. “You could have just said no.”

  She chuckled and helped him back to his feet. “You deserved that.”

  “Why?”

  “You’re too…touchy.”

  “You like being touched. What’s the problem?”

  “I don’t want you to touch me. That’s why. I don’t like it.” She helped him sit on a rock by the edge of the shore and began gathering up firewood. The river was cold, and she would want some way to warm up quickly.

  “You don’t? You could have fooled me.” He arched his back and twisted sharply to the side, loudly popping his spine. “Oh, that’s better.”

  “What do you mean, I could have fooled you?”

  “You blush. You break out in goosebumps. You moaned my name when I bit your throat. Last night, when I drank your blood, you were on the edge of release. You fought it. You like it. You just don’t want to like it.”

  She glared at him and didn’t answer. Namely…because he was right. She shook her head and grumbled a few obscenities in the old tongue as she struck the flint to light the fire.

  “It’s fine. I understand. I’m the enemy. No one is supposed to want the enemy. But here we are.” He leaned his head against the tree behind him as he watched her. “I’ll need your help undressing, you realize…”

  “I know.” The thought had occurred to her. And given the current conversation, she wasn’t looking forward to it. Once the fire was going, she stood and walked over to him. “Let’s make this quick.”

  “Don’t worry. I don’t have my—ah—required parts. Oh, that’s going to sting, isn’t it?” He sighed. “It had better grow back. I don’t want to look like a Ken doll for the rest of my life.”

  “I have no idea what that means.”

  “I know.”

  With a roll of her eyes, she helped him stand. She untied the rope that kept his wrists lashed to his waist. Slowly, carefully, she began to unwrap the bandages that covered his arm and his chest. The wounds that covered him were still raw and open. Little by little, though, she could see that he was healing. There was yellow writing in that strange and cryptic language that sprawled over his body.

  He wasn’t skinny at all, she realized. Or at least, he wasn’t scrawny. He had the body of a swordsman. Lean and fast. His shoulders tapered to thin hips.

  When she came to a section of bandage that had healed into him, she frowned.

  “Go on,” he murmured. “Pull.”

  Cringing, she did just that. He growled loudly in pain and hung his head, nearly toppling to the ground as one of his knees buckled beneath him. She caught him, trying her best not to touch any of the open wounds.

  Once he could stand under his own power again, she finished removing his bandages. She tossed them to the ground by the edge of the river. She would rinse them clean as best she could.

  But then came the more problematic event. His pants. He lifted his tied hands to his face and pulled his mask off and tossed it carelessly onto the pile of bandages. Pale-yellow eyes focused back on her. She saw the feverish glint in them. And she saw the pain.

  She forced herself to think about the situation only as a patient and a medic. She was helping him bathe. That was all. Without a word, she began untying the tight black pants he had stolen from Aon’s estate.

  With a wince, she realized…she had to kneel to get his pants all the way off. With a beleaguered sigh, she did just that.

  He cackled quietly.

  Viciously, she glared up at him. “Shut up.”

  “I haven’t said anything!”

  She studiously kept her eyes from focusing on his nudity. And it was exactly as he said, regardless—his legs were more wounded than his torso. She could see the tendons in his thigh as he struggled to stay standing.

  Once he stepped out of his pants, she realized the next part of her dilemma.

  “Damn it all.” She groaned.

  “Just put it together?” He smiled at her. “You rush ahead into things, don’t you?”

  “Shut up.” She walked away from him to stand by the fire and began unlacing her boots. The last thing she wanted to do was go into the river clothed and have to spend the next day or two damp and freezing. “Nudity is nothing to be ashamed of in Gioll.”

  “Imagine a world where no one can become pregnant or get sick. Imagine a world where no one dies of old age. Now, picture how very bored and very frisky people would get in that instance.” Rxa chuckled. “But tell me—if you aren’t ashamed, then why are you blushing?”

  “Shut. The fuck. Up. Or I’ll drown you.”
>
  “All right, all right.”

  She took off her pants, deciding to leave her panties on. She had another pair in her bag. Shrugging out of her coat, she took off the black cotton shirt that Aon had given her along with the rest of her clothes and put them on the ground near her spear and her knife.

  “Oh. Interesting.”

  “What?”

  When she glanced at him, he was staring at her. His gaze raked over her body. “You bind your breasts. Why?”

  “They get in the way.”

  With a slow, sinful smile, his gaze traveled back up to her face. “Can I unwrap them?”

  “No.” She set her jaw and fixed the best angry stare she could at him. “Stop it.”

  He shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

  She took a small cloth hand towel—which she had stolen from Aon’s home—out of her bag. She had lifted quite a lot from Aon’s house. She hoped he wouldn’t mind. He has so much. He won’t even miss it. Besides, his house is ransacked now.

  Walking up to Rxa, she took him by the elbow and guided him into the water. He hissed in pain each time one of his wounds touched the cold water for the first time. But soon, they were up to her waist in the water. He sat down on a rock and dunked his head beneath the surface.

  The water around him turned crimson in the white and green moonlight. When he came back up for air, she started to carefully wash his wounds with the hand towel. She had to dip it into the water every few seconds to wash the blood and dirt off the cloth.

  His eyes were shut, and he leaned into her touch as she worked. When she reached his back, she hesitated.

  There were two wounds there. They were vertical slashes to the left and right of his spine by his shoulder blades. They looked different from the rest. She touched her fingers to the healed skin near one of the wounds.

  “I had wings, once,” he whispered.

  Cricket neighed from nearby.

  “I don’t need your commentary,” Rxa shot back at the horse. “Just hunt some dinner for the two of you already and shut up, horsie.”

  She laughed. “Now you’re arguing with him?”

  “Why not? You don’t like to talk to me.”

  “I’d be less upset if you weren’t trying to destroy the world.” She began to rinse his hair, trying to untangle some of the strands with her fingers. “Will you stop the drengil? Please?”

  “No.”

  “I had to ask.”

  “I know.” His eyes were shut again. He looked almost at peace. The lines of his face were smooth and no longer creased in agony. The cold water must be helping relieve the pain. “Will you poison me again tonight?”

  “I have to.”

  “Careful…you might get addicted to my bite.” He smirked, but it faded quickly. “It’s happened before.”

  “How the mighty have fallen.” She hit a particularly bad snag and began picking at the knot with her fingers. “In Gioll, we’re taught that nothing is forever. Everything will be taken away in time.”

  “That is exactly what I am trying to do. Dethrone the mighty.” He opened his pale eyes again and turned to look up at her. “I wish you understood.”

  “I will never understand the need to destroy a whole world.”

  “If you had seen all that I have, perhaps you would feel differently.” He stood from the rock he was sitting on. His eyes went wide as his footing slipped. He yelped and grabbed her in an attempt to keep himself standing.

  It didn’t work.

  She let out a matching sound as he dragged them both beneath the water. When she managed to come back up, she sputtered and wiped the water from her eyes. When she pulled him back up to his feet, he was laughing.

  A real laugh. Not a manic, terrible, insane-sounding thing.

  But one filled with mirth.

  She could see a glimmer of the man he must have been before all the suffering and the pain. And for a split second, she was struck in awe by how beautiful he was.

  The traitorous, errant thought caught her off guard. She shoved it away, but it was too late.

  Fuck.

  6

  Rxa sat on the ground by the fire, his legs folded in front of him. He had his pants back on. Which was for the best. He had no desire to get dirt and rocks in the open wounds that still dotted his calves and thighs, not to mention the more sensitive part of himself that was still missing.

  His hands were once again secured to a rope around his waist, and that one around the log behind him. But he was warm. And he was clean. Well—cleaner. He would kill for some soap, but he wouldn’t look a “gift river” in the mouth.

  Ember was crouched by the shore, her hands in the water, scrubbing the blood and crust from his bandages as best she could. She tended to him silently and without complaint. Oh, how she had carefully worked the knots from his hair and cleaned his wounds. It had reminded him of days long gone to the sands of time.

  Days when he had been fawned over. When souls had fought for the chance to earn his attention and his affection. When mortals had worshipped his beauty and founded religions in his name. He had been the shining light in the darkness of a world that knew only horror.

  He had been the avatar of wisdom. Temperance. Kindness. Peace.

  He had been love.

  And it had all been a lie.

  All those sycophants and traitors—where were they when he needed them? Where were they when it was time to stand at his side?

  With Aon.

  He grimaced at the thought of the name and clenched his fists until his sharp nails stung his palms. And what had he been given in exchange for all his eons of caring for others? For all his centuries of tending to the frightened and the weary who came to Under?

  Death.

  And now he had been given something even worse.

  “The only thing worse than death is to be denied death itself.”

  “Hum?” Ember turned to him.

  “Oh. Nothing. Didn’t realize I had said anything.” He chuckled. “Silly brain, wandering out of my mouth again. Figuratively. Blech. Can you imagine if I started melting?”

  She shook her head and went back to what she was doing. He watched her and frowned. He wanted to be freed of the ropes she used to bind him. He wanted to snatch her up and whisk her away and plot his revenge on his terms.

  But here he was. Tied to a damn tree. With a mortal. And a horse.

  Speaking of, that annoying horse of hers was back to fishing for food. He was starving—he needed to gorge himself on raw meat. But he knew she wouldn’t give him any.

  He didn’t blame her. It was hard to imagine how she must feel, being trapped in a different world with creatures who made mince pies out of her species for fun. She was tasked to be his warden by fate. And though he could catch glimmers of her when her armor cracked, she was largely unwavering.

  To be young again. To be naïve. To think that if you just try, it will matter.

  He tried not to laugh. He mostly succeeded.

  Ember had put her pants back on but was letting the bandages she used to bind her breasts dry before putting her shirt and coat back on. He wouldn’t complain. By the stars, she was beautiful. Desperately, he wanted to see the curves she tried so hard to hide. She was muscular. Scars ran along her back and her arms—proof of the hard life she lived. She looked a little too thin. How he wanted to fix that. He wanted to cook feasts for her and lavish her with gifts…after he finished ravaging her like the spoils of war.

  He grinned to himself. Soon enough, he’d plant her in the dirt and have his way with her. She was the kind of creature that denied her own wants until the bitter end. He’d have to pry her desires out of her until she couldn’t silence them any longer. The image flashed in his mind, and he shivered. Her large, dark eyes, flashing with anger, indignation, and desire, as he forced her to reckon with what he saw cross her sensual features when they had been in the river.

  She wanted him.

  Poor creature. So devoid of affection that she fi
nds herself attracted to me. This broken thing. He gazed into the fire, watching the orange flames dance and flicker. It filled the air with a homey, comforting woodsmoke smell.

  He had to bide his time.

  He had to wait.

  He wasn’t used to waiting.

  Shutting his eyes, he let out a long sigh.

  When something touched his shoulder, he jolted. The fire had changed—new logs had been thrown on. He looked around, confused. Bandages were laid out by the fire to dry. The moons had moved.

  “Rxa?” Ember was sitting on the log beside him, her brow furrowed in concern. “Are you all right?”

  “I must have dozed off.” He shook his head. “Dreaming of other times.”

  “I have something that might help you.” She held up a small jar. It was repurposed—the label said something about canned beets. “It’s a salve meant for burns. But it might help the wounds on your back. If you want, I can put some on.”

  He scooted forward an inch and then leaned forward. “Please.”

  She sat behind him, her knees to either side of him, and he heard the cap unscrew. A second later, a cold substance touched him. He braced for pain, but none came. Lowering his head, he basked in the sensation of her hands on his skin, carefully spreading the salve over the place where his wings should have been.

  “Is this my penance? For what…? Ego? Hubris?” He murmured the words, not really meaning them for her or for anyone in particular.

  “I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

  “I was spoiled. For five thousand years, I was what all my peers aspired to. I was the mediator. The friend. The mentor. Suitors lined up at my feet. I could have nearly any man or woman I desired. I suppose it is only fair.”

  “No. There’s nothing fair about this. About what’s happened to me, or you, or Under…or all the people your drengil are killing. They had nothing to do with what happened.”

  “Nice try.” He smirked. “But they do. When push came to shove, they chose Aon over me. The warlock. The one they all professed to despise.”

  “Will you tell me the story, Rxa?”

  “Of what?”

  “Who you are and…what happened.”