With a long, heavy sigh from her, the conversation trailed into silence. They rode for another hour before it was time to stop for the night. The river had grown wider, and from the clearing where they made camp, she could see the current had increased as well. It was heading toward a body of water.
Cricket wandered off to find himself dinner. Rxa, for his part, hunted food for her. He returned with what she could only liken to something that resembled a rabbit. Three of them, in fact. She set about skinning and cleaning hers. She had every intention on cooking her food.
Rxa…did not.
She tried not to grimace as he removed his mask and began tearing into the dead animals with his bare hands. The noise was like listening to a wild dog eating. His claws—that had been missing when he had touched her—had returned. He must be able to control them.
She stuck the meat on a stick and propped it over the fire to cook.
Every time he turned his back on her, she debated running into the woods and making a wild break for freedom. But what would be the point? He would catch her without trying. There was nowhere she could hide from someone who could control and see through the eyes of an army of the dead. One that she hadn’t seen, but she knew was waiting eagerly in the wings.
The thought hadn’t occurred to her before. “Rxa?”
“Hrm?” He looked up. Red coated his chin and his lips.
“Where are your drengil?”
“A whole lot of places.” He ripped the leg off the animal and twisted the bones to break the joints.
“I mean, why aren’t they here, with us? Following us around?”
“They’re close.”
He was clearly dodging. She pushed the subject. “But why aren’t they here?”
He went silent for a long time, staring down at the dead animal. He lifted his palms, stained crimson and dripping in blood. Slowly, he flexed and straightened his fingers. “This is why.”
“I don’t understand.”
His voice was a whisper when he answered. She almost didn’t catch it. “With you, I can pretend.” He sat back heavily. The look on his face was faraway and mournful. “Without them…you aren’t so afraid.”
Why did that break her heart? Why did something in her chest crack in half? “Rxa, I—”
“I gotta piss.” He stood and walked abruptly off into the woods toward the river.
“With you, I can pretend.” She played the words over and over in her head. Whatever she had tapped into with her question was a raw wound, and one he wasn’t willing to confront just yet. Turning the meat over the fire, she propped her elbow on her knee and her head on her hand.
What an odd and tragically broken man.
A demigod, and a flawed creature all at the same time.
I wonder if the old gods were just as messed up as he is. As they all seem to be.
A loud laugh came from near the river followed by a loud “woo-hoo!” She looked over to see Rxa standing there, looking down at the ground, with both of his fists raised over his head in triumph. “Oh, hey, there, little buddy! Halle-fucking-lujah! Holy shit, I missed you. Welcome back! Hey, Ember!” He looked over his shoulder at her, grinning like the lunatic that he was. “Great news!”
Ember groaned.
15
Rxa sat down beside Ember at the fire. He couldn’t get the grin off his face. Not because he was pleased he had finally grown back a rather important part of his body that had been conspicuously absent—he was ecstatic—but because she looked so wonderfully put out.
Her jaw ticked. She was gazing into the fire, desperately trying to ignore his presence at her side.
“Well,” he started.
“No.”
Laughing, he leaned back on the log that cut across the clearing they had chosen to bed down in for the night. “You don’t even know what I’m going to say.”
“I don’t care.”
Folding his arms behind his head, he stretched out. The fire was warm and cozy, and he had wonderful company. Company he couldn’t help but delight in teasing.
She was a wonderful distraction from the abject nonsense and misery that had become his life.
But was that all?
Was she just a distraction? Something to cling to in the darkness? He wasn’t quite sure. Reaching out, he gently ran his hand over her hair, stroking back the white tendrils. He adored her strange, charming, bi-colored hair. White on one side, black on the other. It suited her.
She was a woman of contradictions. Religious but rational. Empathetic but stubborn. Tough…but fragile, all at the same time. He remembered her arching against him, her body writhing in pleasure as he touched her. The same woman who had stabbed him several times now. Who had poisoned him, but wept as she did it.
No, she was more than a distraction to him now. She was more than a teddy bear for him to clutch and wish for the shapes in the shadows to go away. What she was to him, he couldn’t quite say, however. But she was precious to him; that much he knew.
She let him touch her. Let him comb his hand through the strands of her hair. She shut her eyes, and the hardened expression she wore to deter him began to smooth.
“You don’t always have to be strong, you know…” He let his claws scrape against her scalp. He knew she loved that. And sure enough, he watched her shiver. He wondered if there were goosebumps under the royal blue coat he had given her.
“Yes, I do.” The firmness to her voice didn’t match her features. Suddenly, she looked sad. He frowned. That wasn’t his intention. But since when had he not managed to screw something up? She toyed with one of the buttons on her sleeve, her attention turned down to her lap. “If I’m weak, people die. That’s always been true. Still is. That’s my life.”
“Your life has changed.” He reached out for her. “Come here, little dove. I want to hold you.”
Her jaw twitched again. Turmoil raged in her, clear as the moons in the sky. “I’m not going to have sex with you.”
“I’ll keep my hands in polite places, I promise.” He smirked. “My…eh…gentleman’s parts are still healing, even if they’re back. This isn’t about that.”
“What’s it about, then?”
“You and me. Us.”
“There isn’t an ‘us.’”
“Not yet.” He shut his eyes and stretched, yawning. “Believe it or not, Ember dear, I care about you.”
“Why?”
“Why does anyone care about anything?” He scooted down until he was lying on the dirt and grass. Grabbing her bag, he tucked it under his head as a very lumpy, but otherwise workable pillow. He would be very glad for a bed and an actual pillow when they reached his old “summer” home on the lake. “Who knows. But I do.”
“You don’t know me.”
“I know plenty. What you’re saying is that it hasn’t been long enough. And that’s a crock. There’s a connection between us. You can deny it, or you can embrace it. That’s your call.” He yawned sleepily again. “Your gods are likely dead and are not here to judge you. Your society of mortals has fallen apart. My gods are assholes who need to be destroyed. No one is going to look down on you for your choice except you.” He turned his head to the side and tried to get cozy. “But something tells me you’re the meanest judge of yourself.”
When she was silent, he smiled. He knew he had hit a nerve with that comment. “I’m the same way, darling. As I said—you and I are very much the same.”
“No. We’re not.”
“Suit yourself.” Sleep was coming for him quickly. “No running off, now,” he mumbled. “I’ll find you if you do. Then I’ll have to tie you up again, and not in a fun, sexy way, either.”
“I know.”
It was just as he was nodding off that he felt her lie down at his side. Shyly, furtive, and unsure, she laid her head on his chest and draped an arm over him, careful to avoid the bandages over a few of his remaining sore spots.
He lifted his head to kiss the top of hers before settling back dow
n and wrapped an arm around her.
It was because she was painfully lonely.
It was because he had stolen what she usually used for a pillow.
It was because he was warm, and the night was chilly even with the warmth of the fire.
And maybe, just maybe…
Hope bloomed in him. He knew it was a fragile lie. A thin façade. But he embraced it all the same. Hope was a poison—but now he was the king of such things.
Maybe, just maybe, she was lying down at his side because she wanted to be beside him.
What a charming notion.
“Whoa, horsie!”
Ember turned her head to look at Rxa as Cricket obediently came to a halt. They had been riding for half the day, largely in silence. He seemed content to leave her alone with her thoughts and her warring internal debate. She was glad for it. “What is it?”
Rxa pointed off to the left into the woods. “We’re going that way.”
“There’s no road—” She paused. Now that she looked at it, there was. Or at least, there had been. The path that had been there was now badly overgrown, but she could make out bits of stones that had been used to pave the way.
Cricket snorted and shook his head and then pointed his nose down the road.
“No. We’re going left, horsie.” Rxa kicked Cricket in the side with his heel. “Not south.”
Cricket stomped his hoof into the dirt, shifting anxiously from leg to leg.
“Listen, housefly.” Rxa’s hand on her leg tightened as his anger grew. “You either listen to me now, or we walk the rest of the way, and you say goodbye to your little mortal friend. Or you obey me—you go left—and you get to stick along with our merry band for a little while longer. Choice is yours.”
Disgruntled, Cricket dug his hoof into the dirt again, kicking up rocks. But with a final, aggravated toss of his head, he turned left down the overgrown path.
“Where are you taking us?” There were markers along the nearly invisible road. Grown over with vines and undergrowth, she nearly mistook them for trees. It took her a long time to realize they weren’t just markers—they were statues. Statues of figures with large, feathery wings.
Time had not been kind to them. Many were missing limbs, hands, or bits of the wings that stretched around them in various poses. The features of some were worn smooth and darkened with moss. Fingerless hands reached for them, greeted them, or held weapons that were nothing more than stubs of broken rock protruding from fists.
But those that did still have their faces, she recognized. She recognized the masks they wore. Although the statues were cracked and faded in a very different way from the man—demigod, she reminded herself—sitting behind her on the horse, there was no mistaking him.
Rxa.
“You lined the road to your home with statues of yourself?” She arched an eyebrow incredulously. “Seriously?”
“Eh.” He shrugged. “I had a bit of an ego.”
“Had?” She smirked.
He snickered and poked her in the side. “Be nice.” But he hardly sounded upset at her good-natured jab. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised this place was abandoned. It seems Under wanted to forget me after I was gone.” He sighed, his mood deflating. “I thought maybe…they might have missed me.”
There was an emptiness in his voice that made her own heart ache. She took his hand and held it. He laced his fingers through hers and squeezed. When he spoke again, his tone was a little lighter. “You’re right. I do still have an ego. Here I am, sad not to find an altar with roses and candles and offerings draped all over it. Weeping widows and ex-lovers throwing themselves at the foot of my statues, mourning me. I’m an idiot.”
“No. You’re not.”
“How come I never saw through it all? How come I didn’t understand it was all a lie? Nobody cared about me—nobody truly loved me. Otherwise, they would have stood beside me and not Aon when push came to shove.”
“I don’t know.” She squeezed his hand a little. “I don’t know them. I can’t even begin to fathom how you people think. But I guess…from what I can understand, they saw in Lydia a chance to be whole again. A chance to find peace after so much fear. And you were trying to take that away from them.”
“Because—”
“I know, I know. I’m not saying it was right. I’m not saying it was wrong. I wasn’t there. I’m not going to judge.”
Rxa sighed heavily behind her.
“I’ve seen what happens when people don’t believe there’s a future ahead of them. When they think their world is falling apart. They get desperate. They grasp at whatever straws they can find. And if what you say is true about Aon and his need to find someone to love him for the first time in his thousands and thousands of years…I’d have done a lot of stupid shit to protect that, too.”
“I suppose,” he grumbled behind her. “You’re supposed to be on my side, y’know.”
“Actually, I’m supposed to be very much not on your side.” She glanced at him. He was wearing his porcelain mask again, but it didn’t hide how despondent he was. “If you stopped this war of yours, if you called off the drengil, maybe things would be different.”
His posture changed. He straightened his back, and she was reminded of how impressive a figure he was, when he wasn’t slouched or had his shoulders curled in. “You’ll understand soon why this place needs to die.”
Shaking her head, she faced forward again. “Why are we here?”
“I want to rest. Think. Sleep in a real bed. Shower with hot water. I want to shampoo my damn hair. I need to finish healing before I take on Aon, Lydia, and Lyon. It will be three against one, even with my army. I had surprise on my side last time. This time, I won’t be nearly so lucky.”
“And you’ll be walking into a trap.”
“Exactly. Did Aon tell you anything of what he had planned for me?”
“Nothing except where they were going and where you had to be.”
“Of course. He knew I’d be able to get the information from you one way or another. He probably assumed I was going to torture you.”
“Why?”
“Because that’s what he would do.”
“I’ll preface this by saying I didn’t have many interactions with Aon.” She couldn’t help but stare at the statues as they passed by. They were…eerie. She remembered the statues from Gioll before the drengil and the Dread God. They reminded her of those. Soldiers guarding a past that was long gone. Tragic and mournful. “But.” She forced herself to focus on the conversation. “He didn’t seem that bad.”
Rxa snorted. “You’re mortal. He knew he couldn’t break you without angering Lyon.”
It was her turn to shrug. “Maybe. Or maybe he’s softened with Lydia at his side. People don’t change—I’m not that naïve. But maybe she’s keeping him in check. Or…he’s getting his aggressions out elsewhere.” She smirked.
“Getting fucked will do wonders for a man, I will give you that much. Oh! Maybe you can try that on me.” He poked her in the side playfully.
She jolted. “Knock that off.”
“Why?” He leaned into her back. “Is my little dove ticklish?”
She hesitated just a moment too long. “No.”
With a howl of a laugh, he hugged her. “Oh, you are too much fun! I can’t wait to strip you naked and tickle you until you beg for mercy.” He hummed. “And maybe I’ll give up on my quest for revenge if you blow me enough times.”
“Something tells me I’d distract you for a few weeks, and then you’d be right back marching your army to destroy the world.”
“I mean. It depends on how good you are.”
She elbowed him in the ribs. Hard.
“Ow. Stop hitting me!”
“Stop deserving it.” She grinned to herself.
Cricket neighed.
Rxa kicked the horse in the side. “Shut up, peanut gallery. Nobody asked you.”
Ember laughed. She wasn’t quite sure why. She let it hap
pen all the same. She wasn’t sure what this was between her and the demigod of the dead. It was wrong, it was confusing, but it was…comforting, all the same.
She had been the one to lie down at his side last night. She had been the one to put her head on his chest and listen to his heartbeat as she fell asleep. She was the one who had found solace in his embrace as they slept.
It had felt good.
Everything he did to her felt good.
That was the problem.
Fiddling with her necklaces, she ran her thumb over the symbol of the Grandfather. Silently, she prayed for his guidance and forgiveness.
“What’s wrong?”
“Hm?” She glanced at him.
“You play with your necklace when you’re troubled. What is it?”
“Nothing.” She sighed. It was a bad lie. She gave it up a second after she said it. “I was trained to be strong against pain and fear. Not…temptation.”
“Temptation?” He leaned his head close to hers, his mask brushing against her hair. “Do I tempt you?”
“Don’t ask stupid questions.”
He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to his chest. “You think you’re committing some kind of sin for admitting you enjoy what I can do to you.”
She didn’t fight him. She didn’t even stiffen at his touch. She should go rigid or find some way to break a branch off a tree and stab him with it. But she did none of those things. She just leaned against him and felt the warmth at her back. Smelled the sandalwood and incense that seemed to follow him around. She shut her eyes and hung her head in defeat. “I never realized I was so weak.”
She expected him to make a joke. Some kind of crack about how she should just give in to him and let him do what he wanted. Instead, he snarled angrily. “Horse. Stop.”
Cricket quickly obeyed.
Ember could only squeak as she was suddenly airborne. He had jumped off the horse and taken her with him. She suddenly realized how very strong he was. There was not a single thing she could do to stop him as he slammed her to the dirt hard enough that her vision spun for a moment.
He was straddling her waist, his hand fisted her hair, pinning her down. He was pointing at her with the other hand, already lecturing her. “Do not speak like that!”
Grave of Words (Fall of Under Book 2) Page 13