Marcus moved beside me and lay on his back, his arm pressed up against me. “Rest, Cheyenne. Things will look different in the morning.”
The saturation of sleep came without my consent. I would rest, and I was sure that tomorrow would look differently—it would be bleaker and darker. I felt that twinge of the unknown stirring once again in the depths of me. That thing I couldn’t describe, but knew to be filled with nightmares yet unseen.
Callon, Colt and Daniel floated through the haziness of my dreams. Just twenty-four hours ago, I’d been with them. I had everything I needed right in front me, and I hadn’t even seen it until now. Destiny was once again toying with me, showing me what I could have, but never would.
A loud cracking of the fire woke me, and I jumped. I rolled over and peered out the open tent flap as night hovered over the camp. I was alone.
Shadowy figures moved around the fire, one of which was Maes. As if on cue, his head turned towards me. We stared across the darkness, my bitterness reignited. He rose and quickly came to the tent flap.
“May I come in?” Maes asked quietly.
I didn’t reply as I rolled away from him. He’d enter either way, I was sure.
He released a heavy sigh and sat down beside me. “I understand your anger, Cheyenne.” His French accent rolled across his tongue. “I would have felt betrayed as well.” He shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t expect you to forgive me, mon espoir, as I have no right to ask for it.” He moved slightly. “I can only hope that you believe in me as I believe in you.”
He grasped my fingers and placed his ruby-stoned necklace there.
“This is yours, forever and always.”
I tried to drop the stone, but he wouldn’t let me. Why was he doing this to me? It was a false hope. I was trapped, and there was nothing anyone could do about it. If I fled, my guardians would die. If I stayed, I’d barely survive…
He left the tent when I remained still. Why did it have to be this way?
All of this—the fighting, the killing—was over who was right and who was wrong. It was a blood feud, plain and simple. Marcus had murdered my father because my father had murdered his. Callon and the others were fighting because their own clan had suffered at his hand, too. It didn’t even matter who started it. There would be no end unless I did something to stop it, but how?
My mind whirled for a solution but found none.
I turned towards Marcus’s voice at the entrance of the tent. The sun had risen, and he was crouching by the flap. Moving closer, he placed a bag in front of me. “I got some clean clothes for you and other items. We’ll be leaving soon.”
I didn’t reply, but I grasped the bag as I sat up.
He exited and zipped the entrance closed.
I opened the bag and pulled the contents out. A pair of jeans, shirt, underwear, and personal hygiene items were before me. He’d gone into my room and picked things out…
I left the swimsuit on as I changed and slipped the clean clothes over the top. There was a brush and hair bands I used to comb through my tangled mess of hair and secure it in a ponytail. The morning air was cool, and I pulled the long-sleeved shirt on as well. I threw the dirty clothes in the bag, unzipped the tent and stepped out. Marcus was waiting a few steps away.
He locked his fingers around my wrist and pulled me forward. “I think you caused enough excitement yesterday. Let’s try and behave today, shall we?”
I pretended I wasn’t listening.
We went over to the horses, and I realized the camp had already packed up and was waiting on me. We approached Maes, and I stared at the ground. I’d put his ruby necklace in my pocket. I couldn’t bring myself to wear it, but neither could I throw it away again. I had to hold on to something when everything looked so bleak.
Marcus and Maes began speaking in French. I wished I’d listened to my father about taking the courses, but I’d refused because I didn’t think it’d be useful. I only knew a few words he’d taught me, but I caught enough to know we were traveling through a mountain pass. The word dangerous had come up too.
I glanced at the waiting men. It made sense to travel through the backcountry with such a large group. Customs would’ve been a nightmare, for one thing.
A twig snapped, and I looked around. The three Trackers from the night before were back at my side. The blond Tracker was frowning, meaning to frighten me. I flashed him a bored look and turned away. He would have to try harder than that.
“Ryder!” Maes growled. He pushed him back and began speaking in French. At least now I knew his name. Not that it mattered. Ryder still shot me dark looks, until Maes barked something, and he slunk away with his companions.
Marcus nodded at Maes before he took me to his horse. We mounted simultaneously; apparently Marcus felt the need to ensure I didn’t get away from him, regardless of the fact his army surrounded us.
He pinned both my hands together, before he wound a thick cord around them. He held so tight, I knew if I showed even a bit of resistance, he’d snap both my wrists without hesitation.
“This is just a bit of insurance. No more falling trees or flying boulders. Just a nice, quiet mountain ride. You did tell me you loved those.”
I stared at the ground.
I was truly a prisoner now.
Chapter 19
The high mountain ranges towered in the distance, while the valley spread out before us, its edges flanked with forest. This trip was going to take some time—time I desperately needed.
We’d been riding for hours, and I was growing uncomfortable. The men were also growing edgy. They were checking our surroundings more often and fiddling with their weapons. They were waiting for something.
“This hurts, Marcus.”
“You should have thought of this before you knocked a tree into the river.”
“I didn’t do it!” I snapped. “And anyway, if you’re so convinced it was me, why didn’t you stop me?”
“Because by then you’d already crushed a few Trackers,” he replied. “Now stop squirming and enjoy the scenery.”
I rested my hands on the saddle, watching the trees. I tried to think of other things, particularly of my guardians. I wanted to believe that they were still alive, but without proof, and with Marcus’s army surrounding me, it was hard to keep my faith. Still, the thought of them dead would truly finish me off. My life had become a black vortex, which sucked in everything and left a whirlwind of destruction in its path.
I wiggled my wrists, attempting to ease the discomfort of the cord. Marcus saw the movement and scowled. Thinking I was trying to free myself, he smashed my wrists into the saddle horn. I screamed as pain shot up my left arm. My left wrist flopped aside, and I sucked in a breath.
“Damn it, Cheyenne, I told you to behave! I didn’t want you to get hurt today,” Marcus snapped.
“Then stop treating every breath I take as an attempt to escape!” I retorted. “Are you that stupid? What could I do? Where would I go?”
The pain was growing, feeding my fury. I was shaking, trying to contain my emotions, while the valley under our feet began rumbling. The earth was mirroring my emotions. Marcus loosened his grip, shouting orders at his men. That was the distraction I needed. I pulled free from his clutches and crashed to the ground. Pain meant nothing as I closed my eyes and focused on directing all my anger into the land. I was a fuming volcano, the pressure building inside, about to explode. The cord binding my hands couldn’t contain my fury, and it snapped like a rubber band stretched too tight. They believed I was a weapon, a power they could wield to destroy the clans. I was more than willing to give them an example here and now.
“Break her concentration!” Maes yelled. “Do it now!”
Trees echoed in the background as they began to fall, and the horses whinnied in fear. I pressed my limp wrist to my chest and poured out more rage at what Marcus had done to my life.
“Cheyenne!” Marcus hollered. “Stop!”
I heard his words, but they fel
l on deaf ears. My parents’ death, being forced to live in fear, the brokenheartedness, the despair, the utter and complete awareness that I’d always be alone. The betrayal from Matt, from Marcus, and the sheer undeniable rage that Callon, Colt and Daniel may very well be dead.
I was yanked from the ground by my forearms. Marcus’s steely eyes bored into mine. He threw my right arm behind my back, forcing our hands together. Prying my fingers apart, he forced our rings to touch. A surge of electricity shot through my limbs, cutting off my link to the earth.
I stopped breathing.
His left hand wrapped around me and locked into my hair, holding my head steady as his lips hovered over mine. I could only stare back, terrified.
His ring had the same effect on me as Callon’s…that overwhelming, intoxicating feeling. The pain in my wrist dimmed slightly, and the ground ceased its violent shaking. If he wasn’t holding me upright, I’d have crumpled to the floor. How was this possible…why did his ring bring forth the same electricity?!
“Look at me, Cheyenne,” Marcus rumbled.
“No,” I whispered, pressing my eyes closed.
“You can feel it, can’t you?”
“Feel what? Your body crushing me? A broken wrist?” I wasn’t going to admit to it—I couldn’t.
“You know what I’m talking about. You feel the bond between us, and you’re trying to hide it,” he said.
“Let me go!”
“Open your eyes and tell me you don’t feel it!”
I opened my eyes. A silken black lock of his hair draped over his left eye. His lips were dangerously close.
“I…feel…nothing.”
The pain in my wrist came back to life with a vengeance. I sucked in a shaky breath as he loosened his grasp and turned me around. Maes stepped closer, and I stared at the valley floor as he examined my wrist.
Marcus’s arm snaked around my waist, pinning my arm down and securing me to his chest. Another set of hands grasped my forearm, and Maes twisted it back into place.
A groan left my lips, and I clamped my teeth together to endure the pain. I inhaled as Maes began wrapping my arm in a temporary splint. That familiar dull ache returned to my head, but at least using my powers hadn’t completely incapacitated me this time. From under heavy lashes, I saw that the redheaded Tracker was holding on to my forearm. He was being unusually gentle, and for a moment I thought a flicker of sympathy crossed his eyes.
As Maes finished, Marcus turned me around. His hands remained on my arms.
“I…didn’t want to hurt you, Cheyenne.”
I didn’t reply but looked out over his shoulder. His army surrounded us, yet it was silent. They were intent on hearing every word.
“I want what we had before,” Marcus went on. “The friendship, the…”
“It won’t ever be,” I hissed. “What we had before was based on mutual trust, and you shattered it.”
“But we have the rings.”
“You wield them over me just like Callon does. You use it to manipulate my feelings to get what you want. It won’t ever be real. You can’t force your feelings upon another, Marcus. It has to grow of its own free will.” Even Callon was starting to finally realize that.
“Jahlem,” Marcus called out. The redheaded Tracker appeared, his head bowed. “A canteen and two blue pills from my pack.” Jahlem disappeared. Marcus released me, and I pressed my hand towards my chest as we waited. Jahlem returned quickly with the items. I shrank away. “I’m not trying to sedate you,” Marcus said quietly. “Let them ease your pain.”
My wrist continued to throb. There was no point in being stubborn; it would make it harder to escape later. I took the pills and downed them quickly.
We re-mounted his horse, but he didn’t attempt to hold my hands this time around. Instead, he loosely held the reins, as I had no choice but to rest my arms over the top of his. We rode until dusk, and then stopped to make camp.
Maes helped me dismount. The entire day he’d remained in his human form walking beside us, his eyes continually drifting towards me. It was as if he was afraid Marcus would harm me again. Or was it something else?
I was taken to a large fire in the center of camp, where another tent had been erected close by. I sat on the valley floor and placed my back against the hefty log. I began unwrapping my healed wrist, tossing the bandages into the flames. I twisted it a few times, working out the stiffness, as Maes knelt before me. He reached out, inspecting the joint. The palm of his hand swallowed up mine. He could very easily crush it…yet his touch was nothing but gentle.
“It seems to have healed well, Cheyenne,” Maes said. “I’m sorry it was broken in the first place.” His jade-rimmed eyes were full of sadness.
“Yeah,” I mumbled as I drew my hand back. “We’re all sorry about something.” I stared into the flames. He remained still for a moment, almost as if he were pondering something, but then he left. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched him disappear into the darkness.
I was alone at the fire tonight, alone and grateful. Low murmurs were all I could hear nearby. Entranced by the flames, I lay my head on my knees. What I wouldn’t give to have a warm hug from Colt, Callon or Daniel. I needed strength, I needed determination…I needed the love of my family to surround me and get me through this.
Footsteps neared, and a worn black case was set beside me. I sighed and looked up. Marcus was sitting across from me. I glanced down at the case. It was the guitar Callon had left for me at the rental—a gift from my guardians.
Matt knew me well enough to know I’d find comfort in playing it, but Marcus was the brute that had taken everything that I loved. I didn’t want to share this secret place with him, although I already had unknowingly…
I remained still as he waited for me to pick up the guitar and play. I was torn inside. I had so many emotions raging through my head and heart needed their release, so many frustrations that had built up needed to escape. Just as Callon had, he was using my weakness against me.
I snorted. What did it matter anyway? I’d play just for me, to clear out the cluttered thoughts and feelings that needed healing. So what if Marcus could hear me?
My trembling fingers reached out and unlatched the case. Before I had the chance to take the guitar out, Maes stepped in and handed it to me. I accepted the guitar silently and placed it across my legs. I strummed the notes quietly, listening to each one. I closed my eyes as I began to play.
I never knew what would come out. I just allowed my heart to take over. Every note came from my soul. All the despair, betrayal and defeat washed out before me. It was the misery of not knowing whether my guardians were still alive. The disappointment of my parents as they watched from above. The hurt in realizing that I was just a weapon to Callon and Marcus, and the knowledge that I’d never be with Colt again.
I had no idea how much time had passed before I stopped. With the last note, I locked away all those emotions. I strummed my last chord and inhaled a shaky breath before opening my eyes. A few tears slipped down my cheek as I stared at the guitar in my lap.
When I looked up again, I blinked. I was completely surrounded by the Tracking party. Marcus’s gaze was cast on the worn guitar case. Maes was beside me, his eyes downcast.
I leaned forward, slipped the guitar back inside the case, and latched it closed. Without making further visual contact with anyone, I headed towards my tent. The crowd parted, clearing a path for me. I pulled the tent doors closed and zipped them shut. I lay on the bedroll and stared at the tent walls. Slowly the shadows merged into the night, and I let myself be wrapped in silence.
My mind wandered to my guardians. The love I felt for them, the peace I now realized they’d brought me. How much of a fool I’d been, wanting my freedom so much, and not noticing that everything I truly needed was right under my nose. When would I ever learn things the easy way? Why did it always have to be so difficult before I’d see the truth?
I knew Maes and Marcus sat not more than twenty yards
away, but it remained calm and quiet. Soon I drifted into a restless sleep.
I wandered through the darkness that lay dormant in the pit of my stomach. The unknown thing that wanted to emerge and take over. It almost had when I’d summoned the windstorm. An overwhelming feeling of despair and hatred seemed to gnaw at my soul, wanting for my defenses to crack.
A hand clasped my mouth, jolting me awake. I tried to scream when a whisper drifted in my ear. “Cheyenne! Don’t move!”
Daniel! Daniel was here with me. My heart soared. I struggled to turn around. Tears of joy began to run down my cheeks.
“Be still,” Daniel said next to my ear. “I’m going to jump you out of here. If we get separated, run towards the forest. They’re waiting for you.”
My heart was racing.
Outside, hurried footsteps neared. The tent shook, and the door was ripped open as Daniel and I disappeared. We stumbled slightly. He readjusted his grip, and voices around us snapped to life.
“Over here!” one yelled, and we jumped further into the tent city.
We bounded from one tent to another, confusing the Trackers chasing us. They tried to grab onto me, only managing to skim my clothing. I latched onto Daniel and practically hugged him as we jumped, trying to avoid any other physical contact.
We stopped for a moment; Daniel was getting tired. The confusion around us grew in the darkness, and we hid behind an empty tent. Daniel inched towards the edge to peek around the corner.
“We’re going to have to go further west before we circle around and head east towards Callon and Colt. Marcus planned well, even down to arranging his tents to make it difficult for me. He’s trying to barricade us in.”
The sharp pain in my back flared to life, followed by low growls—the Tresez were near. I shook, terrified we might not make it out together. I had to help out somehow. “Let me clear away the tents.” I could do this if I concentrated.
“No, then they’ll know exactly where we are. I’ll get us out of here, Cheyenne.”
“Okay.”
We jumped several more times. The wind whipped past us, and I saw flashes of shadows gaining ground. We paused for half a second, almost at the perimeter, when I was ripped from Daniel’s side.
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