She was doing this on purpose—getting under his skin to annoy him—and she was good at it. But two could play this game.
“I’m not sure you’re the best judge of men since you’re so loyal to King Adler.”
“He’s my father. Aren’t you loyal to your father?” She gave him a look of mock pity. “Or has he disowned you because he’s ashamed of your life choices? Is he proud of the fact that he raised a kidnapper?”
“He would be proud of me if he was still alive. But King Adler killed my father in the war between Tolsten and Albion.”
“I don’t remember my father fighting in the war, so I’m pretty sure he didn’t kill your father.”
“You know what I mean.”
She hugged her knees tight to her chest. “Well, it looks like we have something in common, then. Both of us have lost a parent.”
He shrugged, ignoring her statement that they had something in common. It wasn’t a good idea to find commonalities with a prisoner, especially when he was trying not to like her.
“Wash up if you want. We’ll be leaving soon,” Winslow said as he walked past them. “I want to get a little farther before the sun goes down.”
Myka’s eyes followed after him. “Is the old man in charge of your group?”
“No. We’re all equals.”
“Then why is he the one calling all the shots?”
Drake shrugged. “Winslow likes to hear himself speak.” He stood and began tying the rope back around his belt. “We’ll wash up at the river,” he said, pulling the rope until she stood as well. He dragged her to the water, taking his shirt off on the way and throwing it behind him. He bent down and scooped up the cold water, dumping it over his head and chest. When he turned his head, he caught Myka standing there, watching him.
He smirked. “Enjoying the show?”
“Hardly.” She rolled her eyes. Then she dramatically peeled off her gray jacket and dropped it to the ground beside them. She wore the same white t-shirt and gray pants that she’d worn at Rommel’s house. A month ago, Drake had thought she looked cute in her strange clothes. Today, the clothes irritated him. She was like her father, ignoring the rules set in place by the Council of Essentials, even down to something as simple as the modesty guidelines. She bent over and threw water on her bare arms and face.
She turned her head to the side, with squinty eyes from the drips of water running into them. “Enjoying the show?” she said back to him.
Drake had been watching her, but not for the reasons she’d thought. He turned his focus away. “You’re not my type.”
If he told himself that enough times, maybe it would become true.
Myka scoffed. “That’s not how it seemed earlier.”
“You’re mistaken.” He splashed more water over his arms, trying to convince himself she was a job, a means to an end.
“There are riders outside of the trees,” Grady yelled to the group in a panic.
Drake grabbed the princess and shoved her against the trunk of a tree. He leaned his body into her so she couldn’t be seen, and his free hand went for the knife in his pocket.
“Hey, watch it!” She squirmed beneath him.
He dug the edge of his knife into her neck. “Not one word,” he whispered. “Or I’ll make sure you can never speak again.” The threat came out harsh, but if Tolsten soldiers were nearby, their entire plan would be ruined. He needed the princess to stay quiet, and the only way he was going to get her to do that was if she was scared that he might hurt her. Her breath caught as she eyed Drake’s knife. He glanced around at the other operatives with him. They hid behind trees and boulders with their guns drawn. Everyone waited in silence, straining to hear if the riders in the distance were coming for them. Winslow motioned for Grady and Dawsick to go ahead and assess the situation.
It wasn’t likely that the riders were from the Tolsten army. There was no way that they could have caught up to them, and even then, they would be on PTs, not horses. But Drake’s heart raced as he thought through different scenarios of how he would escape with the princess, if it came to that. He’d left his own gun back at his horse, a mistake he wouldn’t make again.
Grady and Dawsick stomped back through the tall grass. “It was nothing,” Grady said, shaking his long brown hair away from his face. “Just some men transporting goods.”
Winslow looked at Drake, and they had a shared moment of relief. “Let’s get on the road, then.”
The other men in their group began packing up, and Drake sucked in a deep breath as he watched them.
They were safe.
“Do you mind?” the princess sneered under him. “Your nipple is about to poke me in the eye.”
Drake dipped his chin down. His bare chest was pressed against her, and his nipple was, in fact, eye-level with her head—the insinuation that it was about to poke her in the eye was an exaggeration. She tilted her head up, her blue eyes challenging him like she thought it was fun to say something shocking. Drake had shock value he could use too. He pushed the edge of the knife into her neck even further as a warning. “Better my nipple than the knife.” He would never actually hurt her, but he needed to maintain a level of command.
Myka gave him a pointed look. “I enjoy having the knife pressed up against me more than your nipple. You have no idea how close I came to biting it off.”
Drake’s serious expression faltered. Had she really said that? Myka had surprised him, and that was saying a lot, considering who his best friend was. His lips twitched, and he pushed off the tree, turning away before she saw him break from his tough exterior into a smile.
“Let’s go,” he said. The rope pulled tight behind him, and he felt the exact moment she stumbled after him.
11
Myka
Every muscle in Myka’s body ached. The skin on her wrists was red and irritated from the rope, and the other rope tied around her waist dug into her side. She’d always wanted to see the countryside of Tolsten but not like this. Not tied up and riding on a horse with a man who was probably responsible for her father’s death. She looked around at the other men and wondered if any of them were as tired as she was. Surely Old ’n Slow Winslow was barely hanging on. She’d half expected him to keel over dead from such a strenuous ride. But he was still alive and well.
They traveled until the sun dipped low behind the barren landscape. The last specks of light fought hard against the evening sky. The group steered their horses into another thick canopy of trees, and Myka hoped this stop would be more than a bathroom break.
Drake pulled her off the horse, keeping his hands at her waist until her wobbly feet were stable. Her shirt and jacket rode up, making his warm fingers graze the skin at her hips. Their eyes met, and Myka tried to ignore the buzzing sensation his touch had caused. It was a ridiculous reaction born from being starved of normal young adult interactions. It was nothing specific to Drake Vestry. It couldn’t be. She hated the man.
When she had her footing, he straightened and pulled his hands back and began untying things from the side of his horse. She watched him unpack a bedroll before pulling out a gun and sliding it in the front of his pants under his shirt.
“If you are the commander of the Albion army, won’t they miss you back home?” she asked. “Or are you not that good at your job?”
He smiled like he thought her words humorous. “I’m very good at my job. So good that they need me here, fighting the biggest enemy of all.”
Myka pressed her lips into a slight frown. It was ridiculous that he thought of her father as the biggest enemy. “Are all of these men commanders in the other kingdoms?”
“That’s information that you don’t need to know.”
Myka pointed to Shaggy Hair. “He’s from Appa. I heard him talking about the Appalachian Mountains.” Then she pointed to BizzBuzz, the serious guy with the buzzed haircut. “He’s from Enderlin. He’s mentioned three times how Queen Emree used to be in love with him.” Then she pointed to Old ’n Slo
w Winslow. “He’s from Northland because he complained that he had the longest journey to get here.” Next, her eyes went to Horseface. “He’s from New Hope. I heard him talking about King Bryant. If you’re from Albion, that leaves Kase Kendrick, the man Winslow sent back to Denton, from Cristole.”
Drake eyed her. “Impressive.”
“So, then I asked myself how men from every kingdom would come together to kidnap the princess of Tolsten.”
“And what did you come up with?”
“That the Council of Essentials is behind my kidnapping. Except my father, of course.”
Drake nodded. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe you’re not.”
“And I heard Winslow call each of you an operative. You’re the Council Operatives, the Co-Ops, as I like to call you.”
His lips lifted into a smile, but he didn’t respond. He didn’t have to. Myka was right. She couldn’t believe all of the other kings were conspiring against her father. What kind of world did she live in?
Drake walked her away from the group and turned his back. “You have thirty seconds to go to the bathroom,” he said.
“A whole thirty seconds. How generous of you.”
“One, two, three—”
Myka scowled at him as she frantically started pulling down her pants. She was getting faster at these bathroom breaks. Stage fright had become a thing of the past. She looked down. “Well, that explains why my body feels so achy,” she said under her breath.
“Twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty,” he said, finishing counting, and then he started back to the campsite without even checking if she was done.
She lumbered after him as she buttoned her pants. “We have a problem,” she said.
“What’s that?” Drake asked, trudging back to where the horses were.
“I started my monthly cycle,” she announced loudly, eyeing the men circled together, building a fire. She wasn’t going to be embarrassed. This was their punishment for kidnapping a woman.
The men all froze.
“You what?” Drake said, tilting his head toward her.
“I. Started. My. Period.” She enunciated each word.
The men around the fire groaned.
“What do you want us to do about it?” Horseface asked.
“I need some feminine supplies. That’s what I want you to do about it.”
Shaggy Hair straightened. “Don’t you have something?”
Myka kicked her head back. “Why would I have something?”
“I don’t know, maybe because you had thirty days to prepare for this,” Shaggy Hair said, rubbing his forehead. “How are you not ready?”
“Hasn’t this been happening regularly for a couple of years now?” Winslow turned to Grady as if asking him.
Shaggy Hair shrugged. “I don’t know. It just seems like she should have been ready.”
Myka folded her arms over her chest. “You kidnapped me! How was I supposed to be prepared for an abduction? Unless one of you grabbed my backpack off of my horse.”
“We didn’t grab your backpack,” Drake said, pulling her away from the other men. “Come on.”
She glared at the men as she passed by. Did none of them have wives or sisters? They all acted like this was the first time they had ever been around a woman before. Drake led her to his horse and opened up the medic kit, handing her a large package of gauze. “I know this isn’t what you need, but it’s the best I can do until tomorrow.”
“Thanks,” she said, taking the supplies. At least one of the men wasn’t a complete jerk.
“And,” he handed her a small tube, “this is for your wrists. I noticed they were red from rope burn.”
He’d noticed that?
She tried not to read too much into it. Captors notice things about their prisoners. That’s what they’re trained to do. And besides that, her wrists wouldn’t be red if he hadn’t tied her up.
Myka looked at the tube then back up at him.
“Don’t worry. It’s not hemorrhoid medicine,” he said with a small smile.
“Thank you,” she said again, grabbing the tube from him. Their fingers touched, and her eyes darted to his. There was a quick moment where they both paused, like the seconds between them had stilled. Goosebumps ran down her arm, making her shiver.
She grabbed the tube and dropped her arm, pulling her jacket over her chest.
She shivered because she was cold.
That’s all.
They went into the trees again so she could take care of her business. When she came back, Drake threw out the bedroll onto the ground around the fire.
“You can sleep here,” he said, pointing to the make-shift bed.
Myka sunk to her knees, eager to rest.
He threw down an extra jacket. “You can use this as your pillow.”
She looked up at his empty hands. “What about your bedroll and pillow?”
“I only have the one.”
His kind gesture surprised her. Did captors usually give their bedroll to their prisoners? Myka didn’t know the protocol, but something told her that his kindness wasn’t typical.
“Thank you.”
He nodded and bent down, raking his hand over the dirt where he planned to lay. He picked up the larger rocks and sticks, throwing them off to the side. Myka recognized what he was doing and joined in, grabbing a large pine cone, throwing it behind them. It was the least she could do if Drake was giving up his sleeping gear to her.
“Thanks,” he muttered.
The entire exchange seemed odd, but she shook the feeling away.
Once the fire was going, the other men filled in around them. Old ’n Slow lay down next to her, and within seconds he started snoring.
Fabulous.
“Drake, are you going to make your move on the princess tonight?” Horseface asked from across the fire. “Or wait for a real bed?”
Myka hated him. Even more than Drake.
She closed her eyes, trying to ignore him, but she couldn’t ignore the anxiety bubbling inside of her.
“If you don’t do something,” Horseface continued, “I’ll take my turn. I’d be happy to get back at the little brat for biting me.”
“I would never allow anyone in this group to compromise the princess. It would jeopardize our entire mission. Besides, something tells me she’d bite off more than just your arm,” Drake said in response.
The men around the fire laughed, and Horseface shut up.
Myka opened her eyes, glancing at Drake. He was stretched out on his back with his arms folded across his chest and closed eyes.
“I didn’t know you were funny,” she whispered.
Drake peeked one eye open. “I have my moments.”
“Thank you,” she whispered. She seemed to be thanking her kidnapper a lot.
He nodded and then closed his eyes again.
Maybe Drake Vestry did have some human decency in him. He was following orders based on false information. The Council had painted her father all wrong, and that was the information Drake had to go by. Myka could give him a little grace based on that, but only a little.
12
Myka
Dawn broke through the skyline, sharpening the pink colors in front of them as they traveled. They had woken up early to get on the road before the sun came up. The sunrise should’ve meant something to Myka, like somehow a new day would make things better. She had survived the most terrible afternoon and night of her life, but the daybreak didn’t mean it was over. It only meant that another day of hell would begin.
Every once in a while, Myka would turn her gaze to the horizon behind her, wishing she could see a team of transporters chasing after them. Someone would find her. Her father would make sure of that. He was still alive; she felt it deep inside of her, and the hope that he wouldn’t give up until he found her was the only thing keeping her strong.
The flat terrain they’d been traveling on merged into rolling hills and thick woodlands. Myka tried to pay attention to the d
irections they traveled and landmarks they passed. To her right, off in the distance, was Lambeau Lake. Myka had seen parts of that lake when she’d traveled as a child with her parents, but she’d never been this far north before or seen the cement structure that protruded out of the middle of it.
“What’s that?” Drake asked, pointing out to the middle of the lake.
“That’s Lambeau Stadium,” she said.
Myka wondered if he had heard about Lambeau Stadium before, a giant arena built for sports in the pre-Desolation area known as Green Bay. Everyone in Tolsten knew about it. It was part of Tolsten’s pre-Desolation history. The stadium had been covered by water when the Great Lakes had tripled in size two hundred years ago. All that was left was one circular edge that stuck out of the water thirty feet into the air.
She made a mental note of that landmark. If she could somehow find a way to escape, she would head back in that same direction.
A few hours later, they stopped for a bathroom break, giving Myka another chance to be creative with the gauze, but the gauze wouldn’t last forever. She hoped they would arrive somewhere civilized soon. When she was all done, she stretched her back, trying to alleviate the stiffness in her muscles.
“Put this on,” Drake said, standing in front of her with a black cloth.
“What is it?”
“Your blindfold.”
Blindfold? She’d gone a day without wearing one.
He shifted his weight, letting out a frustrated breath. “Put it on.”
“Why now?”
“Because I said so.” He pulled on her shoulder, turning her around. His fingers brushed aside her hair, and Myka’s breath hitched, sending chills down her arms.
Did her body have to react every time he touched her? It was annoying.
All of a sudden, the cloth was over her eyes, making everything dark. “In a few hours, we’ll be at our camp,” Drake said.
“I’m not stupid. I know what direction we’ve been traveling in this whole time. I’m sure I could already tell the Tolsten army where to go.”
The Stolen Princess: A YA Dystopian Romance (Desolation Book 3) Page 11