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“Aye,” snapped one of them, marching out the open stable door.
Erlik hauled me to my feet. I stumbled, but he didn’t slow down, shoving me into a small, empty stall. “Watch her,” he growled to one of the other warriors as he slammed the gate closed.
I slid to the ground, pressed my back against the wooden wall, and curled my knees up, winding my bound wrists around them. Shivering from nausea and fear and shock, I kept quiet and listened.
The Borderlands separated Northgall from Lumeria, the dark and light fae territories. There were taverns and inns along this barren region between the two kingdoms where both light and dark fae traveled. They obviously kept me hidden in case there happened to be any of my own kind about.
My captors wandered close by inside the stables. I heard another voice that sounded much younger speaking demon tongue and then some horses being led away. It must’ve been the stable boy.
“This’ll be the end then,” said the one I recognized as Erlik.
“If King Connall knows what’s good for him,” said the deeper voice of the leader.
“Will King Xakiel give her back when he’s done with her, you think?”
“He plans to send pieces of her to her father, one at a time until Connall surrenders Lumeria,” said their leader. “We know our sire’s appetites. He’ll spoil her thoroughly for the marriage bed first. They may not want what’s left of her once they finally sign the accord.”
There was a round of laughter. Acid churned in my belly. I closed my eyes and bit down on the rope in my mouth, wishing I couldn’t hear them heartlessly laughing about my sad fate. Knowing the king’s plans for me made it worse.
If I could get hold of a weapon, I could kill myself first. Then they couldn’t bargain for my freedom. Then my brother wouldn’t be forced to surrender and our people crushed beneath the brutality of Northgall.
I focused on calming my breaths, barely listening as someone returned with food and they ate loudly. After a time, I heard the door to my stall opening, jolting me to attention.
“What the fuck are you doing, Geylan?” asked Erlik.
“Giving her food,” he answered, apparently the lowest in hierarchy among them.
“No food,” said the leader. “She’ll vomit it up on the ride. Just water.”
“If she tries to scream, hit her,” added Erlik.
My gut tightened as the younger warrior entered with a hide flask. He was no less intimidating in appearance, towering over me as he entered. I remained still as he knelt on one knee and set the flask on the hay.
“Lean forward,” he said, pointing to the rope in my mouth. “And don’t scream when I remove it.”
I held his gaze as I eased forward, allowing him to loosen the rope. I whimpered with relief when I could close my mouth, the tender skin had been rubbed raw.
“Here.” He lifted the flask to my mouth.
I drank until I spluttered and coughed.
He sat back on his heel. “Easy. Take a breath.”
He didn’t smile, but there was sympathy in his yellow eyes when he looked at me. That was unexpected. I knew he didn’t feel so sorry for me he’d help me escape, but maybe…
“Another sip?” He raised the flask.
I nodded, noting that he wore many blades in different sheaths around his waist and across his chest. There was a slender one tucked into the front of his wide belt.
When he helped me drink, he was still too far away for me to reach it. After the third sip, he asked, “Enough?”
I nodded again. He set the flask down and leaned closer to retie the gag. I eased forward, pretending to help him reach. It was just enough to allow me the distraction and space I needed.Slowly, I reached up—wrists still bound—and slipped the small dagger free.
“What are you--?” He leaned back, frowning down at his belt.
Gripping tight with both hands and sending a prayer to the goddess, I thrust the blade toward my throat.
“No!” He swiftly closed his clawed hand around my fisted fingers, stopping me as the blade’s tip scraped my skin.
