CHAPTER 25
It wasn’t anywhere she knew.
Shaia kept her eyes almost closed, feigning unconsciousness as she took in her new surroundings. A fortress, but a forgotten one. The walls were broken in places, the pale grey stone crumbling to ashes and entire blocks fallen from their places, as if dragons had ravaged it or perhaps just the passing of time.
She squinted up at the dark sky, finding no trace of amber from the Devil’s fires.
The colour of the stone and the sky told her one thing.
She was still in the elf kingdom.
Watery sounds warbled in her ears and no matter how hard she tried to focus on them to turn them into words, her head refused to clear enough for it to happen. Her vision wobbled as she lay on her side on the cold ground, staring across the courtyard of the ancient fortress, past the bright glow of a fire to her left and the dark ring of a walled well to her right, to the arrow slit in the far wall.
She ached to look out of that narrow gap and see familiar lands so she would know where she was in the kingdom and could tell whether the males were taking her back to the village or not.
She didn’t remember there being a fortress like this one close to her home.
But why would the males take her further from Eirwyn if they had been hired by him to find her?
Part of her had expected to wake to find herself already in his company, trapped in his home, a slave to the male she had foolishly thought would give her some freedom.
Gods, she had been an idiot to go along with her family’s plans. She could see that now. She had been desperate though, worn down and lonely, and had truly believed that with Eirwyn she could continue to tend to a garden and pass her time in peace, rarely bothered by him and her parents.
Heavy thuds sounded close to her and her skin crawled as she felt eyes on her, and then the male moved on, saying something to the others.
Shaia stared at that slit in the wall opposite her.
She wanted to be home.
She focused, willing her portal, calling it to the surface so she could return to the place that had become that home.
Fuery.
Nothing happened.
Was it the drug? It still tainted her blood, making her head fuzzy.
She went to lift her hands to rub at that head.
Her wrists were so heavy she could barely shift them across the stones, and when she did, a distorted sort of scraping sound reached her ears.
She slowly opened her eyes all the way and looked down at her wrists.
Shackles.
They were thick, the metal dark and worn in places, speaking of years of use.
Enchanted.
Many species in Hell and the mortal world could teleport, or had powers that might prove dangerous to a band of mercenaries. They had used a witch to place a powerful spell on the cuffs. A spell that rendered her powers useless to her.
The same spell her parents had once dared to use on her.
A spell Eirwyn would no doubt employ too.
Everyone wanted to lock her in a cage and make her do what they wanted.
Well, she was done with it.
She was done with everyone trying to run her life, as if they knew what was best for her, as if she was a possession that should do as they bid and obey them without question.
She was done with everything.
Fuery had lit a fire in her forty-two centuries ago, and it had dwindled to a bare spark in their time apart, so much so that she had almost forgotten it had existed, but now it burned inside her again.
Blazed hotter than ever.
It was a furnace that fuelled her, had her formulating a plan as the three males who had taken her captive laughed around the fire and spoke with each other, their words becoming clearer as the haze of the drug began to lift, allowing her to catch words. Coin. Slave. Beautiful. Auction. Lordship. Waste.
They meant to threaten Eirwyn in order to get more money for her, painting a picture that they would sell her on the black market for more if he didn’t give them what they wanted.
A life spent at Eirwyn’s mercy was preferable to one where she was kept in chains and bought by whatever sick sort of person attended the slave markets.
But neither was going to happen.
She was going to escape.
She was going to be free again. Free to live her life the way she wanted, as the female Fuery had awoken in her, one that made her feel alive.
These males weren’t going to sell her to a slaver, and Eirwyn wasn’t going to take her. Neither were an option for her, because both would threaten the future she wanted—one with Fuery at her side.
He would come for her, and slavers ran in large troupes, filled with powerful demons and immortals, and Eirwyn had connections to commanders at the palace and would call a legion to protect him.
She couldn’t let Fuery fight for her, because if that happened, he would lose—not the battle against a paltry legion of elf warriors or a small army of immortals and demons, but the battle against his darkness.
That much violence would be his end, and she knew in her heart that neither her nor Hartt would be able to bring him back.
Gods, it would be a vicious enough blow if he discovered what had happened to her.
His need as her ki’aro would drive him to find her and would tear him apart as it did it, filling his mind with all the terrible things that could be happening to her.
She had to get back to him before he discovered she had been captured.
Shaia tilted her head and eyed the three males around the small fire, their conversation growing clearer still as her vision stopped fluctuating between sharp and fuzzy. The drug. She swore she could feel it leaving her system, and her strength returning with it.
“It will not be long now,” the largest of the males, the one who had darted her, rumbled and swirled a pewter mug of something around in his hand, his eyes on it.
“I still think we would make more for her if we took her to the free realm. They pay a pretty price for pretty elves there.” This one sounded younger than the others, and she singled him out as the slimmest of the group, a male who stood a good few inches shorter than his companions.
His black cloak swamped his slender figure, wrapped tight around him with one arm while his other hand rested on the sword strapped to his waist.
Weapons.
She was going to need some if she was going to escape. She doubted she had the skills to take theirs from them, which meant she was going to need to get enough of her powers back to be able to teleport a blade to her.
When her parents had held her captive in her room using a spell that had stopped her from teleporting out, she had eventually been able to teleport items to her, things she owned.
She focused on her hands, and on the blade Fuery had given her. Her fingers tingled and she felt the link between her and the dagger open, and her heart soared.
It plummeted a moment later when the link wavered and died, leaving her empty-handed.
Shaia cursed the shackles.
They were inhibiting her powers more than she had anticipated. If she wanted her blade, she was going to have to convince one of the males to remove the cuffs from her wrists. It was a long shot. They would laugh at her if she asked them to do such a thing.
She studied the shackles in secret, trying to keep her movements to a minimum so the males didn’t notice, and smiled to herself when she found the same inscription carved into both.
Two separate spells.
If she convinced them to remove one of her cuffs, it might be enough to allow her to bring a blade to her. She just had to hope that one cuff would be enough to stop her from teleporting, so the males would think it would be safe to unlock one of them and wouldn’t suspect anything.
It was a risk though.
To convince them, she was going to have to play a dangerous game.
One of them had called her beautiful.
She was going to have to play on that.
She moaned for effect as she pushed herself up, catching the males’ attentions. The youngest’s gaze followed her every move as she raised her hands, her eyes widening as she looked at her cuffs, and then brushed her long wavy hair from her face as best she could.
The third male, one whose face she hadn’t caught yet, nudged the younger male forwards. “Go check on her.”
He nodded, rounded the fire under the watchful gaze of the leader of the group, and approached her.
Shaia rubbed her hands over her drab tunic and pulled a face as she spotted a tear in the material, and then skimmed her fingers over her hands.
“What happened?” she whispered, her eyes enormous as she lifted them to the male as he halted before her and eased into a crouch. “Am I a prisoner?”
He shook his head, only enough that it moved beneath his hood, as if he didn’t want his companions to see it, and spoke in a low, quiet voice. “We are waiting for your intended.”
Intended.
She wanted to growl at that.
She held it back and looked herself over again, paying close attention to her dirty hands and then lifting them to her face. “I must look awful.”
He shook his head again, his eyes brightening as he ran them over her, as if he couldn’t stop himself. His pupils blew wide, devouring the violet of his irises, as she pushed her tangled hair behind her ear to reveal the pointed tip and accidentally brushed it with her fingers.
Her whole body shook in response, fear rising to get the better of her for a brief heartbeat of time before she managed to squash it. She was strong. She could do this. It was the only way to get free before Fuery discovered she was gone and foolishly came after her, placing himself in grave danger.
She could do this to spare him.
Save him.
She slowly lowered her hands to her chest and looked there at the dirt that coated her exposed collarbones.
“I need to wash.”
Those words leaving her lips snagged the male’s focus away from her breasts and had his eyes shooting up to meet hers.
Her eyebrows furrowed. “I am a mess, I know it. I need to bathe.”
“No.” The leader didn’t even look at her.
She switched her focus to him.
His square jaw set hard, the muscle in it popping, and he stared at the fire. He was going to be difficult to convince. She had almost won the younger male over, but now he was looking at his leader, the flare of desire in his eyes fading. Damn it.
What else had they mentioned that she could use to her advantage?
Coin.
She gestured to her body, drawing the young one’s focus back to it, pulling him under her spell again as she spoke to his leader.
“I am sure Eirwyn will be inclined to pay more for my return if I was presentable. Perfect.” She tugged at the chest of her tunic. “He will hardly recognise me like this.”
The older male didn’t move, didn’t even glance at her.
She had to convince him.
Her eyes widened as it hit her.
She fingered the rip in her tunic.
“He might hold you responsible for my appearance.” She held her smile inside when the male finally looked at her. “If he believes you have harmed me in any way…”
“Just get her clean,” the male barked. “If only to shut her up. Females.”
The younger elf was quick to grasp her left arm and haul her onto her feet.
He led her away from the other two males, beyond the sphere of the light of the fire, into the shadows, and stopped at the wall of the well. It ran at waist-height to her around the deep pit.
“Undress,” he muttered as he released her and shoved the wooden pail over the edge, letting it plummet into the well.
It took a long time to hit the water.
The sound echoed up to her as she bent and removed her boots. She set them aside and slowed as she felt the male’s eyes come to rest on her as he hauled the bucket back up, his actions slowing as he followed every move her hands made. She pretended she hadn’t noticed him as she carefully removed her trousers, tugging them down her legs, her hands shaking a little as she revealed her thighs to him.
The feel of his gaze on her grew more intense as she reached her calves and stepped out of them.
He set the bucket down on the thick wall of the well, the sharp sound of it startling her into looking at him. Her eyes leaped to his, her breath coming faster as adrenaline surged and fear began to rise again, slipping beyond her control.
He jerked his chin towards her top.
Shaia sucked down a secret breath, hoping to still the nerves that raged out of control the moment she thought about doing as he bid. It did nothing to calm them. Her fingers trembled as she gripped the hem of her tunic and went to lift it.
She lowered it again and looked at the male.
“The shackles.” She held her hands out to him. “I cannot remove my tunic while I wear them.”
He eyed them and growled. “Not going to happen. They stay on.”
“But…” She made a show of trying to remove her tunic while wearing them, flashing her undergarments and her belly before screwing her face up in frustration and letting the material drop again. “It is impossible. Just one. I will not be able to go anywhere, will I?”
He dumbly shook his head, his eyes still locked on her stomach, pupils so wide there was barely a sliver of violet in them.
She backed off when he advanced on her, and tensed when her bottom hit the wall of the well and he crowded her, his thighs brushing hers as he took hold of her wrists. His hands were cold on her bare forearms, sending a chill through her together with the way he pressed against her.
She wanted to break free of him but found the strength to stand her ground and bear it as he intentionally rubbed against her as he leaned to one side to pull a set of steels from his pocket. He unwrapped the leather holder, taking his time about it, his hips pressing close to hers, groin rubbing her thigh. She swallowed and held her trembling hands out to him, and breathed through her fear as he took hold of her right wrist and began to work on the shackle.
When it was free of the cuff, he snatched it in a bruising grip before she could move a millimetre. “Behave yourself.”
His eyes lowered to her chest and he remained pressed close to her as he pocketed his set of steels. His tongue poked out, traced over his lips to wet them, and she could almost feel his hunger as it rose within him.
“Let’s get this off you then.” He lowered his hand, flattened his palm against her hip and coursed it up over her stomach and breasts, heading towards the collar of the tunic.
Shaia closed her eyes and struggled to focus as fear swamped her, born of both what he was doing and what she was about to do.
Sickness brewed in her stomach, turning it over and over. The male could easily kill her. She had to do it though. It was her only choice.
It was him or her.
She focused on her shackled left hand where it hung limp beside her, close to the male’s hip, and it tingled as the connection between her and her blade opened. The link was stronger than before and she put all of her strength into calling the dagger to her hand.
The male gripped the neck of her tunic and yanked hard, pulling her towards him as the material tore.
Bitter disappointment flashed in his eyes as he saw the bandages binding her breasts.
The blade materialised in her hand.
She drove it hard into his side and swiftly covered his mouth with her free hand, muffling his cry.
He went down hard, taking her with him, and she closed her eyes as she pulled the blade free of his flesh, the wet sucking sound and the resistance turning her stomach, and plunged it down into his chest with all of her strength, punching through his ribs and into his heart.
He instantly stilled beneath her.
She sagged against him, breathing hard, her hands shaking violently where they gripped the hilt of the dagger.
“Bitch!” the second male snarled.
Shaia snapped her head up, her eyes locking straight on his as he shot to his feet beside the fire, and the leader rose beside him.
She eased back into a crouch, pulling the blade free as she went, and eyed them both.
Her heart steadied.
The trembling stopped.
It was them or her.
She couldn’t back down now, she couldn’t let fear overcome her. She had to fight.
She had to fight for the future she wanted with Fuery.