“Maruk said Otaso stole me. Killed everyone. Is that true?”
“You demand answers of me now?”
“Yes! Tell me the truth. I’d know before you kill me.”
“Fine,” Er’it said with a groan, falling back to hook his elbows over the edge of the cart. “If the history in his books is even half the truth, he murdered an entire kingdom and took you for his own. A note scribbled in one of them says he did not sacrifice you there despite his Vizier’s urgings because you held a greater purpose.”
“More… more of whatever that is. What’s inside of me, what you want.” Aida nodded, grief stricken as she turned her gaze out into the dark forest. Eyes narrowing as she stared. “It was because of me they all died.”
“He would have done it regardless, Lady,” Ath’asho murmured.
“Does that matter?” Aida scoffed, finding her tears dried up, as useless as they’d ever been. Her misery never mattered, her pain as unimportant as the dirt they ground beneath their feet.
None of them should have what they wished of her. If it meant so much death, so much pain, she should find a way to kill herself now. End it all before he had his chance to steal it away.
“What are you thinking kou’va?” He was beside her, fingers delving into Aida’s hair to force her to meet his gaze again. The golden bronze of his eyes thrown into shadow where his brows met over the bridge of his nose. He scrubbed the pads of his fingers against her scalp, an odd, tender gesture from one that found cruelty so easy.
She couldn’t hate him. What she’d said to Maruk was true, that he made her feel in ways she’d never dreamed possible. Er’it made her feel alive. As if she’d been drowning her entire life, and it was he who dragged her from the very depths of the Abyss to take her first true breath. It didn’t matter that he hurt her doing it, because she never would have felt that, either. Not that way. Thoughts a confused and jumbling mess, she shook her head in slow display of sympathy for what was to come.
“That if they are here for me, I will go with them,” Aida whispered, unable to hide her truth with him so close. Not with the warm, musky cedar of him invaded her every sense and his gentle touch cradling her skull. In that moment, she would have promised him much, so she was glad when he tensed. Wrenching away and tearing her hair free.
The men ambled from the inky depths between the trees without a sound, surrounding the cart. They gave the sounds of hammering and sparking fires a momentary glance, their smiles easy despite the risk of half a dozen men rushing to their king’s aid.
“No, Kal,” Aida murmured, smoothing her hand down the silken neck of the Phylix. Stopping him from charging towards the dangerous men.
Tall and broad, bigger even than Ath’asho stepped free of the tight ring. His smile was different. Quirked at the corners, full lips held a secret only he knew. Laughing eyes the deep blue of twilight took in the scene before he swept his arm out to the side and bowed at the waist.
“I understand I’m in the presence of royalty. Will make this much more interesting for sure,” he said, hand dropping to the pommel of this sword when Ath’asho shifted his weight. “I’d hate to kill a king, of course. People need them. Keeps them happy, you see.”
“Please don’t hurt them!” Aida gripped the wooden planks hard, the flaw in her plan revealed.
Er’it snarled under his breath, the lilting flow nothing short of a curse as his hand withdrew from Aida’s back as if burned. Looking over her shoulder, she found him rubbing his palm against his leg. Just as Otaso had accused her of, and Er’it before, she’d stolen his power. Made him weak in his moment of need. Weight of the Abyss sucking at her soul, she turned to the man with the pale skin and golden red hair plaited tight to a half-shorn skull.
“The others are taking what they will from your camp, but seems you’re traveling terribly light,” the man said, clucking his tongue in disapproval. “Perhaps there’s more on your person… or hers.”
“I have furs and a crate of apples,” Aida said, wondering how her voice remained so smooth and calm. She ignored Ath’asho’s hissed warning and the way Er’it stood to loom over her.
“All your females speak for you?”
“You will not—”
“Eh, I prefer her voice any road. Come, little Lady. What else might you have to make it worth my while, hm?”
“Me.”
“Stop this at once, you stupid bitch,” Er’it shouted at the back of her head, grabbing her arm though he was swift to let go when that touch alone caused him to stumble.
“I said I preferred her voice,” the man said, eyeing Kal with a quirked brow as the Phylix snorted and huffed, looking between Aida and Er’it. “Speak out of turn and you’re dead.”
“Hurt any of them and not only do you not get me, I’ll be the end of you,” Aida said, sinking back onto her heels. Hands clasped in demure repose upon her lap, she strained for the calm façade she had so much practice in.
“All set,” another man called from further up the trail. Bags draped over the hindquarters of his horse, they chimed and tinkled with their bounty. More riders appeared behind him, each of them burdened by no less than three sacks stuffed full. Beyond, Er’it’s warrior laid upon the ground, ankles tied to wrists and fast asleep.
“Swear to me you will not hurt them, and I will come with you.” Aida took a measured breath, wishing she had something other than the destruction and desolation of the Abyss to pray to that this would work. Perhaps
