She bent forwards and buried her face in her knees. Her matted hair fell to cover the sides of her face as she fought the wave of pain that followed those images, as the guilt churned like acid inside her as fiercely now as it had that day when he had died.
It was all her fault.
Darkness seethed inside her, gaining ground as she sank into the past and her regrets, as she cursed herself for recklessly following him and her father, believing she could help her twin.
She breathed through the hurt, the rage, fighting to calm her mind in the same way she always did whenever the past tried to overwhelm and break her. It was difficult, but she managed to force her focus to the future, kept telling herself she couldn’t change the past. She could only change herself so she never made the same mistake again.
And she had changed herself.
She had honed herself into a blade, one forged in this fiery crucible of pain and torment.
A blade she would use to cut down any who stood in her way.
The tendrils of darkness writhed more viciously inside her, tangled around her limbs and made her fingers cold. She pressed them into her bare knees, didn’t flinch when her nails pierced her flesh. Focused on the pain. Sank into that darkness, embracing it. It was a weapon. Her weapon. A living, twisted thing that had kept her company throughout her captivity. Her only friend.
The only thing she trusted in this bleak world.
It spoke to her at times, whispered warnings and urged her to accept it. Acceptance had come readily, because this darkness was her strength. She felt that to the very depth of her soul. This darkness was her power.
She tensed as something struck her cage, jerked her head up and glared at the huge bare-chested warrior who had banged his black spear against it. A consuming desire to flash short fangs at him surged through her, but she denied it. She had to conserve her strength if they were going to move her.
Not because wherever they led her would be far away and she would need it to walk that distance.
But because she intended to escape.
If she threatened the male, he would stab her with the spear—she had learned that long ago. So now she behaved whenever he came to her, merely stared at him in silence most of the times, but this time she couldn’t hold her tongue.
“Water,” she whispered, voice hoarse and scratchy, and swallowed thickly again. She tapped her right index finger against her lower lip. “Water.”
The dark-haired brute merely grinned at her, revealing a missing canine. When he raked his black eyes over her, a shudder wracked her and she barely resisted the urge to ease back in her cage. She wouldn’t show weakness. She wouldn’t show fear. Never.
She silently cursed him. She needed water. It would give her the strength she was going to need to escape once they opened her cage. She wouldn’t have long to manage that feat. They were always quick to attach the metal collar to her neck, one that had two black iron poles fixed to it. Those long poles allowed them to steer her and keep her at a distance, making it impossible for her to attack them.
She couldn’t let them get that collar on her.
So, she would need to be swift to evade it.
“Water.” This time, she bit the word out harder, pressed two fingers to her mouth. “Please?”
She wasn’t above begging if it got her the water, although she despised it. The fiends always found it amusing when she was forced to plead with them. She wasn’t sure why. They seemed to like seeing her humble herself. As expected, his grin widened and he tilted his head back, and she shuddered as he slipped the tip of his spear between the bars and stroked the flat of the black blade down her thigh.
She tried to steel herself, to calm her mind, but the darkness was at the fore and before she could stop herself, she grabbed the spear and yanked it towards her, tugging him with it. He growled, his face twisting, and wrestled with her, was too strong for her to keep hold of the spear.
He pulled it free of her grip and she cried out as the blade cut her palm, slicing deep.
She curled her hand into a fist, gritted her teeth as the cut burned and stung.
His black eyes narrowed on her and he looked as if he was going to stab her as punishment for her actions, but instead, he reached for the pouch hanging from the waist of his black leather pants, uncorked it and held it aloft before her.
The cage rocked as she lunged forwards, stretching both arms between the thick iron bars, reaching for the water.
With a slow, cruel smile he tilted the pouch.
“No.” She stretched harder, pressing her cheek to the bars, fingers clawing at the air as she tried to grab the waterskin before he could go through with it.
She grunted as frustration rolled through her, as she fell just short of being able to touch it, and stilled as he tilted it, pouring the precious liquid all over the ground below her cage. The insects there were quick to rush away from it in a wave.
She stared at the glossy puddle and stilled as it reflected her image. When was the last time she had seen herself? She didn’t remember looking so grown up, or so filthy. The water was quick to soak into the black ground, leaving only a darker patch of dirt behind.
She sagged against the bars of her cage. “Bastard.”
The male chuckled and began to walk away, but stopped as another warrior approached him from the direction of their camp. The two of them had been in charge of taking care of her for as long as she could remember, but neither of them had warmed to her over the years, not even when she had entered adulthood. They had started looking at her differently though, in ways she didn’t like.
The second male looked at her in that way now, his blue eyes glittering with a heat that turned her stomach and made her shrink away from him.
“Get her ready to move,” the dark-haired male said and cast a black look over his bare shoulder at her. “Behave now.”
He slid his onyx gaze to the other male.
“And don’t touch her.”
She had heard him tell this male that same thing several times in several different ways during her captivity, whenever the redhead spoke of wanting her.
He stepped up to her as the dark-haired male walked away from them, coming to a stop right beneath her, his blue gaze trailing over her bare legs in a sickening way, one that had her tucking them closer to her.
“You going to behave for me, pet?” he murmured throatily, too much hunger in his eyes as he looked her over. “Although, I don’t think I would be upset if you fought me. Might get to touch you then. You don’t know how many nights I’ve lain awake thinking of you while I stroke—”
She spat in his face.
He growled, flashing his teeth, and wiped it away with a dirty rag. “Bitch.”
He strode past her, tucking the rag into the waist of his leathers on the same side as his waterskin. He pulled a pair of thick gloves from the other side of his trousers and tugged them on as he stopped beside the heavy wheel that the chain of her cage was attached to and kicked the lever.
The chain unfurled, rattling loudly as it thundered through the two pulleys mounted on the ceiling of the cavern, and she shrieked as her cage crashed into the ground, the impact shaking every bone in her body. Her head smacked against the bars and she breathed hard, fighting a wave of nausea. It passed quickly as she realised she had landed with her head close to where the dark-haired brute had tipped his water.
She scrambled onto her knees and tried to press her head between the bars to suck on the ground, but the door of her cage creaked open and the redhead fisted her hair. She gasped and reached up, grabbed his gloved hand in both of hers and flailed as he pulled her from the cage.