A plea to stay. I should have ignored it, but I knew even without knowing anything of this Fang at all that such a seemingly normal thing was rare for him.
“Fang,” I repeated, tasting it, unsure what to make of it. “You…” My stomach heaved, the chicken dumpling stew we’d eaten for dinner roiling and rising as I drifted back toward him. My voice rasped, choking on the question. “You’ve murdered us, Fang, and for what?”
“Because we can,” he said as simply as the rising of the sun and retrieved the blade he’d handed me. Waiting until I’d drawn closer, until I’d entered the wider opening we’d found this strange truce in, he took my hand and pulled me to him. His scent followed as he pressed the hilt into my palm, his fingers cool against mine but nowhere near as cold as his gaze. “And we won’t stop, we won’t falter, we won’t tire. So fucking stab me.”
It was as if he’d known precisely what to say to make that bone-deep fear morph into a blistering rage.
I struck, almost falling flat on my face as he lunged to the side, laughing. “Hone that anger, make it yours, not mine.” He lurched forward, and I gasped, my blade taking the sudden impact of his right before my chest. Breathing through his nostrils, he grinned, then turned us. His front at my back, strong arms caged me, threatening and warm at the same time. “Reel it in, sunshine,” he said, throaty and low as I struggled to no avail. “That fiery rage is a mighty powerful weapon, but only if you reel it in, use it, and do not allow it the chance to use you.”
My breathing steadied all the while my heart skipped too many beats. That scent, cedar and smoke, clouded my mind.
The hand swallowing mine, calloused and huge, readjusted my grip on the dagger. “Close combat,” he murmured as if wanting to explain why his body had molded to my back, “on the ground, cornered, unwanted confrontation, whatever it may be, you cannot hesitate.” His breath washed over my ear and cheek, stirring the fine hairs from my braid. “You stab instantly.” Spinning me, he drew my hand toward my chest, dangerously close to my breast, and pushed toward my armpit. “If they’re armored, find the gaps and use them.”
Nodding, I followed his movements when his hand fell away, and then we started again.
With each lunge, every thrust, and the dance of my feet, Prince Bron, my father’s plans, the distant howls and the trill of night birds, the fact that my enemy was teaching me how to survive people just like him—all of it flowed to the dark edges of my mind. There was only this strange male named Fang, his grunted half-laughs, the odd curse, the sharp agility that constantly caught me off guard, the harsh tempo of my heartbeat, and the sweat that misted my entire body.
When the baying of creatures, wolves and otherwise, across the ravine only grew in volume, I faltered, narrowly dodging his blade as it skimmed the arm of my thermal, wool fluttering to the dirt.
With a smirk curving into his cheek, feverish eyes a wild blue, and his blond hair standing in every direction, Fang swept into a deep bow, then took his leave.
He didn’t say goodbye. He left with the moon and never looked back.
Dawn gathered light and bathed the dark with smoky gold.
Fires raged in the east across the river, destroying one of the last northern towns before the woods that bordered the cliffs.
On horseback and on foot, the survivors, few as they were, arrived with their meager belongings and children in tow. Saddlebags and baskets swayed over the ash-dusted beasts, plumes of heavy breath blowing before them in great huffs.
Faces, blackened with soot, shining with sweat and tears, stared blankly at me as they passed, herded behind the city walls.
I wasn’t permitted to head to where many would need my help. There are others, Mother would say, enough that you do not need to endanger yourself.
Helpless, all I could do was stand there and await the worst of the injured to arrive. Then I could be of assistance. Then I could feel useful. Then some of this sorrow that carved away at flesh and bone would find another outlet—another purpose.
Once they’d all been shown to the city hall, where they’d stay with other families who had yet to find new housing or leave the city in search of wide-open forests, farms, and fields, I stared at the morning sky as the rising sun gathered what remained of their burning homes and swallowed it within its golden fist.
I gathered more feverfew and golden root in the fields beyond the castle, the sun now a sinking ember behind the looming pines that guarded the darkening woods.
Many people had arrived and then perished, and many were healing but forever scarred.
Setting my wares inside the basket, I lowered to the wildflower-strewn earth, gazing toward those woods with a question I’d asked myself but wouldn’t dare say aloud. Not for fear of reprimand but for fear of the answer.
Without even asking, I knew nothing would make him stop. The blood king and his vengeance-sworn armies would pillage and plunder, and it seemed they wouldn’t tire until every last creature of Sinshell was dead.
What it must be like to live with a hatred so deep, so untouchable, so incurable… I didn’t want to know.
I would never pity him, of that I was sure. Not when wagons were still ambling over the horizon outside the city, carting the dead to their final resting places by the cliffs.
Staring over my shoulder, I watched them in the distance. The castle at their backs seemed to watch on, its luminous stone dull with dismay.
When I looked back to the forest before me, I found a pair of staring eyes.
The fawn wobbled as it dared to breach the canopy of greenery, large eyes blinking, absorbing, and finally settling upon my face. With an excited waggle of its backside, it bounded over the grass and promptly fell on its fresh legs.
A watery laugh shocked me, and sniffling, I rose to my feet, heading over to help her rise.
Before I could reach the bumbling babe, an arrow whizzed by, and the deer slumped into the grass.
Whirling, I glared at Deandra. “She was just a baby.”
The soldier loped past me, the thick dark braids that kept her hair from her face bouncing against crusted armor. Bending, she retrieved her arrow. Blood still covered her brown cheeks and forehead from the battle across the river. If you could call it a battle. Few of the blood king’s regiment had remained when our soldiers arrived, their task in terror and murder already achieved.
Deandra shot me a grin. “A delicacy, Princess.”
Horror gripped me so swift, I had to look away when she tossed the deer around her plated shoulders.
She laughed. “We ought to get you involved in the real action and create a hardened barrier for that soft heart of yours.”
I had no words for that. There was only that nagging guilt, and it clamored and clawed with the reminder that I wasn’t doing enough. None of us would ever be able to do enough. “What are you doing out here?”
Deandra waded back through the thick grass, and I collected my basket, following as she said, “I was told to find you. We have a guest.”
The prince had arrived on his own.
His parents, Prince Bron had said, were not well pleased by the idea of a marriage between our two kingdoms, but upon receiving my father’s letter, he’d found himself curious.
Curious enough to have a large chunk of his army escort him here before having them disperse throughout our city and the fields and woods beyond, it would seem.