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Then he was speaking to her.

Alora understood a few words.‘Last.’ ‘Breathe.’ ‘Over.’ ‘Listen.’But she couldn’t determine their meaning, nor did she care.

Their horse stepped onto flat ground and continued on, weaving through tents and small collections of soldiers who were preparing meals over roaring fires.

Slowly, her mind returned, and that uneasy feeling stealing her balance subsided just as they eased to a stop beside a row of tents.

Her captor jumped off and offered his hand.

Instead of accepting his aid, Alora managed to swing her leg over—rather clumsily—and jump down. The long hours of riding and whatever had attacked her body moments before had her knees buckling.

He caught her shoulders, again preventing her from falling. The feel of his fingers gripping her shoulders was a reminder of her position—of her weakness to stop what was surely coming.

She glared up at him, knowing that in any other circumstance, she’d be grateful. With that wicked fire she wished would scorch in her eyes, she imagined burning into the endless vision of darkness in his cold ones.

He turned his head, jawline tight, settling on where the last riders were tying their horses. One cloaked, petite figure prowled toward them. “Jade, take her to a tent,” he said.

Alora wrenched her shoulders from his hands, stepping back. “What—notyours?” she spat, twisting her mouth in a snarl. “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me why I’m here.” That, very well, may have been a mistake, she realized too late, triggering a predatory response.

He tightened his jaw, and that hooded head slowly cocked to the side. Brewing with malicious intent, his eyes raked over her until that growl, low and brutal, shook the earth below her feet. “You will do as I say.”

Too many times had she heard those same words. Too many times had she submitted to the demands and cowered, allowing whatever punishment followed.

She’d hadenough.

Alora lowered her chin, glaring through her top lashes. She dared to take a step closer, and a voice, as icy as his, growled, “No.” He had probably never heard that word in his entire life by the look in his eyes.

Every menacing step in her direction crunched the dirt and rocks beneath his boots.

This time, she closed the distance for him. Puffing her chest and lifting her chin in rebellion. Meeting his simmering gaze.

“Get”—his breathing uneven—“in the starsdamn tent … before I throw you over my shoulder and take you in there myself.” An unnerving wind breezed through the camp around them.

Icy hands gripped her shoulders, pulling her forward.

She stumbled to catch her footing before slamming into the arms of an awaiting female. Jade—the female in question—pushed her off with a hiss before removing her own hood and resting a hand on the hilt of her sword.

Jade grabbed Alora’s forearm and hissed again. Only, this time, adding, “Move. Right now.”

The male stormed away. And with the last riders walking beside him, they neared a large tent at the end of the row past a calm fire.

Alora could hear familiar male voices. One notably different from the deep growls and agitated orders of her escort. She recognized the cheerful tone from the road when he’d addressed her captor. “That was … fun?—”

The voices faded as they disappeared into the waiting tent.

Jade pushed her inside a small entrance.

To the left, a lantern and wash basin full of steaming water rested atop a humble wooden table. A small flower, crafted in a pearly sheen across its wave-like petals, laid in front of it.

Alora rolled her eyes at the sight of it.Real welcoming.And sought to rip the petals from the stem the moment she was alone. If she ever would be alone…

A one-person cot, covered in a charcoal and burgundy wool blanket, sat against the canvas wall and a pile of clothing was heaped on top. Black pants, a long-sleeved, dark, dusty-rose tunic, a black leather corset vest, and knee-high black boots. But if they thought she would accept whatever piss-poor attempt at niceties, they were sorely mistaken.

Alora ignored the accommodations and twisted her cresting rage toward the female. “Where am I?”

That rage simmered over when Jade simply ignored her.

“Wash. Change. I’ll collect you when he demands it.” Jade’s raspy voice felt cold, like the night air. No remorse, no soothing tones of understanding, or any consideration for answers.