Page 22

After spending the night buried inside me, Dahr let me sleep through the morning and left for training without waking me up. When I blinked myself awake, I found the dishevelled bedding that had been burnt with all our sins and Dahr’s pillow, with something atop it.

I shifted to the side and raised my head to discover a yellow rose waiting for me on his pillow. The bud looked freshly cut and left a sweet scent in the air when I picked it up. I threw myself back on my pillow as I held the rose to observe it. Just like with strawberries, I hadn’t seen roses since I was a teenager. If they hadn’t been a commodity before, they were now, an unnecessary excess of wealth and only the richest of the rich afforded a bouquet on special occasions.

As I watched the design of the petals, studying how the yellow lines floated into a darker colour to paint a river of orange at the crusted edges, I thought about the effect this flower would have had on me had I not discovered the letters. How happy I would have been to spend a night in Dahr’s arms, my needs sated and my body sore from flying over the edge so many times. How I would have giggled like a lunatic, probably jumped around this very tent, my sentiment of love blooming like this very rose.

How I felt empty, instead. Tricked. Betrayed and used.

How I hated my own body for doing the unspeakable. My tongue for tasting his cock. My pussy for begging him for more. My breasts for singing into his mouth. How I wished to be a statue, frozen in time and forgotten in a specific era, modelled by beauty and time, with no heart to break or thoughts to haunt me.

This rose meant nothing.

Dahr fucking me senseless last night while he shivered in my arms with need, meant nothing.

Karisha’s kind words, Mira’s sweet looks, even Markos’ reveals and Sylam’s encouragement. It was all part of my fight. And I needed the truth.

With newfound urge to turn the outcome of this day, I removed the covers and forced myself out of bed. I looked at the rose one more time. At the soft petals and the orange hues, a memory of the fire that burnt on Dahr’s back through that intricate tattoo I had studied so much. I pressed my lips on the petals, giving them a final kiss before I crumpled the flower in my palm. Saying goodbye to what could have been. And determined to do what I should have from the very beginning.

I did not call Mira to ask for help getting ready that day. I had dressed myself for the past twenty-six years, I knew what needed to be done and what flattered me most. Today was not a day to throw myself into luscious dresses and look the part.

Today, I wanted to look like one of them. And hoped that my plan was going to work.

Sporting the krasta and the srysha, I let my hair loose and only braided a side of it, barely enough to keep it out of my face, using the same fashion I had seen everyone around the camp resort to. Instead of the elegant shoes I had found in one of the drawers of my new wardrobe, I used the heavy-sole leather-bound flats I had initially walked around camp with.

When I finished dressing, I had a look in the mirror to study myself. I looked at my bare skin, which I had flashed around camp so many times I wasn’t even aware of my partial nakedness any longer. Deep purple marks resurfaced from my thighs when I turned to the side, my skirt slightly lifting to reveal fingernail marks that remained deeply embedded in my legs.

I didn’t even want to think about the marks he must have left on my ass, when he squeezed me against his body, time and time again as he pushed himself into my very essence. I hadn’t shied away from impaling my fingernails into his back when he brought me to the cusps of pleasure as well, so, on that matter, at least, we were equals.

That would be the last connection Dahr and I would ever share. It was another promise I made to myself when I got out of the tent with determined steps and a fully formed plan in mind. And I had just the person to exercise it with.

Walking through the camp and taking care to circle around Karisha’s tent, not wanting to be seen by either her or Mira, I directed my steps towards the tent that had presented the most interest to me for a while, hoping to find the woman that always carried a book with her. She had drawn my attention more times than I could count and every time our gazes crossed, she always acknowledged me with a smile. I planned to turn that smile into a full conversation today.

“Hello,”

I immediately jumped at the opportunity to greet her as soon as I passed the woman’s tent. She was sitting on a small stool and used a tall wooden tool to froth some sort of substance in a bucket.

“What are you doing?”

I tried to ease my presence by her side and fake interest in her activity. Not that it wasn’t fascinating, but because I had other more important intentions on my mind.

“Making some butter,”

she answered and offered me that pleasant smile all over again.

“That’s so interesting. How long do you have to do it for?”

I carefully took a step towards her and inched myself closer, leaning in to see how the foam was slowly separating from the white liquid.

“Around an hour, hour and a half,”

the woman replied with a deep sigh, giving me the perfect opportunity.

“Can I help?”

I plastered on an excited smile and leaned down even more to watch how the circular movements created a constant swirl in the wooden bucket.

“Suit yourself,”

the woman jutted her chin and pointed to another small stool. I received the invitation with thanks and grabbed the small stool to place it by the woman’s side, letting my body relax next to hers.

“My name is Milenora. But everyone calls me Nora,”

I pressed a tight smile and turned to her, feeling slightly ashamed of myself that I was invading her privacy in such a way.

“I am Dyma,”

she dipped her chin again, in introduction as her wrists continued to turn the wooden bar into the bucket and froth the milk.

“How come you are not by the tribe lady’s side today?”

she turned her attention to me, letting me see the curiosity in her hazel eyes while her hands worked their magic on the soon-to-be butter.

“Karisha is busy today,”

I sustained Dyma’s questioning gaze and replied with confidence, not wanting to let her see the lie.

“I thought I would try to help around the camp,”

I smiled at her and I started sliding my gaze towards her shoulder, to something I hadn’t noticed before. She had a large burn mark that trailed from the side of her shoulder and down her inner arm. The first few layers of skin were crumpled together in a brutal gathering of reformed tissue, which looked absolutely gruelling and quite painful. The skin was red and still irritated, as if the injury had happened recently.

“Don’t worry about it,”

Dyma moved her hand like it was nothing, maybe to prove to me the full mobility of her elbow.

“It’s slowly healing. Another couple of months and I will be as good as new.”

“Can I ask how it happened?”

I posed the question, unable to look away from her injury.

“Three months ago, in Vrothran, during the attack. It was my fault entirely, please do not worry Grannicus with it, he does so much for us as it is,”

she grabbed my wrist to make a point, and I immediately nodded.

“I won’t,”

I reassured her with a dash of a smile, as I took the opportunity to lead the conversation on the path I needed it to go.

“Dahr is very stressed with the attack on Enderflagg as it is, so I don’t want to worry him more than he needs to be. If that is alright with you, of course.”

“Of course,”

Dyma said with immediate understanding. It was fascinating how her other wrist still moved in a perfect circular motion inside the bucket while her attention remained focused on me. This was a woman who truly needed to be admired.

“And you must be terrified as well,”

she said, her hazel eyes flickering with sadness.

“Not yet, there are still eight days to go,”

I tested my knowledge on the timeline and was relieved to find it accurate when Dyma did not correct me.

“I always pity you girls,”

she sighed and used her free hand to rub her eye, just like one does when they want to avoid tears.

“It is a very sad fate, and we all know Grannicus hates doing it,”

she pressed her lips together with regret. Then her voice perked up, the woman displaying a nervous smile to me.

“At least you seem to have conquered Grannicus’ heart,” she observed.

“We never saw him walk with any of the other women. We never even saw the other women at all,” she admitted, her brows arching slightly.

“I guess he feels bad and wants to make up for it,”

I pressed my lips together and tried to steady my pulse at the mention of other women being connected to Dahr, just the way I was. Was she referring to the visits he made around camp when he needed release? Had there been other kidnappings?

Dyma huffed.

“I want to make up for it. We all do. I can’t even imagine what you girls have to go through,”

she lowered her voice and leaned in from her stool to press her hand on my knee.

“We are all grateful for your sacrifice.”

I nodded, not knowing what to say. Should I be thanking her? What exactly was I sacrificing? Apart from my heart, that was slowly shattering into a million pieces with each and every one of her words. How did no one think to talk to me the way this woman was? Why did no one take the time to tell me exactly what my purpose here was?

“I still don’t understand how it works,”

I huffed slowly, the true portrait of regret coming into light on my features.

“We don’t either,”

Dyma replied apologetically.

“Not truly. All we know is that the offering needs to be taken from the next town we attack. She is placed inside Grannicus’ tent every night while he sleeps so he can forge the connection and guide his power only on the surface where it needs to be expelled. But we don’t truly know how he connects to you.”

But I knew.

I tried to blink away tears, feeling one drip to my cheek and falling on the side of my jaw, but I wiped it away. I knew how Dahr made the connection with all the kidnapped girls. Because he was currently doing it with me.

“I am sorry, miss. It was not my intention to hurt you,”

Dyma apologised quickly, but I shook her words away.

“Can you tell me what happens after Dahr… Grannicus guides his power?”

I asked, but immediately noticed her shaking the conversation away, so I pushed a victimising plea, which I prayed would work.

“Since I probably won’t be there?”

I added the word ‘probably’ to give her the opportunity to mention any exceptions, but I knew her answer before she opened her mouth. She had called us ‘offerings’. As far as I knew, there wasn’t a record of someone being offered and having survived. Not in mythology, and especially not in the current days.

Dyma nodded, forcing herself to speak the words overcome by pity. She did not make a reference to the fact that I won’t be there and continued to tell me the aftermath of whatever happened next.

“Grannicus and yourself will walk to the place of his choosing, from where he will explode his fire into the territory,”

she slowly lifted her hand to show what that fire does, and I swallowed a dry lump in my throat. If those were the effects from a distance, my body had absolutely no chance of surviving an explosion of fire right near the source. Hence… offering.

“The warriors will be the front line to receive the first wave of escapees while we form half-mile perimeters to catch anyone else. It takes as long as it takes,”

her lips pursed, not wanting to say the words.

“There are no survivors?”

I dared ask through the ringing in my ears. My pulse was so high that my blood raced through my veins, making everything around me look blurry and unsettled. Not only had I just discovered that I had eight days to live, but that everyone who tried to escape would be slaughtered. By the very people I had dared to have hope for and call friends.

Dyma shook her head apologetically.

“We cannot risk discovery. Not until we follow the captain’s orders and reach Senesra.”

“Thank you for your honesty,”

I barely had enough strength to reply as I pushed the small stool away. My body struggled to stand, the pressure pounding in my head affecting my balance to the point where everything turned black right in front of my eyes.

“Miss, are you alright?”

I felt Dyma’s hands on my shoulders, keeping me in place. I forced air into my lungs for a few seconds, willing the deep breaths to calm some of my nausea until the woman’s hazel eyes studying me with worry became visible once again.

“Sorry, I skipped breakfast,”

I apologised and strengthened my back to keep my body upright.

“I’ll go fix that now,”

I excused myself and walked away, shaking my head when the woman offered to take me back. I needed air, I needed to focus, I needed to understand what was happening. What had I gotten myself into?

No, Nora, what you have been forced into.

Judging by Karisha’s records, which always started fresh with the arrival of the new month, I knew for certain that the attack on my town would happen on the 31st of March. A week away. I had a week to find a solution, to save over fifty thousand people that resided in the same place I had been plucked from.

I barely walked to the tent, my legs scrambling with the strength each step took from me and when I finally arrived, I let myself fall to the ground and let it all out.

I let the tears that had pricked my eyes slip out and broke into deep sobs. My entire body shook, and my muscles quivered with the pain of the discovery.

Of the realisation.

Of the betrayal.

I cried until there was no water left to expel, until there was no pain left to howl inside my soul and until there was nothing in my mind but focus.

The answer to all this was a simple one, or so I hoped.

There was one central person for each attack, one that led the entire camp and what became the key to the entire fight: Dahr.

Without him, there would be no explosion. Without him there would be no death and possibly, hopefully, without him, there would be no camp.

There was only one thing I could do.

Kill him.