Page 8 of Spirit Trials (The Spirit Kingdoms #1)

I close the door behind me and lock it and throw the clothes on the bed.

I’m almost giddy as I strip my clothes off and step into the tub.

I carefully peel off the dressing on my wound.

Frowning, I look down at my side. There’s not even a scar there.

Whatever they used must have had some pretty powerful medicinal qualities.

I sink into the water and sigh as it surrounds me, instantly soothing my aching muscles.

I’m pretty sure I’m never getting out. I close my eyes, but as soon as I do, too many images flash before my eyes.

I open them quickly; I don’t want to remember the lives I took.

It makes me sick, but I also don’t want to forget what they did to our village. I sigh; it makes things...complicated.

I reach over the edge of the tub and pick up the bar of soap and a washcloth.

I wash my hair twice, scrubbing hard. Then I wash my body.

I’m not going to lie; this is really nice.

I put my head back again and relax. I stay in there long enough that my skin starts pruning.

A sound at my door startles me. Before I realize what’s happening, the door to my room opens.

I launch myself up and out of the tub with a squeak.

I grab the towel lightning fast and whirl around as my heart pounds in my chest. The innkeeper from downstairs closes the door and advances on me.

“Get out of here,” I grind out, trying to yank the towel around my soaking wet body.

“I don’t think I will.” His eyes run over me, and my revulsion thickens.

He takes another step towards me, and I back up.

My heart races at the look in his eyes; it’s pure evil.

I shiver as he reaches for me, but I evade his touch.

If I can just get to the door, I can make a run for it.

But he steps in front of me, grabbing for me.

Realizing this is not going to go well for me, I stop worrying about my modesty and lunge for the knife under my pillow.

He grabs me and says something so filthy, I almost drop the knife.

He grabs me and jerks me around, ripping the towel from my hands.

Without thinking, I thrust up with the knife he didn’t see and stab him in the heart.

He staggers backwards, staring at me with horror in his gaze before crashing to the floor.

I snatch the towel from the floor and wrap it around me as I stare at the body on the floor in shock. What have I done?

The door to my room crashes against the wall, and I whirl around and hold my knife up. “Stop!” I say to the bare chest in front of me. A huge hand encircles my wrist, and I try to jerk away. But the person holding my wrist is too strong.

“If you’re going to be a threat with this, go for the throat.”

I hear the words, but they don’t register.

My hand moves without my permission, and I blink when I realize my knife is now against somebody’s throat.

I look up into the dark eyes of the leader.

I yank my hand back, and he releases his hold.

I turn to look at the body on the floor, but he puts a hand on my face and turns it back to him.

“Don’t look over there; look at me.” I blink again, trying to focus.

“Put clothes on,” I think I hear him say.

He puts a finger under my chin and tips it up so I’m looking him in the eye.

“My men are coming in. Put clothes on; I’ll turn my back.

” My eyes flit over to the body on the floor, but he stops me again.

“Look at me; not over there.” My eyes meet his intense ones, and I feel like the oxygen is sucked out of the room.

“Farrah, put clothes on.” I can clearly hear the order in his voice.

He stares at me a moment longer before he turns around.

Knowing I have to get dressed, I drop the towel and throw on the clothes.

I barely pay attention to what I put on—a dark shirt and dark pants.

I snag the comb from the nightstand and try to run it through my hair, but my hands are shaking too badly.

“Are you dressed?” he asks. I nod before realizing he can’t see me.

“Yes.”

He opens the door and lets in Lox, Hector, and the younger dark-haired guy. I keep my head down because I don’t really want to see pity or anything else in their gazes. “You okay, Farrah?” Lox asks, stopping in front of me.

“Grab him and go,” the leader says impatiently.

I cringe and turn away when I hear them dragging the innkeeper through the doorway. I swallow hard to keep from throwing up. I reach up and try to comb my hair again, but my hands are practically useless. I drop my hands in frustration.

“Hand it to me.” I turn around. A quick glance around the room shows that the other men are gone.

A shudder runs through me, and I cross my hands over my chest. The leader puts his hand out, and I stare at it in confusion before I realize he wants the comb.

He then motions for me to turn around, but I just stare at him.

He sighs. “I’m just going to comb your hair; I’m not going to hurt you. ”

I finally give in and turn around, shocked when he begins to run the comb through my hair.

Surprisingly, he’s actually gentle, more gentle than I usually am when I comb my hair.

The comb running though my hair takes me back to a time when I was young, and my mom was actively involved in my life.

She used to comb my hair just like this.

Tears at the memory spring up, but I stubbornly push them away.

If I was shocked at him combing my hair, I’m blown away when he starts braiding my hair.

I don’t say anything, because I don’t know what to say.

His hands fall away from my hair, and I reach back to feel it.

It’s more complicated than a three-strand braid and something I’d never be able to do on my own.

I turn around and give him a questioning look.

“I’ve braided rope many times—same process.”

“Thank you.” My words come out a whisper. I take a step back, trying to feel my way through this situation. I’m confused, tired, and overwhelmed. I look back at the spot where the innkeeper lay. There’s one thing I know for sure; I don’t want to be in this room tonight. A shudder runs through me.

“We’re leaving. Grab your stuff.” Without another word, he leaves the room.

Since I don’t have anything to grab, I simply follow him into the hallway.

He disappears into his room. When he comes back, he has two bags slung over his shoulder.

I follow him without a word down the stairs and outside.

Lox and Hector are waiting for us. I feel bad because it's really late.

I walk over to where the leader is loading his bags onto his horse. “We really don’t have to leave.”

He doesn’t even look at me when he responds. “Yes, we do.” He climbs on to his horse and motions at the horse I’ve been riding.

“What about the other guy?” I ask, worried when I don’t see the younger guy.

“He’s coming,” the leader says. I look over my shoulder and don’t see him, but I know it’s really not any of my concern.

They’re the enemy, I remind myself. We’re a ways down the road when a rider joins us.

I can’t help but breathe a sigh of relief when I see it’s the younger dark-haired guy.

The leader stops his horse and turns around.

I pull the reins on my horse and turn around as well, wondering what we’re doing.

I stare as the Inn goes up in flames. “There were people in there,” I gasp.

“Everybody got out,” the younger guy says so quietly, I almost don’t hear him. I stare silently at the burning Inn. Soon, there’s nothing left but a smoldering fire.

“He’ll never hurt you again.” The words from the leader are quiet, but I hear them clearly.

We ride silently for at least an hour or two before we stop and make camp for the night.

When they’re all asleep later, I turn and face the fire.

I’m not sure I’ll sleep again...ever. Every time I try to close my eyes, I keep seeing the innkeeper’s wide eyes when he stared at me before he dropped to his knees.

Frustrated, I sit up and wrap the bedroll around me and continue to stare into the fire.

“You did what you had to,” a voice reaches me from somewhere nearby.

I don’t turn to face the leader. “Don’t waste sleep on somebody who doesn’t deserve it.

” He’s silent a moment. Then his voice reaches me again.

“If you hadn’t killed him, I would have.

Think of how many other women and young girls you protected by ending him. ”

I slowly turn my head and seek him out. He’s a few feet away, laying on his back in his bedroll, staring up at the sky. “You really think so?”

“Yeah. Those kinds of guys don’t change. They just get worse.” It’s quiet for a minute, and I turn back to the fire. “Usually, they turn to kids.” A sick feeling fills me.

“Then I did the right thing.” I’m not sure if I’m convincing myself or him.

“Yes. Now, sleep.”

He doesn’t say anything after that. I stare into the fire a little while longer and then lay back down. Sleep finds me because the next thing I know it’s morning and time to get moving.

The next few days pass slowly as we continue traveling.

At least now we’re not traveling in circles.

We travel North; that much I know because each day is colder than the day before.

Yesterday, we even rode through an area that had snow on the ground.

The guys wear furs now as they ride; they graciously gave me one to wear as well. I’m incredibly grateful for the warmth.

“Is this how it is where you live?” I ask as we ride in the afternoon.

“Yep.” It’s Lox that answers.

“How do you guys stand it?”

He smiles. “We’re used to it; it doesn’t bother us.”

My teeth chatter, and I wrap the fur tighter around me. “Well, I’m not. This is so cold.”

“You ever get snow in your village?” Lox asks.

“No. Never.”

He smiles at me. “We’ll have to teach you all the fun things to do when we get a good snow.”

“No, thank you. I just want to be inside when it snows.”

“Nah, you’ll love it. You just need warmer clothes.”

I think to the shirt and pants I’m wearing. “Whose are these clothes that I’m wearing anyway?”

“Mine,” the younger guys says.

“They were the only ones close enough to fitting you,” Hector says gruffly.

My eyes find the younger, quiet guy. “Thank you—”

“Jamik,” he supplies.

I smile. “Nice to meet you, Jamik. Good thing it only took me a few weeks to learn your name,” I tell him good-naturedly.

He scowls. “My brother wouldn’t let me tell you at first.”

I stare at him as it suddenly fits together.

The leader and the younger guy are brothers.

Now that I know, I wonder how I didn’t see it before.

“Well, since we’re sharing now, how about you tell me your brother’s name,” I say, hoping he’ll finally let me in.

It’s annoying interacting with him and not knowing his name.

“Rysden.”

That comes from the man himself. He doesn’t turn back as he says it, and I lock it away. Rysden. It fits him.