Page 18 of Taming the Eagle
Crouched against the tent pole, she looked uncomfortable and unhappy. But even so, his slave was lovely. The lantern light highlighted the strands of red in her brown hair and the smoothness of her pale skin.
Meeting his eye, Fenella’s full mouth pursed, her jaw tightening.
“It won’t be a comfortable night for you,” he said, breaking the silence between them. “I’d release you from your bindings, but we both know you’d just try and escape.”
“Not before I cut your throat,” she growled.
Justin snorted. Earning Fenella’s trust was going to be harder than he’d thought. It was just as well he was a patient man.
Washing down his last mouthful of food with a gulp of wine, Justin rose to his feet. He then unbuckled his belt and cast it aside, before removing his sandals. It was still early, but he was going to bed. Maybe sleep would ease the pounding in his skull and the knots in his gut.
“I don’t understand you, Eagle.” He turned to see Fenella was scowling at him. “Surely, you didn’t get to your position by letting your enemies manipulate you?”
Justin’s brow furrowed. He didn’t need reminding of the error he’d committed today. Toutorix wouldn’t fool him twice.
She was right though—his behavior was out of character. He was one of the youngest generals in the empire for a reason. Justinian Valerius Aquila was ambitious. For five years, he’d watched over this outpost, put down uprisings, and patrolled the frontier. Apart from sporadic visits to the taverna outside Ardoch, he hadn’t time for women.
“I didn’t,” he replied gruffly, “But that was before I met you, Fenella.”
Her gaze widened at this admission, but Justin let his comment lie. He might as well be honest with this woman. Even now, he was keenly aware of her, and when their gazes locked, he could almost forget what a disaster today had been.
“You don’t know me,” she replied, her voice roughening.
“No, I don’t,” he admitted, favoring her with a tired smile. “But that shall change.”
Fenella’s first glimpse of Ardoch was of spiked wooden palings rising against a smoke-colored sky.
Swallowing hard, she tried to ignore the frantic pounding of her heart. It was as if the Reaper stood before her with his scythe. She’d grown up within the shadow of this mighty fort—yet she’d deliberately never gotten close enough to actually see it.
How she wished she could avoid it now.
A horn announced their arrival then, the sound vibrating through the air.
Fenella’s step faltered. She nearly tripped but managed to right herself. Gods, her nerves were strung tight.
Breathe, she counseled herself, dragging air deep into her lungs.Your mind isn’t sharp when you’re afraid.
Following Aquila’s horse across a narrow wooden bridge, she kept her gaze upon the fort. Even from a distance, she could see Ardoch was huge—many times bigger than the largest settlement of her own people.
It rose up upon a hill, hugging the curve of the River Knaik. Like the camp of the night before, it appeared to be rectangular in shape. Dwellings fell in orderly rows to the south of the fort, around tilled fields. A sloping causeway, flanked by rows of deep ditches filled with vicious iron spikes, led up to the gates—and above the entrance reared a square wooden guard tower, where soldiers stood, their spears outlined against the sky.
Fenella craned her neck up.Curse it, those are high walls. Her gaze then dipped to the spike-filled ditches, and her bladder tingled. Throwing herself from the ramparts wouldn’t be wise. She’d need to find another way to escape.
She sucked in another deep breath then. Aye, shewouldescape this place—the first chance she got.
She hadn’t slept the night before. Instead, she’d lain upon the furs, trying to ease her chafed wrists while her mind churned. The Eagle clearly had been struck by an infatuation of sorts. He’d told her she didn’t have to be his bed slave, but she didn’t believe him. There was no mistaking the heat in his gaze when he looked at her. Sooner or later, he’d get frustrated and take what he wanted.
She needed to get free before he did.
Fenella walked up the causeway, her bare feet sliding on the large river stones that paved it. Before her, the entrance yawned. The heavy oak and iron gates sat open, and an iron grid with sharp metal teeth hung above them. Once this entrance was closed, there was no slipping out.
But she imagined they left the gates open during the day.
Inside the walls, noise—the roar of male voices and the rhythmic clanging of metal—assaulted Fenella. Her nostrils flared at the stench of burning peat and stale sweat.
The gateway led onto a paved street flanked by rows of low-slung, long wooden buildings. Men gathered on the edges of the street to greet Aquila and his soldiers—however, their gazes soon found Fenella. Her skin itched under their scrutiny, yet she stared back at them.
And what she saw surprised her.