Page 11 of The King has Fallen (The Kingdom of the Krow #1)

SOUNDTRACK: Devil Knows by Armen Paul

~ YILAN ~

Two days later I was slumped against the back of the cage, swallowing the nausea that twisted my guts every time I smelled food.

It had been three days since I’d eaten, and now Melek was about to bring another hot and juicy meal to the tent. I honestly thought I might weep. My stomach felt hollow. My heart beat too quickly. My limbs were heavy.

When Melek returned, it would be to savor yet another meal in my presence, smiling smugly all the while.

God, help me.

I couldn’t let him win.

I tipped my head back against the bars and took advantage of the empty tent to lift my voice in song, in tongues, in prayer.

Care not for my tears,

I shed them for thee.

Care not for my wounds,

I would die in peace.

Your heart carries me.

Your breath lifts my wings.

Do not take me,

Do not take me.

I lay down my weapons

Hands open to peace.

Do not take me,

Do not take me.

Though I lay in the shadows—

The tent flap twitching aside was the only warning before the night air rushed in, carrying with it the scents of fresh, flaky fish, creamed potatoes, and something I couldn’t identify but it smelled delicious.

I think I actually groaned.

Melek ignored me completely.

This ritual with the food hadn’t changed, but his demeanor since I’d called Gall soulless had been gruff and distant. Even colder than before.

Instinctively, as he stalked into the tent, I tightened my grip on the spear. But he ignored me completely, sliding the large platter onto the table and settling himself in the chair.

As he dove into the food with gusto, my stomach growled and I cursed.

“Hungry, Fetch?” he rumbled, but the words lacked the warmth of humor that he’d given them the first day.

Tonight, they were only a cruel taunt.

He did look at me though, which I didn’t think had happened in the past two days.

I met that smug gaze with a sneer. But said nothing.

He shrugged and went back to his meal.

I could no longer ignore the food. Now, when he ate, I watched like a forlorn child. I knew it was pathetic, but I had to see every bite. I had tried ignoring him and it only made my mind conjure far more than was actually there.

In the hours between meals, when Melek questioned me or was having a meeting with interesting information to glean, I could drink water and forget my hunger… sometimes.

But this morning I’d woken feeling not just hungry, but shaky and weak.

The danger was not that I would starve to death, but that I would starve to such weakness that I could not defend myself if anything were to happen.

I prayed daily for something to happen, to break this stand off. But so far… nothing.

Melek was only halfway through the plate of perfect, white fish and what appeared to be buttered green beans, when the tent flap jerked aside again and Jannus entered, speaking immediately.

“Melek, it’s news from—”

Two strides into the tent, he hesitated, looking at Melek seated at that table in the center of the tent, and then at me. I tried to smile, but for the first time Jannus didn’t flirt, he frowned.

Melek, apparently unconcerned, opened a greasy hand towards the other side of the table. “Pull up a stool. I have enough for t—”

“Has she eaten anything? Anything at all?”

Melek shot him a look. “Are you blind? She still has the spear.”

“Seriously, Mel? This kind of petty discipline isn’t you.”

Melek’s eyes were back on the fish as he tore a piece of the filet off to consume. He shrugged. “She will be fed the moment she relinquishes the deadly weapon that she stole,” he said casually, though his chewing was decidedly forceful after the statement.

Jann’s mouth opened like he’d argue, but then he glanced at me again, before his brow furrowed.

I stared back at him, uncertain what he was thinking.

But it didn’t matter because he broke the gaze to stride to the side of the tent, grabbing a heavy stool in one hand, heedless of its weight, then dropping it at the other side of the table.

He straddled it and leaned over the table towards Melek, his eyes blazing with a strange light, but his smile was back.

“The first steps have been taken… and her guesses were right. My scouts found the guard camp. There’s roughly two dozen spears, and then an additional ten runners positioned a mile deeper into the ravine. One of my trackers even followed a runner from the patrols to their camp inside the ravine, so we have at least a partial path through the sinkholes.

“We used your strategy for the approach, and there are already three hundred Nephilim within an hour’s march of the ravine—undetected.”

Melek went still, looking at his friend, his brows high. “Already?”

Jann’s teeth shone, his smile was so bright. “Tomorrow, I expect to hear that we hold that precious half-mile in which the land narrows to the ravine, without raising alarm. And if we do, it will be days, Melek. Days until we’re taking the runners—we’re only waiting now to be certain we know their numbers and none will escape to warn their leaders. Then we’ll take them all and fly to the clifftops unhindered.”

“Jann, that’s—”

Jann’s bright face suddenly went dark. “And it’s thanks to her.”

Melek went still, staring at his friend.

I was shocked—first by Jann’s fierce defense of me, and then that he didn’t soften at all as Melek stared him down.

“That is excellent news,” the General said eventually, his voice wary. “Keep me updated.”

Jannus shook his head. “Really, Melek? That’s all?”

“What else would you expect?” he growled in return, then bit off the lengths of three green beans.

But Jannus just sighed.

~ MELEK ~

After my meal and some careful questions, I followed Jann out into the night, unconcerned about leaving the Fetch alone because I would stay near the tent so no one could enter without my knowledge.

But the moment we were far enough into the dark that she wouldn’t hear, I grabbed his shoulder and pulled him around to face me.

“I don’t know what game you’re playing, but do not defend her in her presence like that again. You only embolden her when I need her weaker, not more determined.”

Jann shook his head. “You’re being cruel.”

“I could have let the archers come and kill her. Or slit her throat with my own spear in her sleep. I’m cruel for giving her reason to surrender the weapon?”

“You’re being cruel, taunting her. You preach dignity for prisoners of war to the ranks, then do this? She can’t best you, Melek. She is no true threat—why treat her like a warrior when she’s little more than—”

I bristled. “You are empty-headed if you believe that woman isn’t just as dangerous to you as any warrior.”

Jann scoffed.

I growled a warning. “In truth, she is more so—because she is underestimated by—”

A swell of horns and raised voices rose from a campfire among the tents.

Jann and I both startled, then relaxed when we realized some of the men were playing music and singing, beginning to dance, while others cheered them on.

I turned back to Jann, preparing to continue, only to find him frowning beyond me, towards the tents.

“Remember those days, Mel? Young, and so sure of ourselves. Even with battle on the horizon there was always a song to sing, or a woman to chase…”

“I was never much for chasing skirts,” I said gruffly, even though I knew what he meant.

Life was very different as a soldier than as a leader.

One followed, the other… well, led. And that meant that all those lives, all those hearts and minds were our responsibility.

Add to that a King who was ignorant of the intricacies of war, and who had to be managed else he’d create more problems than he might solve…

Well. There hadn’t been a lot of singing or dancing for us in the previous two years.

“Forget the Fetch,” Jann said suddenly, clapping my shoulder. “Let’s go sing and dance again.”

He started towards the noise, but I hung back shaking my head.

When he turned, obviously about to cajole me, I lifted my hands and shook my head. “It’s not because I wouldn’t, Jann, you know that. But… let them relax. If I’m there, they feel like they have to be careful.”

Jann frowned and I was reminded how much he was doing that lately, and how unlike him it was. “But—”

“You go, they won’t mind you,” I assured him. “I need to get back to the Fetch, anyway. Her eyes lit up when you talked about the runner’s camp. I’m going to ask her what she knows.”

Jann’s lips went thin, but within moments I had him convinced that I was too tired to dance, and he should go without me. I started back up the path to my tent before he could protest.

I did hum along with the music as I walked, even allowing myself a small smile. It would be nice to sit in the tent tonight and read.

If Jann was right and we would take the Ravine within days, then there were only a few days beyond that before I would be needed back at the front.

I should rest while I could.

So I hurried back to the tent, that glowed yellow in the dark from the lanterns lit within, hesitating before I reached the door, wondering if she’d be in there staring at the food—or perhaps trying to use the spear to reach it.

I decided if she had, I would give grace, and ignore her disobedience. Unless she taunted me.

So, grasping the canvas door and pulling it aside, I was smiling—but I froze before I even stepped into the tent.

The Fetch was on her feet in the cage, the spear held against her forearm for quick use. But it wasn’t what she was focused on.

She was… undulating.

It took a moment to realize that she moved in time with the music. But the refrain in the night was bright and jolly, while her movements were much slower and…

I swallowed hard.

She had her back to me, her hair swaying around her shoulders, but her hips…

Her hips seemed to have a life of their own, able to roll and extend in almost disparate movements from the rest of her, as if her waist lengthened. She rippled like water, her body flowing as easily as her hair. And with her back to me, the rounds of her ass were presented, rolling and bobbing like a taut peach, hanging in the wind, ready for plucking.

The roof of my mouth went dry.

Then she raised her arms, one hand curled gracefully over her head, the other clutching the spear, and yet somehow, she made it look like a part of the dance. But that position pulled her shirt up, revealing a slice of skin above her leathers, the hollow of her spine as it rolled in the dance.

A very beautiful, very feminine, very startling dance.

Which was when I realized I was just standing there, staring at her—at the exact moment her undulating, coiling dance shifted her slightly towards me and she turned her head to find me gaping like an innocent lad.

She froze for a second and I saw a flash of fear in those large eyes.

But just as I bristled, she came alive again, turning her body and catching the music, rippling in that inexplicable way, as if her spine had no substance and she were a serpent.

Then she glanced at me over the other shoulder and smiled.

“Hungry, General?” she asked slyly.

I blinked… then a moment too late, growled.

When her tinkling laugh reached my hot ears, I humphed and turned on my heel, storming back out to join Jann after all.

But even when I accepted his welcome, and those of the half-drunk soldiers around the fire, even when I finished dancing myself and just sat, enjoying the music and singing, a mug of ale on my knee, staring into the fire… even then, the flickering, rolling flames reminded me of nothing as much as her warm, rippling body.