Page 18 of The King has Fallen (The Kingdom of the Krow #1)

~ MELEK ~

A minute later I was creeping up on a clearing in the forest, grateful I’d had the foresight to wear dark clothing and bring my weapons.

Ahead, through a gap in the trees, I could see a crowd of young Neph, milling, talking, cheering, laughing. If I’d happened on them, I would have thought they’d come out here to drink. I drew close enough to see but kept myself out of sight in case I’d been wrong about what I heard, there was another ripple of laughter.

“Gall’s gonna become a man!”

“Hey! You’ll get to show her your warrior’s length, Gall!”

My heart sank as a cluster of the males leaped aside, laughing and tussling with each other.

What were they doing with him?

The worst occurred to me, but Gall wouldn’t. I knew he wouldn’t. He still had the mind of a child.

And yet… if they showed him the way?

Where the fuck was the Fetch?!

Still staying back and undetected, I tried to slip further around the group, seething that I could be even this close to so many so-called soldiers in the dead of night, and not one of them was watching their surroundings, or aware of my presence.

Their backs remained to me. No one even checked over their shoulders.

Idiots.

There were shouts, cajoling laughter and rising taunts. But the Neph were so large I couldn’t see beyond them to be certain of what I suspected.

I was forced to slip back into the forest and leap up to grasp the bough of the largest nearby pine, pulling myself up onto its broad branch so I could see beyond them.

And what I saw made my blood run cold.

A hundred feet away, Gall stood facing the crowd, my spear in both hands and leveled, his head snapping left and right, his lips peeled back from his teeth—like a cat cornered by a pack of dogs.

And beyond him, a small, lithe shadow crouched, one hand on his back, her eyes wide and expression grim.

Yilan. Looking like a prey-animal under the eyes of wolves.

I gritted my teeth as Gall’s attention was taken by one of the leaders, calling to him, daring him to drop the spear—and meanwhile, one of the others slipped out of the crowd from Gall’s right and darted forward.

There was a hissed, “Gall! Watch out!” and he whipped around, bringing the spear around with handy speed and some skill despite the fact that the weapon was longer and heavier than he was accustomed to using.

I would have been proud as he stabbed it towards the interloper, but one of the young leaders stepped forward putting his hands out to stop the others.

“Calm down, calm down, Gall. I told you; you’ve got nothing to be worried about. We’re friends, right? Remember?”

Gall’s determined expression faltered, and my heart panged for him. He was still half-crouched with the weapon readied. He was trying to protect her from whatever it was these younglings thought they would do with her. But the Siren call of friendship was being weaponized against him.

And it wasn’t the first time.

I’d thought everyone had grown up enough, that we were beyond these games. But clearly I’d been wrong.

Fuck.

“She’s… She’s not mine. She belongs to Melek.”

“He won’t care,” the leader pointed out.

“Or know,” his friend added.

“I think he will,” Gall said, his forehead puckered.

Then, because Gall had turned towards her slightly, everyone moved, and I caught a clear gaze at Yilan’s face—her darting eyes and obvious terror.

And yet…

There was no one behind her. She had a clear escape, but she hadn’t run. She was leaning into Gall, moving with him even when he moved quickly. She appeared to be guarding his back. Her lips moved, though I couldn’t hear what she said.

Reassurance to my son?

Or manipulation?

Had she created this conflict to find opportunity to flee?

And yet, if that was the case, why hadn’t she run yet? They’d obviously been out here for some time—no one was feeling uncertain or self-conscious. In the distance I could hear the cheering and rollicking in the camp. So, these young ones had obviously decided they were safe to get up to mischief.

And in truth, this wasn’t a scenario that would be discouraged by most of their leaders. Something Gall and I had discussed many times—that my honor kept me from behaviors many others encouraged.

Gall was an idealist. A kind heart. Compassionate. But still male.

I couldn’t know how he would be swayed with time. I was grateful that he had remained strong so far. But I could see the uncertainty in his expression, and the thought of where this could have gone with a little more time left me nauseous.

I would stop it. The question was how to do so without drawing attention to Gall’s failure—or my protection of her.

“Look, Gall, brother, she’s a woman. You know why God made them, right?”

Shit.

Gall nodded. “Yes. God made them for our babies. Melek explained—”

The snorts and guffaws made me want to snarl.

“Right, right, so… did he tell you how a girl gets a baby?”

Gall went still and he swallowed. “Yes. But…” he trailed off, frowning.

If the situation hadn’t been so dire I would have dropped my face into my hands and groaned. Gall was at a strange place in his life—his adult body driving him to things his developing mind didn’t understand. I had explained. More than once.

His interest swung wildly between embarrassment and fascination, depending on the day. It was, in part, why I’d warned Yilan against attempting to seduce him. I worried he’d misread it.

The leader who’d been keeping Gall’s attention stepped forward casually—just like a friend talking. But another of his friends had slipped around the back of the crowd and emerged at the furthest end in the opposite direction that Gall was now facing.

“So, let us show you, Gall. You need to become a man so you can be part of our club. And she can make you a man, Gall. You know that right?” their leader said slyly.

This had gone too far. I slipped off the branch and dropped lightly to the ground, creeping closer as my head spun, trying to find the way into this without casting suspicion—

“No. She’s not for us. She belongs to Melek,” Gall said stubbornly.

“Except, he’s not here. And she’s—”

The leader’s friend darted out quietly while Gall wasn’t paying attention and leaped towards Yilan.

She saw him coming and gasped, twisting out of his grip, pulling at Gall’s shirt from behind.

He reacted instinctively, whipping that spear around with a cry—and catching the male in the arm, slicing his bicep with the edge of the spearhead that I kept razor-sharp.

The youngling yelped, but he was well-trained—he twisted, and dropped, rolling back to his feet gripping his arm a moment later, but no longer laughing. He was cursing now, bellowing and hissing through his teeth as blood seeped out from under the fingers of the hand he had clapped to the wound.

And just like that, this was no longer a party, but a fight.

Twenty young Nephilim, all trained, all bored, all humming with unspent energy, sexual tension, and the instincts of creatures that were told to take what they wanted, when they wanted it.

By God’s mercy, everyone was so surprised that Gall had actually wounded the man, a ripple of shock washed through the crowd. And Gall himself.

His eyes widened and he stared at that blade, now smeared and glistening with his comrade’s blood.

It was the only hesitation. Then they all realized what had happened and all hell broke loose.

The leader roared forward, calling curses on Gall—who swung the weapon, thrusting and stabbing. He screamed at them all to stay back, while Yilan stayed at his back, her face a mask of horror and weariness.

She had no weapon. Not even a blade for eating. And because Gall had been disarmed by the sergeant, apart from my spear he wasn’t carrying any extra weapons she might have taken to help.

And so, she was left with one protector holding a single spear. And no matter his size and training, he lacked the confidence and ruthless nature of those he faced.

As the Neph descended on them with a roar, I tore forward, praying I could intervene quickly enough. But it all happened too fast, while I was still running to reach them.

The Nephilim came at the pair from both sides at once, and even though they were forced to dart back and away in the face of that blade, it was seconds before one of them drew Gall’s attention so he turned, and while he was off-balance, their leader slipped in behind him and grabbed Yilan.

She screamed like a fighting cat, clawing and raining blows—landing one hard enough to make him flinch and let go of her arm.

I was tearing forward, but too late, too late.

I almost tripped when she didn’t even hesitate, but launched herself at the males encircling Gall, screaming at him to stop listening and fight!

But even as she reached the Nephilim trying to disarm him and he roared, swinging the spear to try and fight for her, two got behind him and pulled him off his feet. The leader jumped after her, catching her around the waist, and grabbing her wrist to wrench her arm behind her back. And this time, even when she fought, he didn’t let her go.

His comrades rushed Gall, disarmed him and held him back. Their leader spat something ugly about female vessels and used brute force to haul her off her feet, turning her to catch her flailing arms.

“Settle, bitch, or this will hurt more than it has to,” he snarled.

Bringing his superior weight and strength to bear, he whipped her around, pulling both her arms back mercilessly and locking her wrists with one of his hands, while he plunged the other down the front of her shirt and gripped her breast.

There was a surge among the males watching.

Gall roared, screaming her name when she shrieked and twisted, trying to free herself. But the leader held her so tightly and threw her down with such force, her arm twisted grotesquely, her shoulder flexing in a direction it was never designed to do.

She screamed in pain and fell under him.

He was on her in a moment, panting and calling for Gall to watch, that he’d show him how to make a baby, and calling for the others to come taste a Fetch.

The crowd sucked in around them just as I burst into the clearing with a roar. Heart pounding, I bellowed the only thing I could think of to make them stop.

“UNHAND WHAT IS MINE, YOU FUCKING WORM!”