Page 3 of The King has Fallen (The Kingdom of the Krow #1)

~ MELEK ~

Gault, the King, was being foolish again. I ground my teeth as he reclined on his furs and instructed the Fetch to begin talking and not to stop until he told her to.

As she gathered herself and eyed him darkly, I knew she would comply. But the truth you heard from a Fetch was rarely the truth you thought you heard. I had fought alongside ancients that claimed to have entered the Fetch city, though I was never certain whether they could be trusted either. They said these creatures were wisps on the wind. They danced the shadows and killed like breathing.

If it was true she’d been watching Gault for three days already, then perhaps the ancients hadn’t been exaggerating. I couldn’t know. I hadn’t been in camp. But we’d seen evidence of the Fetch near the battlefield, so I had come to request the hounds knowing Gault wouldn’t release them to anyone else—only to find that the signs were here, too.

And now… here we were.

She licked her lips, never taking her eyes off the King, though her expression was empty—no hint of what she felt or thought. And when she spoke, her voice was quiet, submissive.

“I will share what I know with the King, of course,” she said quietly. “But much of what I know is… sensitive, even here. Your enemies learn of you, you understand? You may not wish me to speak these things with an audience?” She eyed the guards and servants on either side of her, and around the King, then waited.

Cunning bitch.

Gault opened his mouth, his expression dark and suspicious, but his eyes darting side to side, probably because she’d revealed that she already knew his secrets. I couldn’t let her manipulate him so that she escaped. I cleared my throat.

“It is worth remembering, Sire, that the Fetch are deceivers and thieves. Slippery with both words and body. Do not trust her.”

“I don’t,” Gault said bluntly. “But the point is valid. I also don’t trust the dull minds of those who do not carry the blood of the Light Bearer. Clear the tent—you stay, Melek. But everyone else, out.”

I gritted my teeth as everyone—including the guards—immediately turned for the door.

“Remain outside and form a perimeter around the entire tent,” I said quietly, catching the elbow of the Lieutenant as they all hurried for the door. “And send for the tentmaker—she’s cut the side in the corner over there. Get someone to repair it today.”

The man ducked his head once, then marched for the door, urging the others to hurry. None of them wishing to incite Gault’s ire.

I turned back to the Fetch, to find her and Gault staring at each other like two strange cats.

“Sire—”

“You’re here, Melek. If you have caution, use it. But I would hear her speak.” Then he eyed her again. “Do not tell yourself my threats are empty. The moment I discover you have deceived me, I will open your belly with my teeth and drag you through the tent-city by your intestines—and when you die, I will fuck your remains.” Then he smiled and licked his lips, leaning in close to her. “Be careful what comes out of that mouth, you cunning little thing, or I will fill it with my truth. And if I must do it to your dead carcass, well… a wet hole is a wet hole.”

Despite my disgust, I was impressed that she didn’t even blink.

“What do you wish to know first?” she asked as if they were having casual conversation.

Gault smiled and sat back on his lounge, spreading his legs to display the threat of his bulge to her as he reclined. “Tell me… why we have been sitting here for over a week already?” he said with a flap of his hand to indicate the war camp. “What weapons have my enemies developed? What has arrested our progress?”

Her eyes narrowed slightly before she answered. “The enemy of my enemy is my friend,” she said quietly. Gault grunted and waited for her to continue. She sighed. “News of your advance reached my people months ago—which means that those pinned between your people and mine heard you were coming weeks before you arrived. They have wisely determined that banding together to defeat you is better than falling alone.”

It was exactly what I’d told him a week earlier, the first time we were turned back. We’d seen banners for both the Tuskarrians and the Zaryndar among the fighters. Had he not believed me? Or was he only checking her for honesty?

“Even banded together, they should not hold us so easily,” Gault growled with a dark look at me. “How do they manage it.”

She raised one brow. “You truly do not know?”

Gault’s expression didn’t change, but the air suddenly went thin with his disapproval.

She licked her lips and glanced at me before she spoke.

“The terrain at the western end of the continent does not give you the freedom to simply overwhelm them. Even you cannot just sweep through a battle waged among trees, swamps, and ravines. You must be much more strategic in your approach. Add to that… they have Aethereans among them. At least four, that we are aware of.”

I cursed. The Aethereans were wraithlike creatures with the ability to soul-bond—create links between themselves and others that would feed strength, energy, and power between parties and enhance any abilities that already existed. Some could communicate telepathically and even heal.

But a bonded Aetherean also took on some of whatever was within those they bonded. Which was why they avoided the Nephilim as if we were poison. Because to them, we were. After all, it was impossible to soulbond to something that lacked a soul. An Aetherean attempting to bond a Nephilim was suicide.

It was no surprise that they would choose to stand against us. But the Aetherean weren’t only rare, they were notorious loners, incredibly sensitive to the emotions of others, even those they hadn’t bonded. Standing on a battlefield would be torment to them.

To have one join a warring faction against us was stunning. Let alone four. That small fact changed the entire landscape of this war, and filled me with trepidation. But also relief. Because it explained how our most recent enemies seemed to coordinate their attacks—and retreats—so perfectly. And how our efforts to take the front so far had been met with such seamless maneuvering that we could never gain traction.

The first time we had advanced, we’d almost been surrounded. They’d kept me sweating ever since.

Shit.

“Is this true?” Gault growled at me.

“It makes sense,” I replied reluctantly.

Gault’s eyes narrowed as he turned back to the Fetch. “Do your people enjoy this… alliance?”

The Fetch shook her head. “We have no need. Our land creates a natural barrier and our reputation discourages confidence. Our neighbors have already learned to respect our boundaries. If they win, they’ll leave us alone. And if you do… well, we will defeat you without tying ourselves to the soul-suckers,” she said viciously.

It was said that while the Aethereans strengthened and enhanced any creature they bonded, their strength came from subtly pilfering some of the life-essence of the bonded one.

Did her comment mean that was true? Or was it just a curse on a people that she clearly despised?

I huffed, amused by her arrogance, but Gault’s expression went dark with loathing.

Quick as a snake, he stood and took her by the neck, lifting her off her feet and shaking her like a doll. She tried to fight, but his grip was too tight, and just as she had with me, she ended up only gripping his wrist and fighting for air while he held her by the throat and snarled in her face.

“The only reason you still live is because of my mercy, bitch. You will not live a moment beyond your usefulness—and your people will not survive beyond my descent. Answer my questions without taunts or barbs, or I will prove to you how powerless you are by turning my men on you to rip your flesh from your bones.”

Still gripping his wrist, she nodded. Or tried to. She couldn’t breathe and he was holding her entire bodyweight by that one fist clamped at her throat.

Despite my natural aversion to harming females, I couldn’t say I regretted his aggression. The Fetch were a massive threat to us—if for nothing else than that they could inform our enemies about us. Having one of them caught and informing was a coup.

Mind you, she wouldn’t be informing much longer if he didn’t let her breathe soon.

“Gault,” I said quietly. “She possesses very useful information—insight that could be the key to us finally taking this battle. If you kill her…”

He stared at me for a moment as if he were considering whether or not my words were disrespectful. Then he dropped her without a word, snorting when she landed on the ground with a thump and a wheeze. Then he turned on his heel and went back to his lounge.

I grabbed her upper arm so that she couldn’t flee. Her limb was so narrow I circled her bicep completely, my fingers overlapping in the fist. Her lithe stature tempted me to complacency. But I’d heard how easily a Fetch could melt into shadows to escape, even in broad daylight. I didn’t know if the rumors were true, but if she’d stayed hidden here for three days, there seemed no point testing them.

“I weary of this,” Gault muttered. “Take her. Interrogate her. Whatever you need to do, you have my permission. Get the information from her. Make sure she doesn’t escape. Then go win this fucking war so we can return home.”

“Yes, Sire, I just—”

“Do not forget that I hold you personally responsible for her, Melek. Do not let her escape. Kill her first.”

“Yes. Of course. Only—”

“Only what?”

I kept my eyes low, gritting my teeth. “Only… I am supposed to return to the front tomorrow. The information she provides may pave the way for our victory. But I cannot be in two places at once.”

Gault looked up from where he’d been scratching at a stain on his tunic. His eyes were gleaming, and his half-smile had an edge that made the hair on my neck stand up.

“The great warrior and General, Melek Handras, admits there is something he cannot do? How can it be?” he drawled. “The legends are clear, Melek: You regularly achieve the impossible. Or… haven’t you heard?”

I didn’t back down. These dark moods hit Gault every so often, and the Fetch’s taunts had no doubt landed a lot harder than he’d let on. So I swallowed back the curse and shrugged.

“I’ve told you how dangerous it is to listen to rumor, Gault,” I said with a wry smile.

The man snorted and flapped one hand. “Figure it out, Melek. Do what needs to be done.”

“I would just like your permission—”

“I said, figure it out. And bathe her while you’re at it. She reeks. If I’m to question her again or be in her presence, she needs to be clean.”

“Yes, Sire,” I said through my teeth, bowing to the King, and forcing the Fetch to her knees in front of him, before turning and pulling her out of his presence, my head spinning both with the knowledge she’d provided that needed further exploration, and with the problem of what the fuck was I supposed to do with her?

I was about to step out of the tent when I realized that while she was pale, there was new color in the high points of her cheeks, and we were about to cross the tent city.

I couldn’t risk losing her. And I didn’t want her dead—yet. Which meant I couldn’t risk her taunting any of the others who would leap into a rage at the smallest excuse.

I turned back to Gault, and cleared my throat.

“What?”

“You said anything … Can I make use of one of your ball gags?”

Gault’s head snapped up, his brows high—then he broke into a throaty laugh. “Melek Handras, Purveyor of the Impossible, and Pervert. Please, be my guest.”

He nodded towards one of the chests in the corner and I dragged her in that direction, ignoring the look of horror on her face as I used one hand to flip the heavy lid of the chest open and stir the contents within until I found what I was looking for—a ball-gag the size of a small apple on a pair of leather straps.

Her eyes went wide as I turned her around and shoved the ball into her mouth—or tried to. At first she fought me like a horse resisting the bit—teeth clenched and lips pressed tightly down.

“Take it, Fetch,” I growled. “It’s this, or death. There are no alternatives.”

Her brow furrowed, but a moment later she let go of her breath and reluctantly opened her mouth so that the ball slipped in behind her teeth, but over her tongue—keeping her jaw open but her mouth full. Even if she tried to speak, nothing would be discernable.

“Good girl,” I purred, just to piss her off as I turned her to tie the leather straps behind her head, tugging them tight.

A low, angry noise started in her throat that reminded me of a cat. But I ignored it. Nodding my thanks to Gault one final time, I pulled her hands behind her back and clamped both of her wrists in one hand, while I took a fistful of her hair and the gag-ties in the other and steered her for the door, snapping at the guards outside that we were coming out.

The guards—both those assigned to the royal tent, and the others that we’d sent to circle the perimeter—snapped to attention as I shoved her through the tent flap and out into the camp and we were bathed in the watery sunlight of the Dragtharn plains. A fist of my men surrounded me the moment we were clear of the King’s guards, all of them surprised and curious when they saw my prisoner, but there wasn’t time to explain. I marched forward, growling at them to keep eyes out for more intruders, then kept my own gaze peeled for any sign of her comrades that I had no doubt were watching, even if from a distance.

Fucking Fetch.

The sky overhead was mostly gray, matching the rugged boulders and craggy rock formations that pushed out of the dirt here like pimples on the ass of a giant. Formations that became more plentiful, and larger, the closer we got to the hills.

As near as we could measure it, our camp was at the southernmost border where the plains of Dragtharn became rolling forests and met Zaryndar. Our shelters sprawled at the base of a cluster of hills that shielded us from sight on the Zaryndar side.

The battlefront was half a day away and north—beyond Noctharrow Haven, the Dark City. Positioned at the intersection of the borders of three lands and populated mostly by thieves, it was a haven for refugees, merchants and travelers. But few within its fortress walls were willing to put their lives on the line for someone else’s nation. Even the Mercenaries went to Noctharrow to rest and relax. Most were more concerned with saving their own skins, and as long as they were offered safe passage, wouldn’t fight unless they were being paid coin. So, we’d taken the city almost effortlessly.

And yet, an hour’s march beyond that, where Zaryndar shared a border with Tuskarria and the plains turned to low mountains surrounded by swampland, we’d finally been forced to slow our advance.

When they weren’t fighting, our soldiers were camped a mile inside the front. But the strategic minds and the King couldn’t be within reach of the front in case we were turned back.

So, I placed the war camp here because the gnarled forest, rocky hills, and strange, scarred land allowed us to place watchers on high ground and in trees, and made the position difficult to approach unseen. At least, by creatures who walked with their feet on the ground.

The camp sprawled in a bowl of land that lay at the foot of the largest rock formations in this area. However, the strategic position for scouts and patrols left daily life wallowing in the mud of the hollow.

Hundreds of soldiers tents and campfires lay in an ever-widening spiral around the central, critical structures: The stables that housed our animals—a tent so large it was practically a pavilion and the only place we erected temporary fences—the segmented tents and bivouacs for medical aid, cook tents, blacksmiths, weaponry masters, hounds and handlers, and the countless other resources and people that were needed to keep an army alive and winning. And of course, the Royal marquee just south and west of center, because I’d urged Gault to make use of the rise of the land to position himself in a place even harder to be reached by enemies, and protected on every side by every able-bodied warrior in camp.

Or so I’d thought.

Here I was, shoving not just an enemy, but a fucking female ahead of me through camp.

When we reached the intersection of main paths—scattered with hay every couple of days in an attempt to keep the mud from actually sucking off our boots—I hesitated, considering which route was best to take her to my tent.

We were already drawing attention. Neph walking the paths or working alongside them, stopped to look and point at the prisoner. Surprised and curious, they called to their brothers to come see me marching a Fetch by her hair.

Between the scent and sight of a fresh woman, the stories would precede me to dinner tonight. Gritting my teeth, I chose the path that wove between the soldier’s tents and the stables. It would take longer, but we would meet fewer Neph and be less likely to incite a frenzy.

Leaning closer to the guard at my right—a young but strong male with amber eyes—I looked around to make sure there was no one else close enough to hear.

“Go see the Handlers. I need an empty hound cage brought to my tent immediately—in full working order. If they ask why, or try to delay, tell them the order comes directly from the King.”

“Yes, Sir!” His surprise was plain, but he didn’t question me, sprinting off in the direction of the stable-tents as I steered the Fetch, ignoring the shocked and amused looks of the men we passed.

I tipped my head at the next guard following at my heels and eyed her so he’d know not to speak openly in front of her.

“Has Jann been advised that I’m back in camp?” I asked quickly.

“Who, sir?” the young man asked nervously. I had to fight not to grind my teeth.

“Find a messenger and tell them that General Handras is personally sending for Jannus the Halfling—I need him in my tent as quickly as possible, delaying only if it affects our efforts in battle.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Another young man dispatched, another short tug of war with the Fetch who was trying to turn to meet my eye over her shoulder, but I wouldn’t allow it.

Somehow I needed to bathe her. And to delay our arrival at my tent so that the cage would already be in place. And then I needed Jann’s eagle eye on the entire picture—how the hell to make use of her, to test her insight and ensure it was true, and then to get to the battlefield myself to win this fucking thing when there were Aethereans involved.

Fucking fuck!

I inhaled deeply to calm myself, then regretted it immediately when I was drenched in the stench of mud and animal shit because we were close to the stable-tents. But as we rounded a corner on the trail and a handful of young guards cheered my name from behind me, a water trough caught my eye.

For the first time since I’d walked into the King’s tent, I smiled.

Two birds with one stone.

Sending a glance over my shoulder to the guards still following me, I warned them. “Stand back.”

They frowned, but slowed their pace as I wrapped an arm around her waist, lifted her to my shoulder, then took the two steps to the trough and dropped her into it, clothes and all.

Her muffled squeal was quickly silenced by the water. Taken by surprise and fully submerged in the narrow space, it took her a moment to realize her hands were free and she could grab the sides to lift herself out.

Every Neph in sight was laughing by the time she shoved herself up, displacing water in a noisy slosh that seemed too large for her small frame. Waves splashed to join the puddles in the mud when she reared out of the water, grasping for the metal side of the trough and bending, slumping against it, her shaking hands grabbing for purchase on its lip to keep herself upright.

I waited for the deep, wheezing inhale through her nose since the ball gag likely kept her from breathing through her mouth, but there was nothing. Just a bedraggled Fetch, sagging over the side of the trough, strands of her hair plastered to her face, her shoulders heaving… yet no sound.

The others continued to laugh and jeer, the younger ones moving on with their day, unaware of what she was, probably assuming she was just a human slave who’d been captured and brought back for whatever use I would put her to.

Then one of her hands slid off the top of the trough, and she dropped awkwardly against its side, her feet sliding out so that she slipped back into the water and—

I cursed, catching her by her hair as she was about to slide under the surface again and yanking her up to a sitting position. Which was when I saw how wide her eyes were, and how pale her skin.

Her lips, which had been invitingly rosy and plump when she was taunting the King, were now stretched wide over that ball and as white as her cheeks.

I frowned as our eyes locked.

“Time for a bath,” I taunted her. Her chin dropped, and at first I thought she was just glaring at me… but then she started scrambling for the gag, but it was as if her hands didn’t work properly—she batted at herself, jerking and pulling at the leather strap that had tangled with her wet hair, unable to get it loose.

I growled and reached for her again—she wasn’t supposed to take out the gag!—but then her head snapped up as I leaned over her and she grabbed me, shaking my arms, her chest heaving, but her eyes beginning to roll back…

Which was when it occurred to me that she still hadn’t breathed.