Page 4 of The King has Fallen (The Kingdom of the Krow #1)

~ MELEK ~

With a muttered curse, as she began to slump forward, flailing, I grabbed for those leather ties and tried to yank them loose—but between twisting them with her hair when I was leading her through the camp, and the fact that both her hair and the thin leather were now wet, it was all hopelessly tangled.

Pulling a dagger from my belt, I shoved her head down. “Don’t move, I need to cut it out.”

Then I slid the blade under the strap and sliced it cleanly—along with a strand or two of her hair—then let go and stepped back as she spat the gag out, coughed, then sucked in a massive, wheezing breath.

“What the fuck?” I asked her bluntly. “You can’t breathe through your nose?”

She was still panting, still gripping the side of the trough like it was a lifeline, but she shook her head.

“Not… not when my nose and throat are full of w-water… you fucking psycho!” she rasped.

I grunted. “Well, it’s clear that you can breathe now, harpie,” I shot back, then reached down to agitate the water, splash it over her head and shoulders, and grabbed a bar of saddle soap that had been left on the fence, rubbing it over her clothes and hair.

“What the—what the hell are you doing?!” she shrieked, slapping at my hands and trying to twist away, but her movements were restricted by the narrow trough, and my grip on her shoulder keeping her seat firmly in the bottom of it.

“I’m getting you clean as the King ordered,” I muttered. “Take a breath.” It was the only warning I gave her before dunking her backwards into the water again, like I was baptizing her.

She gasped, went under, arms flailing, then came back up spluttering and spitting like a cat.

“This isn’t a bath!” she hissed.

“It’s as close as you’re going to get,” I retorted, scrubbing her hair and the front of her shirt, ignoring the warm softness of her body underneath that thin leather because she was a fucking Fetch, and she had a shriek like a banshee.

Then I held out the bar of soap to her. “Now, do you want me to do your ass and legs for you, or will you do it yourself like a good little girl?”

I couldn’t resist the taunt, and chortled when she snatched the soap out of my hand and began scrubbing at her clothes under the water.

“This isn’t a bath because I’m still clothed,” she snapped, but didn’t stop scrubbing.

“You’re welcome to remove them if you wish,” I offered sweetly. She glared up at me and I stared indifferently back. “Be grateful I didn’t give you to the soldiers to bathe. Most of them haven’t touched a woman in weeks. There would have been nothing left of you an hour from now.”

She scowled, but continued to wash as best she could while still fully clothed and in the narrow trough.

I stayed close, but straightened, folding my arms and watching over her grimly until the trough was full of lather and Fetch dirt, and she placed the bar of soap on the fence with a shaking hand, then turned slowly to look at me again.

“I think… I mean, that’s it.”

“Very good.”

I yanked her up by the back of her shirt and she yelped as half the sudsy trough water came with her. She was still stumbling, trying to find her feet, when I lifted her again and plonked her into the next one to rinse her.

She made a strangled yelp but had the presence of mind to suck in a breath this time as I dunked her again, holding her under for a second or two, before pulling her up and out.

Her eyes were squeezed tightly shut and she spluttered, gasping, gripping my wrists, but she didn’t struggle, wisely focusing on preparing for the next dunking.

I grinned and pulled her out of that trough as well, setting her on her feet and grabbing her wrists again, and her hair, steering her through the camp, lifting her back to her feet when she stumbled.

“This isn’t n-necessary,” she said through chattering teeth after we’d been walking for a moment. “I would just w-walk where you showed me to walk.”

“Keep your mouth shut, or I’ll send a runner for another ball-gag,” I said sourly, pissed off that I’d been saddled with this fucking complication at exactly the wrong time.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” she snarled. “God forbid someone use clever words against your beefcake.”

“I only gag the obnoxious ones,” I shot back. “The rest make very different noises.” Her face went tight as I smiled. “Be grateful you’re in my hands, not the King’s. He wasn’t lying when he said he’d gag you with his member.”

“And I wasn’t lying about biting it off.”

“So, you Fetch eat your males alive, do you? Presumably after the mating, otherwise they’re no use to you at all.”

“One could argue they never were,” she said dryly.

I shoved her a little into the next step.

“Are you Fetch descended from the spiders? I hear the Jabaya eat their males. I suppose that would explain why you like the shadows so much.”

“Do not compare me to those creatures of the dark—” she started, indignant.

“Don’t splutter, Jabaya . It doesn’t become you.”

“You laugh now, you fucking devil, but just wait until—”

Rage constricted my chest and I tightened my grip on her hair, dragging her to a halt and yanking her head back so she was bent backwards and looking up at me, her spine arched close to snapping, her eyes wide and teeth bared, glaring up at me.

“One more word and I will get the gag again, and this time if something stops you breathing, I won’t assist,” I snarled.

She couldn’t close her mouth properly because I had her stretched too far back, her breath tearing in and out of her throat. But even though she struggled against my grip, she didn’t say anything. And her face went two shades whiter.

With grim satisfaction I filed away the knowledge that something about being gagged—or perhaps the threat of suffocation—was a fearful prospect for her and growled in my throat.

“So you can keep your tongue from flapping when you decide to. Good. We have only a short walk until—”

“General! General Handras!”

I looked up to find the original soldier I’d sent running, sprinting back towards me.

“They’ve delivered the cage, Sir,” he said, sliding to a halt at my side, panting, but bright-eyed. “They want to know if you understand the levers?”

“Yes,” I growled. “Tell them to leave it.”

He nodded, then took off running again and I smiled at his back, then smiled broader as I looked down at her, where she arched awkwardly back over my fist gripping her wrists. Her foot kept sliding out from under her.

“Your new home awaits, Fetch,” I spat, then pulled her upright again. “Keep your mouth shut and I might even give you a towel.”

My tent was only two minutes walk from where the soldier had found me, in the shade of a large tree that helped keep it cool in the heat of the day and sheltered the ground from rain as well. So soon I was pushing her ahead of me through the tent flap and into the much dimmer interior of my tent.

Normally it was my practice to keep things simple. Easy to pack and move at a moment’s notice. So all my things were kept in a very few trunks and chests, each small enough to be moved by one man, alone. But there was a very large bed taking up the back wall of the tent because Gault had insisted that all the high-ranking officers retain beds for sleeping, even though most of our men rolled themselves into furs on the ground at night, and only a portion had narrow hammocks or cots.

But Gault wouldn’t be without his comforts, and insisting that the higher among us had them as well obscured his own indulgence. I hated how it had come about, and the efforts the servants were forced to expend to move these things every week or so. But not enough to reject the opportunity to rest on a mattress each night.

Other than the bed, there was a frame of thin, and folding screens for privacy which hid the crates of my clothing and armor. There was a small round basin that sat atop a tall wooden crate with a pitcher of water for washing, a table and two folding chairs just big enough to be used for a meal, a long trunk for my weapons, another for my books and maps. And now, nestled up against the side of the tent that was tight against the face of a sheer, stone cliff so it offered no freedom at all even if she cut through it, was a large, steel-framed cage.

“Home sweet home,” I muttered, then tossed her inside and had the door slammed closed and latched before she’d even found her way back to her feet.

~ YILAN ~

Melek threw me into the cage so abruptly, I ate dirt and was still stumbling back to my feet and turning to scan the space behind him when a thin towel hit me in the face, followed quickly by a heavy blanket, and… a small pillow of all things.

I caught the plump little square and stared at it, stunned. Why would he—

“Step back. All the way back, I want your ass eating the bars and your shoulders pinned against them.”

I blinked and looked up at him where he stood just outside the door of the cage, glaring.

For a moment I was struck by the sheer size of him.

I could stand up in the cage easily. Would barely be able to reach the overhead bars when I stretched. He would have had to duck to get inside and could have rested his hand atop the cage and gripped it without stretching at all.

I swallowed as his chest swelled, and my eyes followed the planes of his pecs up to his shoulders—round as a bull’s and just as heavy—the tendons that supported his thick neck, and that jawline, sharp enough to cut glass.

He raised one brow in a wry arch, and it hit me that I’d been standing there, staring at him. I quickly shuttered my expression and backed up against the opposite side of the cage. He waited until my ass and shoulders were, indeed, hard against the steel bars, before he unlocked the door once more and leaned in to place a bucket just inside, before closing and locking it again.

I looked at the bucket, realized that it was intended for my toilet, and had to swallow bile. “Such hospitality,” I sneered, then locked eyes with him, wondering if he was expecting me to still stay silent.

When he turned away from the cage, I picked up the towel and started rubbing it against my wet clothing and hair, watching him warily.

“It isn’t hospitality. You now have something to lose. And trust me, Fetch, I’ll make certain you lose everything unless you cooperate.”

“I was already cooperating before you tossed me in the horse trough,” I pointed out.

He stopped at the base of the monstrous bed at the center of this otherwise almost bare space and started unstrapping and unbuckling. Leather and steel fell to the dirt, to the fur on the bed, all around him, as the man seemed to produce weapons from nowhere… including my favorite throwing knife which I had thought was still sheathed at my ankle under my trousers. But as he slipped it from somewhere in his waistband, he held it up, smiling at me before tossing it onto the bed.

I scowled. He must have got it when I was distracted with the bath.

“You can glare all you like. But you’re going to discover that I am a male of discipline and honor. And if you carry yourself similarly, you’ll remain safe—and somewhat comfortable,” he added, nodding at the towel and pillow. “But if you work against me, or make things difficult—if I find out you’re lying—I will apply my intelligence and discipline to tormenting you as assiduously as a bee seeking pollen.”

“That’s an awfully big word, General,” I said dryly.

“If you need an explanation to understand anything, let me know, because I want to be clear: If you bring truth willingly, I will keep you fed, clothed, and unviolated. But only if your words prove true. Either you sing for me, answering every question I ask and half the ones I don’t. Or you spend the remainder of your very short life screaming at the hands of the males outside this tent who do not have my attendance to honor.”

“No attendance to honor? Surely you jest, ” I muttered, my blood chilling as my mind conjured just a handful of the things I’d seen in this camp since I arrived. “Your comrades are not simply lacking honor, General. In most cases, they seem to lack simple reason.”

He gave me a dark look. “Since you’re so astute, no doubt you have gathered that many of my comrades don’t have the foresight to consider that you might bite their cocks off… And since you are blessed with reason, I’m sure you can understand that even if you were successful in separating them from their members, it would not remove what they may have done to you before you got your teeth into them.”

I watched him, rage bubbling in my chest when he smiled. But I stuffed it down.

“I take your point. I will answer whatever you wish—if I know it. I cannot be honest if I am expected to create answers I do not have.”

His eyes narrowed. “Just like that, ay? Any answers I please?”

“I told your King the same.”

He huffed and turned away, muttering so low I almost couldn’t hear him. “I would not trust a Fetch anyway… but even less so now. You are far too quick to comply.”

“Or I am far too intelligent to deny when I have been bested,” I said carefully. “And I want to stay alive. Very little in this life is worth dying for.”

He arched one brow. “I notice you do not say nothing is worth dying for.”

“No, I didn’t.”

He held my gaze for a long moment then, and the roof of my mouth went dry.