Page 8 of The King has Fallen (The Kingdom of the Krow #1)
~ MELEK ~
Two hours later, I rewarded her by untying her bonds and putting her back in the cage. She groaned when her hands were released, working them carefully, opening and closing her fingers and rolling her wrists without a word. I left her to herself in the cage while I stepped outside with Jann to discuss details where she couldn’t hear us.
Before he pushed through the tent flap, he looked over his shoulder at her, smiling. He opened his mouth like he might farewell her as a friend, but he caught my frown and closed it again, though he chuckled.
“Do you believe her?” I asked him without preamble when we reached the glowing campfire twenty feet from the tent, keeping my voice barely above a whisper so she couldn’t catch it.
Jann’s brows rose. “I believe the strategy is realistic, but risky. An enemy never moves the way we expect. With that said… it’s far better than anything we’ve come up with so far. The question is how to avoid the sinkholes while we’re still on the ground and stalking the guards and runners. We can’t afford to let any escape.”
It was the same thought I’d had. So extremely risky—and yet, if it worked… it would save lives and time.
“Do you think she’s setting us up to be defeated by her people?” Jann asked.
I snorted. “Of course she is. The question is, has there been a specific ambush planned, or does she just know the terrain enough to know what would disadvantage us in meeting the Fetch. She seems to have a great deal of trust in the Shadows of Shade…”
We talked through all the questions that remained—and for which we had no answers—then I sent Jann off to share the idea with our strategists.
“…tell them, if we’re going to do this, we must have taken the ground before the Covenant Days of Peace. We need them tired and weary, not rested and sharp.”
Jann nodded, clasped my arm, pulled me into a quick hug, then stepped back.
“Don’t let her get under your skin, Melek. She’s toying with you. Play back.”
I grunted and farewelled him, before walking back to the tent, feeling suddenly very heavy and hulking and far wearier than I wanted to let on. But I pushed the selfish thoughts of rest and peace away, because they benefited no one.
As I took the final steps to the tent and braced myself in anticipation of the Fetch’s cutting comments to come, I was surprised to catch a very quiet, but very beautiful refrain riding the night-chilled air.
I hesitated before I stepped into the tent, cocking my head, unwilling to believe the lovely sound came from the source I suspected. But sure enough… in the near-silent night, a lone, feminine voice rose and fell in a stunning, but quiet, almost husky melody. And to my even greater surprise, her words were a love song.
…lay me in the arms of peace.
Lay me in safety, in the shade of the trees.
Feed me at the table of my enemy
Let not the shadow of death take me.
For your hand is power
And your heart beats for me.
I am safe, I am safe, in these arms.
The arms of peace—
She broke off the moment I flipped the tent-flap back. She had seated herself against the back of the cage, pulling her knees up to her chest—to keep warm, or just as protection? I didn’t know, but she was still working her hands, opening and closing her fingers, and rolling her wrists.
I took these details in with a glance, then turned away and refused to look at her, or let her know I was listening.
A moment later she hesitantly started singing again, though even quieter this time. I pretended to ignore her, busying myself with finding another blanket and pillow, a new bucket since her cage was now littered with the pieces of the earlier ones I’d offered her.
I swallowed at one point, frowning, surprised by the melancholy surge in my chest.
She had a strange but beautiful voice, and the eerie, raspy way in which she curled her tongue around the words strummed something inside me.
She stopped singing when I approached the cage, her large eyes scanning up my body until they locked on mine.
She was already pressed to the back of the cage, which meant there was no need to give her instructions to that effect, so I just let the warning rest in my eyes as I unlocked the door and threw in the blanket, pillow, and bucket for her.
She caught them easily, eyeing the bucket with distaste, but not commenting until I was already relocking the cage.
“Thank you,” she said carefully, her teeth clenched as if the words hurt her to speak.
“I told you—deal with me in honor, and you will be rewarded. Work against me, and you will die.”
She didn’t respond but looked at the pillow and blanket in her lap.
“Still… thank you,” she said carefully.
I shrugged and stalked over to the bed, throwing myself into its soft embrace for the couple of hours I had left before breakfast.
My body was well-trained to grasp sleep whenever possible, so I slipped into the dream immediately. A dream of shifting shadows, wicked smiles, whispered threats, and yet through it all that voice rose to dance with the clouds, singing of peace and love and safety in that eerie rasp that was somehow beautiful, frightening, and welcoming, all at once…
~ YILAN ~
I was woken from a deep sleep plagued by nightmares to the sound of marching feet and voices in the tent, speaking to Melek.
Startled and disoriented, I leaped to my feet in a defensive stance, aware only that I was caged and surrounded by huge, male bodies. But when none of them reacted to me, I blinked and the memory of the day before came rushing back.
Melek, only half-dressed in leather trousers, but with a bare chest and feet, stood at the end of his bed, arms folded across his massive chest. He barely glanced at me before returning his attention to the soldiers standing in front of him.
There were four of them this time. The first two, clearly older and more experienced, spoke quietly and with an efficiency of words.
But the two behind them surprised me.
One was a young lieutenant, trying very hard to be professional by submitting to the authority of the elders while attempting to hide his awe at the sight of the famous general—who was ignoring him. The other was very young. Barely twenty by human standards, I suspected. His eyes—pure gold—were wide, and his expression open and almost childlike. He beamed at Melek until his roaming eyes took me in and widened even further.
He stared at me like a child would, and I stared back, smiling in response when he smiled. My heart squeezed, because as soon as he was facing me and I could meet those incredible eyes, I understood him, and a part of me was deeply shocked.
I hadn’t been wrong about the childlike nature. Those eyes were pure and simple. Quite beautiful… and a little empty.
He’d been standing at attention alongside the other young soldier, but when I smiled he beamed and started towards me. His body and gait were all healthy, vigorous man. Yet his eyes… his heart… were something else entirely.
I liked him immediately and feared for him in this brutal place because I knew what he was, and that meant he was desperately vulnerable here.
“Hello,” he whispered as he got close to the cage. “What’s your name?”
My smile was genuine. “I’m Yilan. What’s yours?”
“Gall.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Gall,” I said sincerely.
His smile got wider, but as he opened his mouth to respond, Melek obviously noticed and growled from the other side of the tent.
“Gall, stand back. She’s a prisoner. She’s not safe.”
“But she’s very polite!” he said, pointing at me with the short-spear he was holding so the steel tip almost brushed the side of the cage.
My heartbeat sped up, but I didn’t move.
“What have I told you about enemies, Gall?” Melek growled and shot me a warning look. “They will pretend to be your friends until they have a chance to betray you. She is an enemy. You need to trust me on that.”
The young man’s shoulders slumped. He frowned as he turned back to face me, his eyes searching mine as if he was looking for the dragon within me.
“I’m sorry, I have to do what he says,” he said quietly, but earnestly. “Thank you for being nice to me though.”
“I’ll always be nice to you, Gall. I have a sister who… reminds me of you. I am not your enemy.”
His lips twisted and his brow furrowed as he scratched the back of his neck. “Melek says that’s exactly what an enemy would say,” he said.
I nodded. “Melek is right… most of the time. And I am Melek’s enemy,” I admitted with an apologetic shrug. “But if you don’t try to hurt me, I won’t hurt you. I swear it.”
“Swear on what?” he asked, suddenly suspicious.
I grieved for a moment, knowing what kind of hurt must have happened to mold that sweet heart to suspicion.
“I swear on—”
“Gall!” Melek barked. “I said stay back!”
He looked over his shoulder to hurriedly give Melek reassurance, twisting his body but not stepping away, and that spearhead clattered against the cage bars.
With him facing away, I saw my moment.
I leaped forward, grasping the wooden handle of the spear and yanking it straight from his grip and into the cage, accidentally knocking his knuckles against the steel. Then, as I scrambled back and away from the bars, I whipped the spear around to point towards the four, huge Nephilim now rushing towards me.