Page 19

I shiver, drawing my cloak tighter around me, sunken in my defeat. He returns, clothed in his cloak and boots this time, with my bag slung around his shoulder. He pulls it free, tugs it open, and shakes the contents onto the ground. Out falls the two leather canteens I nabbed from him, my folded map, the small amount of food I’d been able to stash away. All the knives have already been lost. He stares down at the meager amount of items, radiating pure condemnation. “How far did you think this was going to get you?”

“I—“ I had more food , I want to say. But Div kept eating it. I break off, not wanting to reveal that Div was aiding me. He leans down, picks up one of the canteens and hands the other to me. I want to refuse. My insatiable thirst refutes me. I unscrew the cap and take several eager swigs as he peels the paper from the ground and unfolds it. A sinking sense of mortification envelopes me as he scrutinizes my crudely drawn map, expression indecipherable.

Crumpling the map, he tosses it, looses a sigh, and sinks to his knees in front of me. Unclasping the cloak from around his neck, he draws a symbol and begins tearing shreds from the bottom.

“Let me help you?” He nods his head toward my arms, which are a mess of dried and fresh blood. I watch him warily as he slowly reaches forward, like he’s seeking to initiate contact with a wild animal as he fits his palm under mine and tugs my arm taut.

He waves his hand over my arm, and the blood dissipates to reveal a string of gashes and welts torn from the roots. More blood trickles out as he starts tying the ripped strips of fabric over them. “I could seal them,” he explains softly, gesturing toward the sealed cut on his head. “But I’m not very good at healing, and it comes with risks. I’d have to reopen them when we get back to clean them, so it’s not really worth the hassle.” His eyes flick up to mine, brows drawing together. “You’ve lost a fair bit of blood. How do you feel?”

Like death.

I turn my head, staring off into the ghostly woods. Just because I can’t escape him doesn’t mean I have to be docile about my imprisonment. I bite back a wince with the shifting of my injured shoulder as he grabs my hand but his movements remain delicate and fastidious as he ties the strips around my arms.

“Why are you doing this?” I ask hoarsely.

He looks up briefly and back down. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“What—“ I break off, intending to ask him what it is he wants from me but I recall his earlier response to that question. He doesn’t. “Why am I here?” He sucks in a slow breath, eyes drifting up toward the star-strewn sky. “What purpose do I have here?” I ask, referring to Morin’s earlier words.

“Morin…saw an opportunity to punish me, so she took it.”

“Punish you?” I ask slowly, and he nods. I use my free hand to point at my chest. “ I’m the punishment?”

“Yes.” The word is pushed through his teeth as if it causes him physical pain. He gestures a hand toward me. “Because you’re a nought.”

I frown, reflecting on the general attitude toward me from the soldiers. “Because it’s embarrassing for you? To be married to me?”

“That’s the idea,” he says curtly.

There has to be more . “And?” I ask.

He closes his eyes for a short moment. “And my heirs won’t be as powerful.” Heirs, meaning children. Our children. My eyes widen and he hastily lifts a hand. “D-don’t worry. I don’t intend to make you share my bed. That’s not even a concern of mine. However that is the intention.”

“Will we be expected to….have children?” The words are like ash in my mouth.

“They can expect all they want. It’s not going to happen,” he assures me, face hard with resolve. He finishes with the last tie and settles back against his palms.

Well, he definitely deserves to be punished, doesn’t he? I cross my arms over my chest, holding back a wince with my shoulder injury. “Good,” I say haughtily.

His brows shoot up his face. “Good?”

“I’m glad to be a punishment ,” I say, mouth caressing that word. “To you .”

There’s a blink of surprise before he breaks with a deep, rumbling laugh. My scowl thickens. “What?” I snap. He merely shakes his head with another laugh. “Why bother retrieving me, then? If I’m a punishment to you?”

His chest sags with a breath. He opens his mouth, closes it again. “I’m not—I made a vow to you, did I not?”

He’s really going to sit there and pretend he believes in the sanctity of this marriage? After he… “Please,” I scoff.

“Look,” he says, eyes growing hard. “Whether I wanted this or not, you’re here now, and that means I’m responsible for you. I’m not going to let you run off to the fucking Blood Wood of all places and get yourself killed.” He looks off, jaw flexing.

“What do you care?”

“Despite what you may think of me, princess , I’d like to have less blood on my hands, not more.”

I snort, and his brows furrow as he pins his concentrated fury on me. I fight the urge to shrink under it.

“What do you even think you’re doing?” he scolds, gesturing wildly to the Wood around us. “You can’t possibly think you’ll make it all the way back to Eden from here. I’m surprised you made it as far as you did.”

“I’m not going back there.”

His eyes flash and cool in recognition, and his face softens with a pitying look. That’s the last thing I want from him . I shouldn’t have even confided that in him. “How did you find me?”

“Dragons have a much keener sense of smell than you and I. Lucky for you, as you were about thirty seconds from becoming a meal.” He blows out a breath through his nose, gesturing up and down with his pointer finger. “A snack more like.”

I look around the otherwise empty clearing. “The dragon…is yours?”

The corner of his lip quirks. He lets out a chuckle so low it rakes across my skin and stands my hair on end. “That was me.”

I stare at him blankly. It takes me an age before I can make any sense of it. “You…were the dragon?”

He laughs again. “Yes, although I’m surprised you even know what they are.”

My eyes widen, pulse quickening with fear and…something else too. Intrigue . No, he’s a witch and, even worse, a murderer.

“Look, you and I need to come to some sort of understanding here. I was ordered to marry you, and you’re here now whether either of us likes it or not.” He kneads a hand over his forehead. “I’ll admit I don’t exactly know what to do with you, but I don’t have any intentions other than…trying to keep you alive in this place that will most definitely rather see you dead.”

“And I’m supposed to just believe that?”

“Yes,” he says fiercely. “Why wouldn’t you? I have saved your life, protected you countless times now. From the Masks, the mylings, the shadow wolves, and tonight, the Bonewalker.” He throws up his hands in exasperation. “What other proof could you possibly need to believe that you can trust me?”

“Mylings?”

“Devilish little creatures.”

I send him another vacant look.

“They alter their shape, so I’m not sure how they appeared to you, but—“ He searches my face for recognition. “When you insisted on wandering off to take a piss?”

My brow furrows. “The…children?”

“Well, I mean, technically, they were children at one time, but they’re definitely not that any—wait—“ He leans back and freezes, face twisting in horror. “Is that how they appeared to you?”

“That’s what they were.”

His lips part into a silent o. “Because of the locket. Did you…you thought….you were scared of me,” he murmurs as he pieces it together. “That’s why you ran…”

“I’m not scared of you,” I mutter out rather unconvincingly.

“Right.” He smiles, but it’s fleeting. “Listen, you understand that those weren’t children, though, right? Technically, they’re the souls of them, but they’ve been corrupted. They most definitely would’ve attacked you.”

My brows crumple. It really hadn’t made sense for children to be out there in the middle of the wilderness, yet…it looked so real. I hear those words again. You know nothing of the world outside of the Wall.

I can feel him scrutinizing me, and a flush works over my cheeks. I draw my knees up to my chin and dip my head to let my hair curtain my face. If those weren’t children…then this whole thing was bred out of my stupidity. I put our alliance at stake, put Syra at stake over a misunderstanding.

No…he did hurt me, and he told Morin he’d like to discard of me.

“This is making a lot more sense now,” he grumbles, dragging his hands over his face. He drops them and searches mine. “But you do believe me, right?”

I nod, fiddling with the ties on my arm. When I peek back up, he’s staring at my arms too. “Okay,” he sighs. “I think we’re making progress here, and I think we should continue this conversation, but the Bonewalker isn’t the worst thing out here in the Blood Wood, and it’s going to take us some time to get back.” He reaches a hand toward my foot, and I flinch back. “What happened to your shoes?” he admonishes.

“Sandal broke,” I mutter, hiding my bloodied and scraped feet under my gown.

He tugs himself to his feet, leering over me, looking every bit the dark witch I sought to escape as he stares off in between the shadowy trees. “I don’t know where you were hoping to get to, but you were never going to make it.” His eyes dart down to me as he quirks a brow. “Will you come willingly, or do I have to drag you back?”

“What are you planning to do with me?”

His answering shrug is both dramatized and exasperated. “Keep you alive?”

It’s not like I have much of a choice, really. I can’t stay in this god-forsaken place. I work a swallow. “I want my locket back.”

“You can’t keep that.”

My face falls.

“You don’t understand what it does to me. Even that small amount has been dampening my magic, and it makes me feel terrible.”

“It does?”

“I thought it was you making me feel that way.” He snorts. “I should’ve realized. Especially after finding your bag of tricks.” His eyes drift back down to my arms and he sighs. “We really need to go.”

I climb to my feet, wincing and swaying a little. He lays a hand against my injured shoulder to steady me, and I let out a hiss of pain, cringing away from his grasp. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m fine,” I say through my teeth.

“Let me see.” He reaches for the clasp of my cloak, and I bat at his hands. He is far too comfortable touching me.

“It’s fine.”

“If you don’t let me see, then I will lock your limbs.”

This is exactly why I want to keep the locket, so I’m not at the mercy of his magic all the time. I go rigid as he undoes the clasp at my neck, and my cloak thumps to the ground. He paws at me, testing my injured shoulder and comparing it to the other one. “I need to fix it.”

His face is so close to mine that I can make out every curling lash. I hike a step back. “Fine, then.”

“It’s going to hurt.”

“Fine.”

He quirks a brow. “Would you like a countdown?”

“No.” No sooner than the words have left my mouth, he flicks his hand and his magic fills my injured shoulder. My arm pops back into place with an audible crack. I heave a breath, the blood draining from my cheeks, but remain otherwise silent, practiced in keeping my pain hidden.

He studies me, looking mildly impressed. “I expected more complaints.”

“Thank you,” I say, thrusting the words out in a way that sounds a lot more like fuck you.

“You’re welcome,” he says, voice lilted with amusement. He bends down to retrieve my cloak. When I reach out to take it from him, he pulls it out of reach. “You should keep your arm still.” He starts to wrap the cloak around me before he pulls it back with a bedraggled breath. “You’re a mess.”

He’s right. Smudges of blood cover my dress, some even coloring the ends of my hair.

He gestures quickly, and the stains dissipate. I stare at the place the stains were a second before. As many times as I’ve seen it now, his magic in action, it still doesn’t feel entirely real. I avoid his gaze as he re-clasps my cloak around my neck. Or his cloak rather, the one I stole from his wardrobe. He does me this one courtesy in not mentioning it.

He turns around and pats a hand over his other shoulder. “Get on.”

I stare at him in bewilderment. “I’d rather die.” I sidestep him and stumble over a tree root in the process.

“Easy or hard way, Nought. Choice is yours.”

“I can walk.”

“You’re spent. I think a good gust of wind might blow you over. Plus, you don’t have any shoes. It’s this, or you’re getting tossed over my shoulder. Or I could carry you like this,” he offers, holding his arms out as if to carry a baby.

I shake my head vigorously. No, I’m not climbing on top of him. He starts forward. “Wait—“ I say, panicked. “I—I’ll get on.” My cheeks flame mercilessly as he turns to offer me his back. Our varying heights are going to make this difficult. “You’re going to have to bend down a little.”

He snorts softly but bends his knees to where I can reach him. I stiffly wrap my one good arm around his neck. “Hold on with your legs, so you’re not aggravating your shoulder.” I’m practically sweating with the sharp flashes of heat accosting me despite the cool night air as I loosely wrap my legs around his middle. My breath catches as he grips the bottoms of my thighs and leans forward to pull me more tightly against him.

There’s a prickle against my skin as his magic settles across me, holding me in place, so it takes very little effort on my part.

He strides forward, smooth and confident, and I’m once again encompassed by his…scent. Pressed even more tightly together than when we’d been on the horse. I’m much too aware of where our bodies meet, my thighs stretched around his sides, and my legs wrapped around his middle. One of my arms is curled around his chest, hand closed into a fist to touch him the least amount possible. My other hand is resting awkwardly against his back.

My heart flutters chaotically in my chest. I’ve barely been in the company of men, let alone pressed so close to one. I study the way the back of his hair is shaved so close to the scalp. The longer bits on top spiraling in silky curls. What would it feel like to touch it? Bristly and then soft?

“You’re quiet, nought,” he murmurs, startling me from my thoughts. “Plotting your next escape attempt?”

“No.” My voice comes out breathy and dazed. I shake my head and clear my throat. Surprisingly, I’m not planning another escape attempt, seeing as this one was an utter failure.

At least not yet.