Page 19 of Wings of Lies (Daughter of the Seven Circles #1)

We broke through the trees, and Brock dragged me to Aspen. Who sat on a dead log sharpening his sword. Brock shoved me in front of him, making me stumble, and left. I clamped down on my cheeks, tasting blood, welcoming the physical pain over the emotional one .

I stared down at Aspen, hoping he couldn’t see the dried streaks of tears that stuck to my cheeks.

“I see Brock didn’t have to carry your limp body back. Wasn’t sure after your foolish display from earlier.” He continued to move the whetstone across the edge of his curved blade, brown locks hiding most of his face.

I refused to say anything.

“You didn’t listen to me.”

Listen to him? About what? Being a prisoner without the right to know things?

“Why would I listen to a word you have to say?” I snapped, clenching my teeth as I spoke to hold back more tears.

He finally lifted his head. Coffee locks scattered across his forehead as his eyes narrowed.

They roamed my face, glanced on either side of me, and then back to my face.

Despising his attention, I dropped my gaze to his neck and the silver chain that partially hid beneath his stiff leather uniform.

I imagined choking him with it. The skittering of feet prompted me to imagine more ways I’d kill him to escape.

The only good thing about my purple power was the ease at which it shoved every emotion away except my blistering anger.

“Cacus and Bael should be finding our dinner. I’d say make yourself useful, but the cuffs hinder that. I guess go sit somewhere until we eat.”

“Oh, and sweetheart?” My gaze jumped back to his at the condescending endearment.

“Don’t try to wander off. Not only are you powerless, but these ancient forests would swallow you whole and kill you.

That is, if I didn’t catch you first.” His glacial eyes flashed a bright blue before settling back to their normal color.

It happened so fast that I was sure I was imagining things .

“Whatever you say, asshole,” I said, then turned and left to find a place to sit.

Far from them, on the opposite end of camp, seemed like the best choice.

My back and wrists rested against one of the peeling white trees, shoulders aching—especially the one hit by lightning.

I sat at an angle and faced the thicker part of the woods.

They beckoned, whispering of freedom, of answers.

I shot a glance at Aspen, still sharpening his sword. A few feet away from him, Brock stoked a fire. But no one paid attention to me. The temptation to run and find a way to Magda’s was there.

I knew they were paying attention. It may not look like it, but they knew exactly where I was and what I was doing.

And if by any chance my jailor told the truth, then I wouldn’t make it a night out there, not with these cuffs on and not with having no supplies or survival skills.

That was what Oliver was for. Now, I had no one.

A heavyweight replaced the anger simmering in my core, removing the itching tickles.

I was helpless and alone. With no answers.

Something flashed in my peripherals. I stared in between the dimming gaps of the white trees, waiting. But the shadow was gone.

A twig snapped on my other side. I jerked.

“Jumpy?”

I squeezed my fists at his voice. Glaring, I tilted my chin up, eyeing two specs of red hidden in his swaying beard. His yellow eyes narrowed into the forest. I swung my neck back, looking again, but there was nothing.

“What’s out there?” I asked, regretting that I was talking to him but needing to know if my other jailor told the truth .

Brock grunted. “Anything and everything. From creatures that would burrow into your stomach to eat your intestines to healers that would attempt to save your life for a few coins. We’re in The Divide.

A place where there are no rules or laws for anyone.

It’s a free-for-all of sorts. Some live here, and many die here. ”

The Divide, so we weren’t in the Tenebrous Kingdom yet.

“You’re actually telling me?” I hadn’t expected such a thorough answer.

Weren’t his eyes just yellow? Now, they were the color of a fall leaf before it crinkled and fell.

His arms crossed. “Makes my job easier. So, you don’t think you can run off like all the rest.”

All the rest?

I opened my mouth and forgot what I was about to say as the burnt orange turned green. “Your eyes.”

A slow, pretentious smile answered me, covered partially by his thick mustache.

“That sliver of hope I still feel in you, it’s best you drown it.

No one is coming. No one is getting past our group.

And running will get you killed. You wouldn’t survive out there.

” He nodded down to my cuffs. “Not even a night. So please, save Prince Aspen and me the inconvenience of having to find your bleeding carcass.” With that beautiful description, he turned away and ended our conversation with a “Dinner’s ready. ”

He felt my dimming hope? What hope? I could barely feel it. He must’ve sensed the particles of dust squashed beneath the boots of betrayal and capture.

Marcus handed me over to a prince. Or maybe handed isn’t the right word.

Before they knocked me out, Marcus sounded surprised that some prince had shown up.

He wasn’t expecting him. But they all must be from the Tenebrous Kingdom, so why would it matter to Marcus if he took me to his sovereign or Prince Aspen?

My bottom and back were stiff by the time I decided to stand.

As much as I tried to ignore my stomach, its screams were too loud.

It didn’t help watching the four figures eat Cacus and Bael’s catches.

Although, how did they manage to collect food for everyone else and not just eat it all themselves?

Maybe they had their fill of Yant Foxes before they came back.

Nightfall crept in, casting long shadows across the campsite as I made my way over to the sputtering fire. Luckily, my princely jailor was gone. He disappeared into the woods along with the disgusting creatures. Brock was the only one left by the campsite.

“What can I eat?” I asked, keeping a safe distance away. Brock had utterly mortified me, but I was also starving.

Brock peered up from his stump. “Squirrel and rabbit,” he stated, holding out a metal plate with two chunks of meat, staring back into the fire as he did.

Was I supposed to grab it with my teeth? Or was this another reminder he was giving me, wanting to break down the last of my hope and rub the dust in my face? He smirked knowingly when I didn’t take it.

I bit my lip, feeling the itch, hating him even more.

He set it beside him. “Prince Aspen has your keys.”

Great.

I stood and waited for his arrogant bastard to return. While I did, a neon orange bug the size of a piece of rice landed on my arm. Another landed next to it.

“Firewings. Don’t let them bite you,” Brock said, unconcerned despite his warning .

I looked warily between him and the orange bugs. “Why?” They were cute.

“It burns. And once bitten, it’s a beacon to its swarm that they’ve found a meal.”

Wonderful.

“But don’t squash them either. It’ll end with the same result.”

Gritting my teeth, I asked, “What the hell do I do then?”

He shrugged, then said, “They don’t like fire.”

That was ironic.

I leaned my left side near the fire. The uncomfortable heat pinkened my skin, and the bugs flew into the night sky. I followed their bright bodies, wishing I could escape as easily as them.

The food was cold by the time my arrogant jailor came back. But it didn’t matter. I’d eat it. My body needed food.

As he approached, Brock gestured to my plate, then my hands. “She can’t eat. And if I fed her, she’d likely bite my fingers off.”

He never offered that option. Although, the thought of maiming one of them brought a twinge of happiness. But it wouldn’t have made a difference. I’d rather kneel on the ground and shove my face into my plate of food like a stray dog than let those worn, calloused fingers come near me ever again.

Like I had a choice.

My princely jailor walked directly into my path, adorned with a cloak similar to Brock’s, only black.

He inserted himself in the small space between me and the fire.

I wished I could have held my ground and make him back up a few steps, so he’d catch fire.

But this was where hopes and wishes died. Instead, I was the one to back up.

“I don’t think she has the guts to bite anyone’s fingers off. Do you? ”

I narrowed my eyes. A trickle of indignation tickled the tips of my fingers. “Wanna find out?”

His cold gaze slowly roved over me, taking in everything from my wavy limp locks to my scrawny ankles. By the muscle pumping in his jaw and the ire warping around his chilling gaze, I could tell he found me lacking.

“No. I want you to eat your food and be quiet,” he snapped, walking around me to unlock my cuffs.

The release of my wrists eased the tension in my shoulders, pulling out a blissful sigh from my mouth. Finally, I stepped toward my plate, eager to sink my teeth into the food, not caring it had a rubbery sheen. Inches away from snatching up the plate, my arm jerked back, tethered to something.

What the…

My eyes traveled down my arm, to the metal cuff, to the other metal cuff attached to a thick muscular wrist, and back up to the expressionless mask on my princely jailor’s face.

“Seriously?”

“The cuffs don’t work unless they’re both locked,” he stated, glaring at me like I was the one who forced him to cuff himself.

“Uh, you couldn’t, I don’t know, cuff the same wrist twice? Or lock them in front of my body instead of chaining me to…” I eyed him up and down, giving him a taste of what it felt like, and snorted. “Well, you.”

He tensed as his eyes… Glowed? The firelight highlighted his left side, leaving his right in shadow. But both his eyes and something red under his chin were lit.

“Remember she wants her alive, Prince Aspen,” Brock said, carving into a chunk of wood. Unphased .

“Eat your damned food!” my jailor yelled, taking one step closer.

“Gladly!” I screamed back but lost my bravado when his eyes erupted in blue flame.

“Scream at me again, and I’ll dump you and your food into the fire!”

Frozen, I stared. What the hell was that?

“Eat!”

I stepped back from the ferocity of his voice, no longer craving to test him.

What in my right mind made me want to in the first place?

He had flames for eyes. He was corded in muscle and wore a sword and daggers on his hip that couldn’t possibly be for show.

And I had what? Ice and flames when I was emotional?

Powers that the cuffs now blocked unless I felt like electrocuting myself.

My shoulders slumped as I turned. His one step closer barely gave me enough slack to touch the plate with my fingertips.

After wiggling it into my palm, I stood and gazed at the rubbery thighs.

Bits of white fuzz speckled the meat. Despite their gross state, my fingers trembled from holding back. My hunger was a needy, depraved thing.

“Is it drugged?”

“No,” he said at the same time Brock said, “Maybe.”

Believing the princely jailor, I jerked my chained wrist, latched onto the bony meat, and devoured every morsel. Cooled juices slid down the sides of my cheeks, and I ended up wiping them with my bare arm.

“Cacus and Bael have better manners than you do,” Brock said, lip lifting in disgust.

I found that doubtful and flipped him off. “Go to hell. ”

In less than a second, something swiped at my feet, and I fell onto my back, bones and plate flying from my hand while the other dangled in the air.

“Insult me again, and we can have some fun,” Brock said, stepping on my wrist. Without his full weight, it wasn’t too bad. Until he put more weight into the step, then pivoted back and forth, grinding my bones together. My gasps turned into whimpers. “Would you like that?”

“No, I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t,” I begged.

“That’s enough, Brock.”

Brock jerked his head up, shot my princely jailor a scowl, and then glanced down at me disgusted. “Glad we understand each other.” He pressed harder, giving me his last punishing pivot. I cried out, and my princely jailor shoved Brock off me.

“I said stop!”

But he couldn’t get Brock off me fast enough. Agony slammed into my wrist, and it snapped.

I bit my lips hard, muffling the wail, as Brock stalked off.

Tears trailed silently down my cheeks as I lay on the ground, refusing to move. My dangling arm lowered. The chain jangled, and with a soft chink and snap, my unbroken wrist flopped to the ground, heavier.

“You should have never come through that portal.”

I twisted my head to meet his glowing eyes. Rage, unlike any I’d ever seen, twisted his princely face.

And I—weak, alone, broken—agreed.