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He'd left her with more questions than answers, but they were questions she no longer cared to ask. All there was left now was to wait for whatever was coming for her, and she faced it with resigned acceptance. The inevitable destruction of her world. Their fates were intertwined now, the three of them.
She would wait, and hope that somehow, Killian would change his mind. That he'd leave it to Blue to do whatever it was they were planning. That he wouldn't be there when the time came. For reasons she couldn't explain, she didn't want him present when she ultimately met her... their fate.
But that choice wasn't hers. It was his.
Legend had it that a powerful witch, abandoned and betrayed by her paramour for the sake of a young and beautiful scullery maid, had crossed through the once beautiful and thriving forest in a zig-zag pattern, burning and killing all life around her as she went in search of her scheming ex-lover. Her vengeful pursuit left only small patches of living pine forest scattered across the giant swaths of stark, barren land.
Crossing the Redlands, and surviving the journey, was practically unheard of. Long stretches of the cursed land were said to slowly drain the life and energy from every living thing. Whether some sort of natural enigma, or simply an exaggeration of the effects of lifeless desert on weary travelers, the Redlands were considered a sufficient barrier between the two unfriendly kingdoms. Prevarians knew better than to test the legends, and official delegations from both nations traveled to each other's capitals by sea.
As the Mortolfs approached the border marking the beginnings of the desolate patch of earth, the puzzle pieces snapped into place with terrible clarity, and she suddenly understood much more than she wanted to.
She clutched the leather straps wrapped around her wrists and squeezed tight, letting herself feel the pull of the desecrated land in front of them. There was magic here, strong magic, she could feel it even through the cage of the bracelet. It wasn't the Green, though. No, this was something else. Something sinister. And it was drawing her in, like a magnet. Calling to those parts of herself Blue had stirred awake last night.
She would wait.
But not for long.
.....................................
The myths and legends surrounding the Redlands served their purpose. Their crossing would be uninterrupted by misguided travelers or Venlen's lackeys. Once they were free of the cursed land, it was a short two day's ride to Karmora's capitol and the conclusion of this sanctimonious, bitter quest for vengeance. He would hand the girl over to Matteo and watch as she suffered the same fate as those he had promised to avenge.
How does that make you any different from him?
An annoyed growl rumbled through his chest at that fucking voice. He couldn't figure out why he was giving the voice the time of day. Why he let what felt like an entirely separate entity dictate the direction of his dark thoughts.
The terrible truth was, it didn't make him different. The fact that she would be suffering under a hand that looked nothing like his own was inconsequential. The moment Matteo's claws closed over her delicate wrist, any hope he might have had for absolution would be obliterated. He would deserve every ounce of misery that came for him after that final act.
But that was the trouble with hope. It was a miserable thing. Worse than fear. Worse than despair. Worse than pain and sorrow. Because the moment hope was inevitably ripped away, what was left was... Nothing. An emptiness that ate up everything in its path, until you were simply a vessel, dead in all the ways that mattered, just waiting for your body to catch up.
He tried to imagine what it would look like, that moment when hope was violently ripped from the little monster, when her eyes would go blank and the fire inside them would die forever. The thought should have brought him pleasure, or at least a measure of sick satisfaction. Instead, it brought him dread, and something else. It spurred on a fierce sense of possessiveness, of protectiveness. He tightened his arms around the girl, pulling her back snug against his chest. He wanted to shield her from the evils he was planning on unleashing. He wanted to protect her from himself.
She'd been silent all day, rigid and cold in his arms. What was going on in her mind? He suddenly wished the Miridyan bracelet acted more like the Fae bond, that it would allow him access to her thoughts and feelings. He needed to know how much last night had damaged her. More importantly, he needed to know that it hadn't broken her.
Initially, he had rejected the idea of forming the bond. Matteo would leave her alive only long enough to draw out the ultimate experience of suffering, and he hadn't entertained any thoughts of putting himself through the agony of that torn connection. The ruthless Commander might use another to bond her, or might even bond her to himself, but only to cause her further pain.
His heart seized at the thoughts of another man's dirty hands touching her, ripping clothes from her honeyed skin, painting her in bruises, forcing himself between her legs...
He pulled her closer against him, leaning in to speak against her ear. "You've been quiet." He trailed his lips down her neck, grazing the delicate skin there. He wanted to sink his teeth into it. She smelled like the lavender soap he'd purchased last night, and something else beneath that. Something sweet and fresh. She shivered and leaned her head back just slightly, giving him better access. He chuckled softly against her nape when she stiffened, remembering herself, and stood up straighter.
"What do you want me to say?" she asked, her voice short and clipped. Had he caught her off guard? He shrugged, his arms still around her. "You must have questions for me. We are from different worlds. What would you like to know about where we are heading?"
He immediately recognized his mistake, but the damage had been done. She had closed off again, her shoulders slumped forward. They both knew it was a land she would never explore. She'd never see anything outside of Matteo's compound. He thought she wouldn't speak again for the rest of the ride, but she surprised him by taking him up on his offer a while later.
"What are... these?" She gestured to the Mortolf they were riding. "You've called them Mortolfs."
He nodded, although she couldn't see him. "They're machines. Designed to be both a weapon and a means of transport."
"You're sending spies," she surmised. "And using them to terrorize the villages. Why?"
He was surprised. Was she that discerning, or was she merely parroting things she had heard from her father? "Why do you think?" he asked, genuinely curious. He sensed she had a theory, and he wanted to know what it was.
"You're planning an invasion. Have been, for a while now. Prevaria is a rich land. Under the council, our villages have prospered. Your father and King has slowly bled your lands dry. Your people are starved. Perhaps revolting? Starting a war with Prevaria creates a common enemy, and the promise of spoils would be incentive enough to recruit an army of sufficient size to take on ours. The Mortolfs create discord, weaken defenses. They prevent the villages from keeping sentries on the outskirts. It is a cowardly way to fight, taking the villages left vulnerable to violence, but your King has gone mad and left you few options. Tell me, was it you who came up with the plan to invade?"
He was rendered speechless. It had indeed been under his command that the South began preparing for war. He had ordered the design and manufacture of the Mortolfs, for the very reasons she had stated.
"You must be a crafty little spy. How many of those words were stolen straight from your sire's mouth?" He tried, and failed, to keep the snarl from his question.
She shrugged, never turning to look at him. "I'm light on my feet and small enough not to be noticed. I only hear bits and pieces when Amlen comes to visit. How the border villages are vulnerable and on edge. The need for increased numbers of Defenders. The inconsistencies of these attacks from mere terrorism. The rest is fairly obvious."
"I'm impressed."
"Why?"
"Not many women I know have a mind for politics."
She scoffed. "Are the women in your land as dimwitted as Bastard Blue over there? Perhaps it's something in your waters. You'll want to think of that when you're stealing ours. Smart women can be a dangerous thing for doltish men."
Killian laughed, a true, boisterous laugh, and realized it was the first time he had done so in years. His mood was lightened further when he felt her posture relax in response. Eoin shot him a dirty look from his place on the beast directly in front of them that he ignored, though he was likely too far away to have heard her words. "And why do you call him Blue?" he asked, still chuckling.
"His eyes," she answered simply. "And his... Aura. It's... sickly. Truthfully, I feel sad for him."
This surprised him. Eoin had been nothing but cruel to her. "And why is that?" he asked.
She shrugged again. A phantom wind blew wisps of her dark hair against his cheek. "I feel sad for you both. Whatever punishment you have in store for me will undoubtedly result in my death. I'm sure I will suffer, perhaps longer than I would imagine or hope, but it will end, and far sooner than yours. You will have to live the rest of your lives with your grief, your hate and your anger, and with the knowledge of what you have done, and that it makes you no better than my father."
Any good humor he had felt moments before were wiped away by her words. She could have no idea how close to his own dark thoughts she had come. He hated the resignation he heard in her voice, the acknowledgement of her doom. He wanted her to fight it, to fight him.
"You would accept your fate so easily?" There was a challenge in his words, one he hoped she would rise to.
She gestured to the wrist confined by the thin silver band. "You have cut off my ability to defend myself. Like your plans of invasion, it's a cowardly thing to do. I will fight you until the end, and you will have to drag me back to you every time I have a chance to run. But this, whatever this is, it's between you and him. I am apparently inconsequential aside from my ability to pay for the sins of my father. Why you care what I accept or do not accept baffles me."
He growled low in his throat. He hated everything she had said. That she thought she was inconsequential, even if he had started out thinking of her as such. The relaxed mood they had briefly shared was gone, and she was once again stiff in his arms.
"There's one thing I am curious about," she continued, startling him out of his brooding thoughts. "Why would the Prince himself, heir to the throne, the only heir, come to collect me himself? Is it because you wanted to personally deliver me to my fate? Or is this also a strategic move? Something to weaken and distract my father's Defenders?"
He didn't answer, which he supposed was answer enough. The girl was much smarter than he had initially taken her for, which only soured his mood further.
They rode in silence for the rest of the day, sharing small bites of food without stopping. He had crossed the Redlands before, and was mostly immune to how the lifeless terrain attempted to drain his energy, but he could feel Adrika's body weaken with exhaustion as the day wore on.
They reached the first patch of redwoods late into the night. Adrika was near unconscious and would have slumped off the Mortolf hours ago had he not been holding her up, even tethered to the Mortolf as she was. Too weary to even eat, the little monster laid her bedroll in the shadow of a redwood as far away from them as he would allow, as was her habit, and promptly fell asleep. He released his tight grip on the bracelet, just enough to allow her unconscious body to drink in energy from the abundance of life around them.
"What are you doing, Kill?" He had been watching over Adrika's sleeping form and hadn't noticed that Eoin had come to sit straight across from him. He tore his gaze away from her to lock eyes with the wicked blue of his oldest friend. The light from the small fire they had built danced across his Second's face, lending a demonic quality to his appearance. Killian had known this was coming.
"If you have something to say to me, Eoin, just say it." He was sick of the accusing glares Eoin had been throwing his way, sick of his embittered attitude.
"You're losing it. You're letting yourself think of her as some innocent, sweet girl. She is Venlen's daughter, Kill. His blood runs through her veins. I mean, for fuck's sake. Are you forgetting what she is? What he's done? What he's taken from us? What would Ivana think of you developing feelings for the bitch spawn of the man who tortured and killed her?"
Killian narrowed his eyes but said nothing. The mention of Ivana felt like a knife to his gut. Ivana, his tall, blonde, beautiful bride-to-be, now rotting in the grave, her perfect body disfigured and ravaged by the weeks of torture perpetuated by the man he had set out to ruin. And why? Because she was his beloved. Because someone had sent Venlen to destroy Killian, by destroying her.
Thinking of Ivana sobered him. No matter what he felt, or thought he felt, for Venlen's pampered pup, his friend was right. Showing her mercy would be a dishonor to Ivana's memory. A betrayal of everything they had set out to do.
"It's done, Killian. Her life is over, and when we hand her to Matteo, when Venlen learns of her fate, Eva and Ivana will rest easy. There is no sense in treating the girl like she is anything more than a means to an end. It will only weaken your resolve, and I'm sorry, my friend, but I will not let that happen."
Killian watched Adrika as she slept, unmoving except for the subtle rise and fall of her chest, absorbing Eoin's words. They were hated words, words that made him sick to his stomach, but they were also words he could not ignore. His illogical attachment to the halfling girl was unwise and would only make it harder for him in the end.
"Let her ride with me tomorrow."
Killian's eyes darted back to his second's face, jolted by an immediate physical rejection of the idea.
"No."
"You see?" Eoin snarled. "You're protecting her. She is poisoning you, Kill. You need to be free of her for a while, take a few hours to remember what it is we're doing here, and why. You know I'm right."
Killian was silent. His decision was final. There was no way he would subject Adrika to Eoin's cruel ministrations. It was not mercy; It was simple decency. He accepted that he was a bad man. When he'd lost Ivana, he'd turned cold and malicious. But the girl would face a dark enough end as it was. There was no reason to inflict that kind of wickedness on her now.
"We will finish this, Eoin. You have my word." Once again locking eyes with his friend across the fire, watching licks of yellow flame dance in the ice of his eyes, he forced sincerity into his words. "She will rot in Matteo's compound. Venlen will be punished. But until then, she rides with me."
............................................
Adrika was yanked out of a deep, dreamless sleep by rough hands shaking her awake. She growled, peeked out through one eye, saw that dawn was barely breaking over the horizon. Damn. She had slept through the night, missing a chance to run.
She winced at the bruising grip on her arms and looked up, blinking lingering sleep away to see cruel glacier eyes staring down at her. Blue smirked and pulled her to her feet. "Time to go, Princess," he said, pulling her toward the Mortolf before she even had time to collect her bedroll.
"Hey!" she protested, trying to shake him off. He was smaller than Killian, but fuck, he was strong. "Get off me! Let me get my stuff!"
Ignoring her, Blue hoisted her up onto the Mortolf's back, tying the leather tethers tighter than necessary and constricting her movements. She felt a moment of panic when he began to climb on after her.
"Where's Killian?" she asked, searching the camp for the kinder of her two captors. The absolute last thing she wanted to do was to spend the day with this asshole, who no doubt had lovely plans of tormenting her all day long.
"Hunting," Blue said gruffly from behind her. "He'll catch up." And with that, he began leading the Mortolf through the thick of the redwoods, ignoring her pleas to loosen the leather bindings.
She was not disappointed. A single hour into the day, and Adrika was ready to drive a sword straight through herself and into him. Every word he spoke was meant to spear her, and every word hit its target. The same dark thoughts she'd been struggling with since learning the truth about her parents was driven home, repeated back to her in Blue's cruel drawl.
"Tell me, Princess. What does it feel like, knowing your mother has to live with you, reminding her every day of what your prick of a father did to her?"
"Do you think she is grieving for you right now? Or do you think she is relieved to finally be rid of you?"
"I wonder if she could have been free of your father, had you not been born?"
"How many times do you suppose he raped her before you were conceived?"
His words were bad enough; they were whips cracked against her soul, each lashing bite tearing something vital away from her. But then there was his touch. Hateful and cruel, his strong hands roamed across her body with no purpose other than to cause her pain and distress. Mere hours into their ride, bruises circled her neck where he'd taunted her with graphic retellings of her father's most nefarious crimes while tightening his fingers around her throat until darkness crept from the corners of her mind, threatening or promising to take her away from all this pain. Such terrible pain.
She felt it, in his grip. His fingers dug deeper into her flesh with each recounted word. As the sun rose across the barren land, she learned well the story of his agony, the hatred left to rot and decay after her father's unforgivable actions.
Killian had been right, that morning by the fire. Eoin was entitled to every ounce of his rage.
Her father had grown up under the tutelage of a man named Matteo. A commander in the Mad King Jax's broken army, Matteo had once sworn allegiance to her grandfather in Prevaria, King Ezra. After the invasion, when her uncle had risen to the throne, Matteo had escaped Damien's punishment for his brutal actions in the name of the old King by offering his services to King Jax, who gladly accepted him into his guard.
Under Matteo's hand, her father had performed terrible acts of violence. Trained to hunt down targets, extract unbearable suffering from his victims, and kill mindlessly at a single command, Matteo had turned him into a skilled assassin. At first, he had acted solely under Matteo's command, performing crimes of war in the name of the old King. Terrible as his malicious deeds were while carrying out Matteo's orders, he'd gone on to do much worse.
He'd struck out on his own.
In the years between his departure from Matteo's compound in Prevaria and the overthrow of King Ezra by her father and uncle, he'd become an assassin for hire, taking his wicked skills into the public. It was then, during this time of mindless violence and chaos, that he'd accepted a job that brought him to Karmora's borders. To target the Mad King Jax's only son and heir.
