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The weight of his gaze pinned her in place, each moment stretching into what felt like hours. His fingers pressed right where the object was concealed.
“Are you going to hand it over, or do I need to take it from you?”
Swallowing hard, she lowered her eyes. There was no way she could stop him, fight him. She had only managed to hit him with the book because he had been surprised. Something told her he was waiting for her to resist, to fight. So, with shaky fingers, she carefully retrieved the sextant, offering it to him. The cold metal felt like a lifeline slipping away from her grasp.
Eldrion glanced down at the object, arching a brow. “Interesting choice. And what, tell me, was your plan with this?” His fingers brushed hers as he took it from her.
“Navigation,” she lied, keeping her eyes downcast. “In the odd chance I found a way out of here, I would want to get back to the Crimson court, to Prince Endreth.”
His warm fingers tilted her chin up, forcing her to meet his gaze. “Lies come easy for you, don’t they. They will do you no good here,” he whispered. “Drop the act. The sooner you do, the easier this will be for you.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Anthea said, trying to mask the fear in her voice. But every word felt like another layer of the façade crumbling away, leaving her raw and exposed. The way he looked at her—it was as if he saw right through her, as if he could see inside her.
Finally, he released her chin, his hand swiftly grabbing her arm. Without another word, he led her out of the cabin and into the cool night air. She was forced back against the wooden mast, the coarse ropes biting into her wrists as he expertly retied her. With each twist and knot, her hope of escape diminished. When he was done, he stepped back, surveying his handiwork.
“Behave,” he murmured. Then, with one last lingering glance, he left the ship.
25
As dawn’s light crept over the horizon, the ship’s crew began their routines, their practiced movements a dance of efficiency. Anthea’s tired eyes trailed after them, watching as sailors hoisted the sails and fastened ropes. She hadn’t slept a wink. Every nerve in her body had been on high alert, every tiny creak of the ship or distant rustling sound had sent her heart racing. Endless scenarios had played out in her mind, each more terrifying than the last. Would they sell her? Torture her? Rape her? Every time she tried to push the thoughts away, they had returned with a vengeance, tightening the vice of fear around her chest.
The deck was a flurry of activity, with the crew calling out to each other, their voices mingling with the flapping of the sails and the creaking of the ship’s timbers. Not one of them spared her a glance. Her bones ached, and her skin felt numb from the chill. Each exhale produced a cloud of mist.
Then, from the corner of her eye, she spotted them—Vaelor, Eldrion, and Beldor with several other guards. They strode confidently up the pier, looking refreshed from a night’s rest in a warm bed.
She hated them with a vengeance.
Bitterness welled up inside her, and she bit her lip to keep from shouting out. Every fiber of her being wanted to scream, to demand they release her. But she held back. What would be the point? She had to be smart, not emotional. A slave wouldn’t shout out. And that was her cover. She had thought about it a lot during the night. She had to maintain her act flawlessly—Anthea, a human slave from the Crimson court. Property of Endreth, the second son of the king. She was a timid creature, unremarkable. She had no secrets—just a simple slave, bereft and adrift from her master.
Anthea leaned her back against the wooden mast, surrendering herself to the persona she had created. Her mind echoed the mantra: she was a slave. A slave patiently biding her time for her master’s rescue. This was her story, and she would adhere to it unwaveringly.
The ship began to move, the village receding into the distance.
They had sailed the whole day. No one had talked to her, no one had even acknowledged her.
Anthea had seen it a while ago—a castle, hewn from the very bones of the mountain itself. The stone stronghold contrasted darkly to the surrounding moss green, its towers and layered plateaus a natural continuation of the terrain. The elegance was interrupted only by the ornate details of silver and jade that caught the dying light of the day, making the castle appear to glow. A slight shift in her position allowed Anthea a view of the town nestled in the castle’s shadow, its warm lights appearing like fallen stars against the coming dusk.
The ship adjusted its course toward the town’s dock.
Unable to resist, Anthea’s eyes swept over the castle again?—
She would wear her mask, stay vigilant for any slivers of opportunity, and with all the strength she could muster, she would survive to see another day. She would wait. Endreth would search for her, and he would find her. She just needed to give him the time he needed.
Anthea scooped back as Eldrion approached her. The elf unbound her wrists and helped her up, gripping her elbow with his hand.
“No rash decisions.” His voice was soft but the threat it held was undeniable.
The sight that met her eyes as they left the ship made her stop in her tracks—two eerie, monstrous creatures, their bodies covered in a greenish-black hide that shimmered in the falling twilight, were chained to the ship—these were no Virens. Their manes, glistening like wet ink, flowed around their sinewy necks, and their eyes glowed a demonic red.
Eldrion seemed to take note of her horrified expression, but he offered no explanation as he tugged her with him.
The elf hoisted her up onto the back of a colossal horse.
Anthea let him—she saw no gain in fighting him, it would only hurt her. The horse’s jet-black coat gleamed under the waning daylight, the corded muscles underneath rippling with barely contained strength.
Vaelor rode at the forefront of their formation, followed by a dozen warriors astride horses equally as impressive as the one she sat upon. As the band of riders began their ascent, moving away from the shelter of the ship and the riverside town, they drew closer and closer to the castle that dominated the horizon. She had been snugly positioned between the horse’s head and Eldrion. His chest was firm against her back as he held the reins. She kept her back straight, her shoulders tense. Her fingers clenched the hem of her borrowed cloak, knuckles white from her grip.
As they traveled the serpentine road that snaked its way up the mountainside, Anthea could see the castle—no, a fortress, better. It was much farther away than it had seemed from the riverside, and the journey would be much longer than she had initially thought.
