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“My place?” she echoed as a new sort of anger clawed its way up the back of her throat. What was she to him? A tool to be used and discarded until wanted? What true plans did he have for her? Why had he been so intent to retrieve her if he cared nothing for her? “Why?” She croaked the word even as she lifted her chin in stubborn defiance. “Why should I? Why should I obey you when you despise me so much—why did you even insist that we go through with this farce of a union?”
Derisive disbelief twisted his handsome but cruel features. “Dear girl, this never had anything to do with you. You’re nothing.”
Did he hold that book a little closer?
Time stood still as he raked her with a look that put her in her place, as he put it: at his feet, in his shadow, silent and voiceless.
Duty be hanged.
She’d die before she bound herself to him.
But she knew from years of working with unruly children that one had to pick their battles very carefully. So she muffled her pride and indignation with a bowed head. Silently, she turned on her heel and returned to Medda’s side.
And watched from beneath lowered lashes, waiting for the moment when the battle for her future—her own future—might finally begin.
Now that they had Kora and the book, the elves appeared in a hurry to be on their way. Anrid ran to keep up. Ahead of her, Kora struggled as well. They had trussed him up quite cleverly, wrenching his bound hands behind the back of his head and lashing them to his belt, so that he couldn’t move his arms more than a couple inches in any direction. He stumbled and fought to keep his balance as the dark elf guard shoved him onward at a faster pace.
She couldn’t see Medda. They’d been separated—a deliberate move to further demoralize her, she was sure—but she hoped the girl wasn’t being mistreated at the front of the procession. As the hours limped onward, she grew more and more concerned about how Medda faired. She’d just about worked up the nerve to demand a moment to check on her ward when the delegation halted in a large cavern. The chamber was so dark she couldn’t see the perimeter, but she heard the rush of water somewhere close by.
A hand caught her on the shoulder and threw her to the ground beside Kora. She fell against him, catching herself on his knee. He stiffened and cursed soundly, but Anrid silenced him with a furious, “Hush!”
He studied her for a moment before returning his irate gaze to their captors. Anrid caught hold of his elbow and helped him reposition so that he sat cross-legged instead of kneeling. He leaned back against the wall, arms still pinioned over and behind his head. She drew her knees to her chest and huddled beside him.
They settled Medda on the ground a dozen yards away. Anrid’s heart twisted. She turned her face into her shoulder to smother a moan she couldn’t suppress. Kora hissed between his teeth but said nothing.
After half an hour, Teague approached them with a flask and plate of cold food. He handed them to Anrid and avoided meeting her gaze.
“Medda?” she whispered as she fought in vain to make him look at her.
The dark elf held a silencing hand to his lips and focused on the others behind him before muttering an almost inaudible, “Alive.” Then he left them without a backward glance.
Anrid sagged against the stone wall and squeezed her eyes shut, overwhelmed by the horror and relief. How was it possible to feel two such emotions at once without one beating down the other? They were too contrary—too at odds—and yet she felt both in equal measure.
She set herself to the only task at hand, nourishing Kora and herself. She broke the dry bread into bite sized pieces and moved to lift one to his mouth. He turned his face away.
“You eat. You need your strength,” he muttered.
She set her teeth together, hard. “You will eat as well, or I’ll stuff it down your throat by force.” He swiveled to study her, perhaps to gauge the sincerity of her threat. “You’re in no position to best me at present.”
The faintest hint of a smirk broke free of the conflicted swirl of emotions he wore so plainly.
“No talking!” one of the elves barked at them.
Anrid sealed her lips together and held up the bit of bread, raising her eyebrows to silently voice her question. Kora seemed reluctant to concede, but she guessed he had no desire to be further demoralized by force feeding. He parted his lips and grudgingly accepted whatever she fed him, although he frowned when he realized his portion of the meager fare was larger than her own.
“I’m too angry to be hungry,” she mouthed when she thought no one was watching.
A muscle in his cheek twinged, but he said nothing to that.
She suspected he felt the same.
They’d only just finished eating and drinking the water in the flask when one of the elves reclaimed the dishes and caught her by the elbow to pull her to her feet. Kora growled a warning, but the elf dropped the plate and swung a fist so hard and fast, Anrid barely had time to cry a warning. The blow caught Kora in the midsection and jarred a groan out of him.
“I’m fine!” She snatched up the discarded dishes to prove her intent to cooperate. “I’ll come with you. Please. Let him be. He’s a fool of a man and not worth your time.”
The elf shot her a look she couldn’t interpret, but he left Kora alone and prodded her across the cavern. Instead of taking her toward Medda, however, he led her a couple dozen yards away from Kora and pointed to a smooth place on the ground.
“Sleep while you can,” he growled as he snatched the plate and flask from her hands.
