I’ve spent years trying to smother that little bit of me. It can’t come out in Vanatia, ever. But it sparked to life when Fhord sat down, sending my stomach into cartwheels as chills rolled up and down my spine. I sat in a cold bathtub for a long time after I made it to my room.
I don’t know why I reacted like that. I’ve always despised males like him, who act like females belong to them. Too many use violence to control their wives and girlfriends. And Fhord is so arrogant and irritating.
But I can’t deny he’s also gorgeous, or that my body responds to him in a way it never has, even to the most attractive males. When his gaze caught mine, jealousy sparking from his emerald eyes, I felt it in my core. I wanted him more than I’ve ever wanted anyone.
I need to get through this trip and get back home. Because I’m clearly losing my mind.
“Ready?” His voice is gruff, angry.
“That’s what you have to say?” I demand, turning to stare at him. “Am I ready? Not, ‘I’m sorry, Sifa. I screwed up’?” Even now, angry as I am, my heart jumps when I see him.Bastard.
He looks rested. Like attacking strangers helps him sleep. Maybe it does.
His eyes narrow as he spins away from me and strides toward the stables.
I stand there for a few seconds, stunned at his attitude. The apology he refuses to give. But I shouldn’t be surprised. I know he’s an asshole. I need to stop expecting anything else.
Sighing, I follow him to the horses, relieved when Hilde is happy to see me. Rubbing her neck, I reach into a bag and pull out a few slices of apple. And then I rest my head against her and breathe. “Today will be an adventure,” I assure her.
At least it’s gorgeous outside, I remind myself as we leave the town. We’re still in the lush part of Vanatia, the trees rich with leaves the hue of emeralds, sparkling in the morning sun. The path we’re following winds through the forest lazily, like a snake sunning itself on a summer day. Even the birds seem joyful, their song echoing around us as they warble their greetings to the morning.
We’ve traveled for hours in silence when a different sound floats toward us. Screams. But not just any screams. They’re not human, and they are primal. Terrified. Desperate. I have no idea what beast is suffering so much.
I’ve heard cries like this before.
The fear they unleash nearly petrifies me.
In that instant, I’m back in the caves, trapped in a land I never knew existed. They know I’m an elf—my body betraying me as my terror strips my ability to control it—and use pain and fear to subdue me. To try and rip answers from me. To bend me to their will.
I’m not the only one being tortured. Other beings are here too. I recognize Toffer because he landed in this world with me. I ache when his cries reach me, feel his agony with him. When they drag him back to his hole, I try to comfort him with my words. Never my touch, because prisoners all are kept far apart. Only our torturers touch us in that place.
The wails that tear out my heart are the ones that reach us from outside the dungeon. They’re not human or troll or elf or anything like us. A beast of some kind shrieks and howls in pain and horror I can’t imagine. I could never learn the source. Even my probing questions to my captors didn’t help. I just knew that my torment paled next to the torture those creatures suffered.
I shake my head, trying to bring my wandering thoughts back to the forest. Nobody will hurt me here, I remind myself. I’m suddenly grateful for Fhord’s presence, the protection I don’t want to need.
When I glance at him, a rock drops in my stomach. The color has drained from his face, and he’s watching me with an emotion I’ve never seen him wear before. Compassion, maybe? Concern? He must have noticed my response, recognized my terror.
Breathing in once, and then again, I work to control the shivers that started when I heard the beast. I haven’t shaken like this, unable to control it, since I escaped. No wonder Fhord reacted that way.
“I’m fine,” I whisper, afraid to speak too loudly. Whatever it is doesn’t sound close, but I don’t want to take any chance of drawing it toward us.
Fhord raises a finger to his lips, echoing my caution. And then he drops from his horse, gentle enough to not make a sound, and gestures at me to do the same. I’m so relieved to have a battle horse beneath me. Her instincts seem to kick in as she stands motionless, waiting for me to dismount and lead her away.
We draw Sigurd and Hilde farther into the woods, away from the wailing. I haven’t gotten the trembling under control—it seems to get worse with every shriek—but movement helps. Hiding will help more.
Fhord glances back occasionally, his eyes still shadowed in some emotion I don’t want. I don’t need his sympathy and can’t stand the idea of him feeling pity for me. I won’t let this male see me as weak or afraid, even though I’m both right now.
It only takes a few minutes to find cover. It feels so much longer. As we slowly sink down to our haunches, I focus again on my fractured response to this creature, whatever it is. I’m surprised to find a little relief. For all these years, I’ve wondered what made those sounds. Whether I was imagining them. Now I know they’re real. Maybe Fhord can answer questions that have haunted me—if he’ll finally start talking to me.
But I won’t need to ask Fhord. Within a few minutes, the screaming moves in our direction. It’s changing now, as the beast seems to give in to the demands of its torturer. Warbles erupt every few seconds, full of grief. Resigned. I can even hear the sharp inhales that follow its moans. As if it’s crying.
I’m surprised when I see it. I shouldn’t be. In this world, I’d never before heard a dragon do anything except growl or snarl. I knew they could make other sounds. The dragons in my world are expressive. They relay so much even without the mental bonds they share with their riders. These dragons look the same; I’ve always assumed they behave the same.
It’s shocking, though, to see a dragon so afraid. Even from our distance, I can see that it’s trembling more than me, and I’m shaking like a leaf. I can see the hesitation in its steps. The fear in its eyes. The dragon’s head hangs low, its gaze never straying from the male who walks in front of it. It seems defeated. Resigned. Hopeless.
My heart is breaking for the poor beast. Enormous as it is, perhaps seventy feet long, it acts small. Defenseless. I want nothing more than to protect it from the monster who inspires such fear in it.
Suddenly, I’m not afraid anymore. My hands are still, steady. I’ve lived for ten years terrified of these screams. Horrified by whatever beast they came from. By the madman who would cause such pain. Now I know what it was. I know that I don’t have to fear it.
