Page 42 of White Raven

I leaped back with a cry. Terror thrummed through me, but I understood he was my only hope to get out of here—making my journey faster and hindering the Night Raven’s quest for me. The weight of time pressed down, slipping opportunity through my fingers.

“Please—” Desperation twitched my muscles, making me frantic.

Distant murmurs cut me off, twisting me around. A cry bubbled in my throat, my hand slapping over my mouth. Five men carrying swords and axes snuck up to the tower, their voices low.

“I saw them go in here.” A nondescript man with thinning hair whispered. “They’re hiding in the tower.”

“That place is cursed,” one hissed, his beard growing in uneven patches over his face.

“Afraid of a few ghosts, Anders?” the first man taunted.

“When I saw her hair come out of that hood . . .” another one spat out, his head shaking. I recognized him from the village, one that had followed us to the end of the street. “I can’t wait to watch her bleed. To hear her cries of pain. I want her to feel every bit of what her kind did to us.”

“Kill him but spare her for now,” another man I had seen in the village fired back. “She will feel the sins of her people.” They crept together to the stronghold, slinking into the shadows of the turret where the Northerner slept unaware.

I couldn’t move. A mix of emotions clutched me in equal measure. They would kill him, taking care of my problem and allowing me to flee. He could never come for me. I would be free. This was my opportunity to run and never look back.

Go! I screamed at myself. I turned, my mind filling with doubts. Are you insane? You think you will make it to the border alone? The moment he is dead, they will come hunting for you. Along with the Jackals.

There was the sound of a single bellow inside the tower, the clanking of metal. I imagined the Northerner being disemboweled, his guts stringing across the floor, his neck sliced open, draining his life.

It should have made me cheer, should have made me smile as I ran from him, yet I hesitated.

He deserves it.

“Not so fast, fitte.” An arm came around me, a hand covering my mouth, his blade at my throat stifling my scream. “You are mine now, pet.” He plucked the scythe from my hands, his voice sneering in my ear. I could tell he was young, his frame lacking the definition of a man, but his body towered over mine. The jagged edge of the knife pushed into my neck, shallowly slicing through the skin. “Breed or burn you? How about both.” He pulled me in closer, his hand gripping my hair painfully, his bad breath against my cheek. “Move.” Nudging me back to the tower.

My breath clipped, a panic attack heating my skin as he shoved me back inside the keep.

“Where is she?” a man barked across the dark room, my sight adjusting to the scene before me. The Northerner was sitting against the wall, two men holding blades against his throat, the three other men surrounding him, their weapons at the ready. The thin-haired man stood in front like he was in charge.

“I have her,” the boy behind me proudly stated, cockiness crowing in the timbre of his voice. His fingers yanked my head back to him, forcing my eyes to water. “I caught the cunt before she could run.”

The men twisted to us, their eyes widening. The minimal light in the tower lit up their irises with a strange purplish hue, which sparked with hatred and lust. Promising pain. Violence.

“Well, looky here . . .” The lead man stepped to us. His long nose had been broken several times, making it bumpy and off center. “Junior here finally caught something other than syphilis.”

The boy stiffened behind me, his nails digging into my scalp.

“I want her first,” the boy said haughtily. “Since I caught her, I get her.”

“You think that is how it works?” The head man strolled up, his attention completely on me. “I’m in charge. I get first dibs . . .” His fingers brushed down my cheek. “So soft and young.” He leaned over me, his dry, cracking lips close to mine. “Maybe I’ll flay you open first, before I fuck you.” His taunt tasted of disdain. “Just like your guards did to my wife.”

I tried to swallow back my fear, my chin shaking as I forced it to stay up.

“My wife was young and beautiful like you.” He spoke only for me, his hand picking up a severed strand, twirling it around his dirty finger. “Full of life and joy. Before her own kind mutilated and raped her. Then strung her up, still alive, for me to find later.”

My stomach twisted; my mind was not able to rectify what he said with any truth I knew, though it matched what the Northerner told me. Killing in battle was one thing but doing something like that was abhorrent.

“You will pay for what your king did here, Day Raven.” What would they do to me if they found out my title, who my father was?

He dragged his blade down my sternum. “Get on your knees.”

All focus was on me, the other men gleefully waiting for me to obey.

My gaze shot over to the Night Raven against the wall. His black eyes stared intently, but his face was blank of emotion. He showed no sign he cared about what was going to happen.

He probably didn’t.