Page 52 of White Raven

“Please, what?” Gravelly, he spoke low to me, a taunt in his manner.

My gaze lifted to his, not sure what I was pleading for.

“You have proven I can’t trust my rabbit not to flee.” He tied off the binding, tugging hard on it. “And I can’t have that. Nor can I have you crying for help.” He took another strip and brought it to my mouth.

Fear coiled up and I lashed out in anger, trying to fight as he slipped the fabric between my lips.

“Noooo!” I muttered, kicking my legs and swinging my arms, but nothing seemed to deter him.

“Wasting your energy.” He dragged me to the rug in front of the empty fireplace. “Lie down.”

Deep rage crackled through my chest, surging me with venom. I did not bend. I would not.

A White Raven never bent the knee.

He smirked at me like I was an insolent child. He took a long slip of fabric, knotting my wrists off to an iron rung on the fireplace which would normally hold a fire poker and broom. Both unfortunately were absent.

He rechecked all my bindings before peering down at me. “Behave while I’m gone, will you?”

He was leaving me? Where was he going?

He started to turn but stopped himself, coming over to me.

“To answer your question . . . if I wanted to fuck her again, I would.” He seemed to get closer to me. “And they always want me back in their bed. I eat their pussy until they go blind, and then I fuck them until they black out.”

Heat instantly flushed through me at his words, pooling down between my thighs.

He pivoted, picking up the saddlebag and stomping out of the room. I could hear it lock, his boots descending the stairs, leaving me tied up in the wake of his claim.

Hot, raging tears burned behind my lids. I felt itchy under my skin, that something was very wrong with me. Nothing had felt right since the night of my betrothal, when my whole world came undone.

Sinking down on the rug, I stared at the fading painted runes covering my hands. The innocence I held when Ingrid rendered them onto my skin before the betrothal dinner. The motherly advice she gave me about my wedding night to Brynden, while Sarina struggled not to laugh behind her, knowing we knew far more than she did.

A sob wrenched through me, the agony of Sarina’s memory tearing at me. Missing Ingrid’s comforting manner. I never had a mother, never had someone love me unconditionally. Ingrid was the closest I had, yet still I was kept at arm’s length. As the White Raven I was to be held above everyone else. A label that was a tax around my neck, a toll that grew heavier by the day.

Sarina was the only one who didn’t give a fuck about my title. Her eyes rolling every time someone bowed to me, snorting when someone called me “my lady.”

I wanted to go home. To be little girls running in the forest again, oblivious to grown-up problems and responsibilities. To see Father hide his smile when we came in dirty and full of tales as children. He’d want to berate me, tell me I should be a reflection of my title, but Sarina would always distract him, make him laugh instead.

Over time he lost that laugh, became colder and more rigid, cutting me off from any love he used to show me. I had to search for it in his criticism and demands. The scarce moments he’d look upon me with a kinder eye and voice.

Exhaustion lowered my barriers, allowing sorrow to finally consume me. My body shook as the tears flooded, truly grieving Sarina, my father, my life, knowing whatever was in front of me I would not survive.

Whatever it took, I couldn’t let myself reach the Night Kingdom.

A gnawing sound resonated in my ears, pulling me from a deep slumber curled in a tight ball on the rug. My puffy eyes struggled to open, head pounding with dehydration, bladder full of ale. A streetlamp from outside cast a dim light through the curtainless window.

I didn’t remember falling asleep. My body no longer was able to evade the fatigue consuming it, pulling it down to where I felt some relief from the pain.

Cold and aching, I forced my lids to fully open, taking in the empty room, the bed vacant of his shape.

Where was he?

Chewing ticked at my eardrums, the noise reminding me of rats munching on the grain bags we stored in the kitchen back home. My eyes made out a tiny form gnawing on the fabric around my mouth.

“What the fuck?” I jolted up, a squeak coming from it as it hit the floor.

The gag covering my mouth fell to the floor, freeing my tongue. I gaped at the tiny twig-looking creature blinking back at me with its large black eyes, thin roots curling off its head and body like baby hair.