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After an order is barked to load Ellister into the back of the wagon, my mate tries to reason with Zetipher. “Whatever it is you’re wanting to do with me, you should reconsider. It isn’t just your own life you should be worried about. The fate of Valora is hanging in the balance.”
It’s more than a warning—it’s a promise.
It makes Zetipher pause, and for a second, I think Ellister’s gotten through to him.
Then he waves off any concern, not comprehending the seriousness of Ellister’s statement.
“I’m just following orders,” Zetipher drawls. “If anyone is going to direct fate, it’ll be the king.”
ELLISTER
Hannah’s presence is still undiscovered as the wagon door is shut and locked. And I’m glad.
I’m hoping some distance between us might lessen the effects of the bond. When the iron hit my skin, I sensed her misery. Maybe if I’m very far away, the burn won’t be so bad for her.
She can stay here, continue to stoke the fire and produce Glow. In the meantime, I’ll figure out how to get back once I arrive in Hailene.
I’m not looking forward to the trip. By horse and foot, it’ll take at least a couple days to travel to the royal city, and that’s only if we don’t stop for breaks.
Hannah might not have that long, and two days will feel like weeks if I’m kept in these torturous conditions.
Honestly, the net is unnecessary and cruel, and their decision to use it on me tells me these men are not the merciful kind.
I try not to cry out as the network embeds in the flesh of my face, sinking deeper in my cheeks and cutting into my muscles. I wish my clothing offered some protection like it does with bees, but it doesn’t. Every inch of my skin is on fire, except for my ankles and feet, which are covered by the thick leather of my boots.
At least the wagon is somewhat clean.
As I lie on my side, I observe my unstained surroundings and note the lack of smell. In my experience, the prison carts tend to be disgusting, often soiled with blood and other bodily excrements. Once urine soaks into the wood, there’s only so much scrubbing that can be done. Maybe I got lucky with a newer model.
Zetipher’s face appears in the barred window on the side, and he peers down at me with a salacious grin.
He’s probably a right-hand man to the royals, and he wants to add me to his entourage. Extractors like to surround themselves with others who possess valuable powers they can borrow on a whim, and I’m a prize to him.
Jovial laughter comes from outside as the men take their sweet precious time getting a move on.
Hannah’s still in the barn. I’m concerned about how much smoke she’s inhaling.
If there’s one thing I know about my woman, it’s that she’s tough. She can endure hardships that would make most people crumble, but she’s still human. And she’s unwell.
“Let’s get going, assholes,” I demand through gritted teeth, knowing they won’t kill me, no matter what I say. I’m too important. “The king must be waiting impatiently for my arrival.”
Someone whistles outside, and the clop of horse hooves starts up as we begin our journey. The ride isn’t smooth. With how uneven the overgrown driveway is, I’m being jostled around with every bump. Each movement is excruciating as the iron rubs on my skin.
We’re almost to the end of the lane when I hear a high-pitched, “Wait!” in the distance.
“Fuck,” I whisper to myself, closing my eyes.
The wagon comes to a jerky halt, and muttered confusion ripples through the men as they realize a witness went undetected.
Zetipher is the most vocal about this. Of course he is. As an Extractor, he relies on his own power to sense others around him. But if someone doesn’t have a power—like Hannah—he’d have no way to tell if she’s lurking.
From their cluelessness, I can assume Zetipher and Rymus haven’t had any communication this week. Perhaps they don’t live together after all. Surely, Rymus would’ve let his cohorts know about my companion.
That fact only adds more confusion to the situation.
I’m trying to figure out how their system works, but it’s not making sense. Any royal council in active pursuit of a target would be communicating constantly. They utilize sprites, paying the little buggers handsomely to deliver messages.
“Don’t leave without me.” Hannah sounds winded as she gets closer, and she whimpers from pain when she finally comes to a stop.
