The day’s ride seemed to occur in a universe entirely separate from the one I’d known only just this morning. Sitting atop Bear, hips melded to his well-worn saddle and swaying loosely with his clunky walk, one hand holding the reins while lazily resting on the pommel while the other lay on the top of my thigh—riding was the only familiar act keeping me anchored in the present. It gave me a minuscule amount of comfort amongst the waves of uncertainty that sloshed against my mind every time I looked at any of the heavily armored and well-armed guards that surrounded me on all sides.
It was the only odd comfort of Bear’s pommel that kept me from rubbing my temples vigorously and asking myself out loud how the hell this happened and what in the hell I was going to do. It kept me from sagging my shoulders and resting my head on my hands in defeat. It kept the twitch in my ankles from becoming a full blown kick to spur Bear into a gallop, spooking the guard’s horses and giving me the chance to try to make an escape through the thick forest that would ultimately be my massive steed’s downfall.
When my mind would drift to the fantasy of escaping, it would always start by playing out in a slightly different manner with each iteration. Create a diversion, use the element of surprise, unleash what they thought they knew to be true about me, only far, far worse. Each scenario would inevitably end the same way—seeing myself run through with more swords than I could count, red blood spilling over my leathers, a silent scream my last dying cry. My jaw ached from how much I’d been clenching it every time the hypothetical images flashed through my mind.
My posture was straight, shoulders pushed back with my chin tilted high, my mood nonchalant as I rode along with my impregnable escort—a complete contradiction to the overwhelming emotions that roiled around in my head relentlessly as the blazing sun ticked across the sky. Sweat steadily rolled down my skin under my armor. Flies swarmed my face every few seconds with no breeze to help keep them at bay. It all fueled the unease and near panic that was brewing beneath my seemingly collected composure.
It felt utterly foolish to agree to an armored escort to the capital after a decade of being content existing as an unknown vigilante. There were no guarantees that this wasn’t a trap, that there wouldn’t be imprisonment waiting for me upon my delivery to the king. But then why not just manhandle me into their custody when they found me? Gods knew the Preyborn could’ve had me detained before I’d even fully awoken from snoring on my bedroll.
Then there was the question of my being Made. It seemed that Zindel had not been informed of my unique trait that had allowed me to terrorize lowlifes and thugs mercilessly for years. But just because he didn’t know didn’t mean that Brennan didn’t know, or the king for that matter. The Preyborn had obviously been a means to an end—track me, locate me, and seize me if necessary. Fortunately I’d spared him and myself the unpleasantness of violence. Even without the added numbers of the king’s guard, attempting to outrun and outfight a Preyborn one-on-one would have been a death sentence.
As I reached up to swat another relentless fly away with a muttered curse, I noticed the guards at the front of the group begin to veer off the dirt road that served as both a rural cart path through the countryside and our means of travel throughout the day. My body tensed while a sigh escaped my dry, chapped lips. While stopping meant much longed-for rest from a day spent in the blazing sun in a saddle that was making me unbearably sore and stiff, it also meant navigating the first of many evenings spent with complete strangers that I would never trust.
What I would’ve given to have another night alone by myself at the camp that I’d called home for years. I was accustomed to being alone. I thrived on it. Being a part of a group, particularly one that merely saw me as a checkmark on a contract, had been filling me with unease ever since our departure early this morning. While no one had given me a reason to think poorly of them yet, I was not going to operate under the illusion that their indifference couldn’t be unmasked to reveal vileness.
My grip on the reins tightened imperceptibly as Bear took his first few steps off the dirt road into the thick underbrush of the forest floor. Dark green pines and towering, ancient trees filtered out the scorching rays overhead, offering me the first reprieve from the day’s sweltering heat. I couldn’t help but let out a sigh, reveling in the shade as I ducked and dodged branches pulled back and carelessly released by the men riding in front of me.
Their deliberate annoyance wasn’t lost on me as I gritted my teeth together and worked hard to not be unsaddled by one of the many swinging branches. A few of them went so far as to throw smug grins over their excessively polished pauldrons. It took an unprecedented amount of effort to keep my mouth shut. I reigned in every curse, every sharply spat retort. I settled instead for what I hoped were leveling glares, and based on the fact that not one of them looked back at me more than once, I was satisfied my expression was withering enough.
After a few minutes of hacking through thick, unforgiving brush, I found myself blinking against the last rays of the setting sun as the trees gave way to a grassy clearing. Settling my vision after emerging from the cool shade of the forest, I took in where we’d be setting up camp for the evening. It became immediately clear to me that this was an area frequently used for camping.
Grass gave way to mud and dirt where hooves and boot-clad feet alike had trod over the ground time and time again. Makeshift hitching posts for the horses were gathered in the same area—bits of fallen trees, stumps and cut logs arranged to create a place to untack, brush down and feed tired steeds. Under a lumbering tree near the center of the open area was a well-used fire pit, filled with gray ash and black charcoaled logs, while a large patch of grass nearby was flat and pressed down from the weight of sleeping bodies.
With a deep breath in and out of my nose, I prepared to give Bear a nudge with my heels to get him moving in the direction of where the soldiers ahead of me were dismounting in a chorus of clinking armor and heavy thuds. But just as I was taking in and crinkling my nose at the scent of fading heat in the grass mixed with the sweat of dozens of men, Bear tossed his head as someone took him by the bridle. Zindel.
Gritting my teeth for the umpteenth time over the course of the seemingly unending day, I met the emotionless stare of the Preyborn, who couldn’t have looked more apathetic and irritated if he tried. Whereas I could feel the sweat dripping down my temples and down from my nose, he appeared as though he’d just emerged from a cool, stone room in a well-built fortress. Not a single bead of sweat dripped down his face. Not one fly buzzed around him. Preyborn prick.
“Something I can help you with? I can assure you I can handle hitching my horse on my own.”
Without so much as a grunt or sniff in response, he turned and tugged Bear along towards the group of dismounting and untacking soldiers. All I could do was clench my teeth together fiercely, more heat blooming up from my chest to make me sweat even more. I felt like a child being led along, incapable of riding on their own and untrusted to be in control. It insulted both me, my intelligence and Bear—who I wished would make a nice little snack of the Preyborn’s fingers that were just inches away from his powerful teeth.
Bear settled for tossing his head dramatically a few times, clearly displeased with the unfamiliar person leading him to an old and sturdy fallen tree. Zin hitched him with a few parting pats on his neck in an act of good faith. The Preyborn stood sentinel at Bear’s head, unmoving and stalwart. Obnoxious fucking prick. Gonna babysit me every waking second we’re not mounted? I stared down at him with what felt like pure fire burning in my eyes. If I would’ve had the advantage, if I would’ve had the upper hand in some impossible way, I would’ve taken him down then and there.
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
With one last firm gritting of my teeth and near painful clenching of my jaw, I swung my leg up and over the saddle, dismounting in a small cloud of dry dirt and dust. Making quick work of busying myself with pulling up stirrups and loosening Bear’s girth, I spoke to the conceited, unmoving prick through firmly clamped teeth.
“That’s going to your purpose now, eh? Watch my every move in case I make a wrong one. How glamorous for you. Are you going to help me wipe my ass when I take a shit, too?”
Zindel stood silent, expertly unprovoked. His indifference grated my nerves even more. I slammed Bear’s saddle down on the weather- and sun-worn dead bark of the fallen tree, moving to my lumbering steed’s large head to remove the bit from his foamy, parched mouth. He nudged my hands with his muzzle, nickering to me softly as he no doubt sensed the utterly foul mood radiating from the core of my being. None of the soldiers paid neither Zindel or I any mind. They were all content to move about their business, moving from their untacked horses to start a fire and get the evening’s meal prepared—some gathered wood, others made for the woods with buckets in hand, heading to a water source unknown to me.
“As if it wasn’t bad enough to be apprehended by the king’s own personal fucking guard, I have to be stuck with you and your unbearably obnoxious existence.” With a few firm parting pats on Bear’s hard, muscular neck, I forcefully pushed past the Preyborn, who effortlessly moved out of the way without so much as a blink or breath. With an intense amount of focus and the help of Bear’s sudden snort of displeasure, I gathered that the deadly thorn in my side had fallen in step behind me.
“Yeah, good, you know that’s just great. Keep fucking following me around. You might as well be my own fucking—”
His hand was on my arm then, firm enough to hurt at first before releasing pressure to form an unbreakable circle around my bicep.
“You are a danger to everyone. Even yourself. It is in your best interest to have me be your fucking shadow.”
I yanked my arm away fiercely, making a good show of standing taller and pushing my chest out. The truth stung. He was right, there was no doubt about it. His gaze narrowed on me, and I felt something unfamiliar wash over me.
“Has anyone ever told you how incredibly foul mouthed you are for a woman?”
“Has anyone ever told you how absolutely insufferable you are to be around, all of the time?”
The intensity of his piercing gaze grew. How that was possible, I wasn’t sure, but the swirling mix of confusing emotions in those two wide, bright green weapons had me transfixed. I was snared, unable to do anything but stand and stare back at him.
“This chance is a gift, Shadowmade. It will be what you make of it. And as much as it might wear on you to be apprehended and brought in, you would be wise to stay focused on yourself and your powers. One slip of control, and I will not be able to stop over a dozen men from skewering you alive.”
I couldn’t look away. It didn’t matter how hard I tried to move my gaze or angle my face to the side. He had exerted his power, and it had a firm and unshakeable hold on me. My hands began to shake slightly as I tried to fight him off, tried to break free of the invisible net he’d casted out and caught me in.
Control finally washed back over me with an odd sensation of tingling across my skin, my ability to move my gaze freely returning as I gritted my teeth so hard it hurt. He brushed past me, bumping into me fully and intentionally. Throwing a sharp glare at his back over my shoulder, I watched as he paused and made one last quip before making his way back across the camp to the horses.
“And I will be able to tell you if you missed anything when you wipe your ass.” He gave a sniff for good show before silently strolling through the camp, the soldiers he encountered giving him an unnecessarily wide berth. He left me to simmer and stew in his words as he claimed his spot for the night by the horses—giving me yet another reason to drive a dagger into his flesh when the first good opportunity arose.
I’d have to find my own place to tuck away, well within the limits of the camp while having as much distance as possible from any other member of the honorable and knightly party. Scanning the clearing, I took note of a tree at the edge of the open space that was just the right distance away from the Preyborn and the soldiers who were growing more gregarious the faster darkness fell around us.
It was just as I sat down with a heaving sigh at my scouted-out spot under the old, sagging branches of a tree that the gaze of another man caught my attention. Brennan stood on the opposite side of the fire, the flames giving the illusion of licking his face with bright oranges and yellows. The image was haunting, his eyes hard with determination.
I refused to look away from him as our gazes locked. Zindel’s words were doing laps in my mind, repeating themselves over and over again as I stared at the proud captain. It was not lost on me that as he stared, brimming with loyalty and purpose, that our stations in life could not have been more opposite if we’d planned it. I had never felt more lost, more isolated and vulnerable than I did now.
There was one, and only one facade to wear over the course of the next few days to survive this journey to the capital with my reputation and capabilities at the forefront of everyone’s minds. I would need to carefully keep my doubts, my fears, and my wavering confidence completely hidden by the stony, cold persona I’d cultivated and mastered over the years and years I’d spent wandering—never fully lost, but always without a true place in the world.
It was the reason why I held the captain’s eyes until he was approached by one of his soldiers. He was forced to look away, his duty calling as he walked towards a group of his armor-clad men. I made a good show of spitting in the dirt and glaring as he finally broke eye contact with me at the last possible moment, needing to see where he was going in order to not trip or make an ass of himself.
What an arduous task it would be, remaining masked and distant during the rest of this trip. I would need to be perfectly aloof without raising suspicion or alarm. Having the company of the Preyborn would be an advantage, and all I could do was hope that it would be enough to get me to the capital without incident. Wake up, ride, dismount, camp. A simple schedule I would need to execute perfectly in order to appease the party of well-trained killers, whether Born or human.
Swallowing hard, I attempted to find the center within myself in order to escape the king-made prison that surrounded me on all sides. A voice broke through to me suddenly, cracking through my consciousness with the sharpness and sudden alarm of a whip.
“When I am finished with you, you will have what I desire. And when I see that it suits me, I will rob you of it, returning you back to the nothing you are, and deserve to be, forever.”
My heart slammed into my chest, my pulse hammering in my veins as the words infiltrated the entirety of my body—physically and mentally. Across the camp, I knew the Preyborn would be alerted to my sudden change in heart rate. All I could do was keep the facade up, keep hiding and sit perfectly still, outwardly unaffected while nausea and spiking panic gnawed away at my insides.
Find something. Anything. Come out of yourself, lose yourself in the world and all it has to offer your senses. The hooting of an ancient owl somewhere deep in the branches of trees. The smell of stale sweat of equines and men mixing with the smoke of the fire. The comforting smoothness of my well-worn leather gauntlets under my fingers. The sound of my own deep, defeated breath out of parted lips.
I would not be sleeping tonight after all.
Son of a bitch.