Black Moon Draw (28 page)

“I imagine they will try to kill me.”

“Yes.” I twist to glance up at him. “That doesn’t bother you?”

“I said
try.
” He meets my gaze, the flecks of color barely visible in the moonlight. His strong features are like stone, unreadable and shadowed. He cups my cheek in one hand briefly in a sign of reassurance before his attention shifts to the head of the column. “I can fight forty men without a sword.”

“I know you like fighting.” I face forward. My cheek tingles where his fingers grazed it and I resist the urge to touch the sensitive spot. LF wants me to go with the bad guys. There must be something I need to know or learn. “But did you ever stop to think there are other ways to get what you want aside from brute force?”

“Nay.”

At least he’s honest.
“You could turn me over to them, escape, and bring back the army.”

“Nay.” This time, it’s a growl.

“They want my magic, right? I can use it against them, or if it won’t work again, I can string them along.”

“If you failed to do as the Desert Knight bid you, he will torture and murder you.”

“There’s that. But . . .” I seek some rationale that might make him understand.

“But . . .” he prods.

“But . . . I’m not pure,” I whisper. “And the warrior queen Naia had her magic after she . . . you know. Bonded with her Shadow Knight. They can’t risk hurting me, if they want me to use my magic, and if they do, they’re in for a nasty surprise.”

“I wish ‘twas so. The warrior queen held many secrets known only to my bloodline,” he says in the same hushed tone. “No one knew she retained her magic but the Desert Knight and the Shadow Knight. They were brothers who inherited parts of their father’s kingdom. Both had a claim to the battle-witch, but she loved Black Moon Draw over Brown Sun Lake. The Desert Knight of long ago slaughtered his brother and the warrior queen then placed one of his two sons as the Knight of Black Moon Draw. Thus the first Shadow Knight of this era became my ancestor.”

“Brothers,” I repeat. “Both in love with the battle-witch.”

“Aye. ‘Tis why the original blood feud ran so deep. I do not know how much the current Desert Knight of Brown Sun Lake knows of the warrior queen and her secrets, but I must assume the knowledge was passed to him as it was me.”

“Which makes him a lot more dangerous to me than any other Knight.”

“Aye. You will not face him alone.”

“We may not have a choice. Did you think of that?”

“’
Tis not an option,” he replies sharply.

“Look, you can defeat these people without me, and I can’t die. I don’t exactly want to be tortured, but if it gives you a –”

“Nay.” There’s a lethal note in his tone this time, one I’m pretty sure I shouldn’t protest. “I will do naught to see you killed.”

I can’t die.
I start to point that out once more when it hits me. “You aren’t the only one who knows how to kill me, are you?”

“I am not.”

“It’s how the Desert Knight a thousand years ago killed the warrior queen.”

“A secret passed through both families, I am fairly certain.”

Now that freaks me out. It’s one thing to be stuck in a book and invincible and quite another to know I can die here.

I’ve been swiping my fingers over his forearm as we talked, and I notice the bumps breaking up his smooth skin. There’s a long, angry looking cut along his arm, as if the troll got one good swipe in before he beheaded it. The wound is crusted over, the skin around it red with agitation. It’s not infected that I can see, though there’s a dab of blood near his elbow, a sign he did something to disturb the delicate layer of skin holding the edges of the wound together.

Tracing my fingers over the injury, I frown. His blood is real. The pain this wound caused truly exists as well.

At what point did I start to believe that this world and its inhabitants weren’t just characters in a book? When did I start to care what happened to them?

Why does the long cut along his arm disturb me so much? This man can die and suffer and hurt the same way I can. The same hands capable of hurling an axe to halve a tree have also touched me with complete tenderness.

“Where’s my squire?” I ask, afraid to know the answer.

“Red Knight’s dungeon.”

“Thank god. He’s a good kid. He means well, even if he can’t lift that sword of his.”

“He will learn.”

“You really want me to stay?” I venture. “Because you want to exploit my battle-witchiness?”

“’
Tis needed to break the curse.”

“Yeah,” I agree, somewhat disappointed about the response. “It is.” Not that I don’t understand where he’s coming from. I really do. Sometimes when he looks at me, though, I can’t help hoping there’s something else between us, as far-fetched as it seems. Someone interested in
me.

Is it wrong to want my own fairy tale happily-ever-after ending? I mean, this is a book.

I think.
I’m not even certain if that’s true anymore. If this world exists, then is every book world real? Are the characters alive and living out their experiences, even after I put the book down?

I’m too tired to return to this line of thought. I rest my head on his shoulder.

There can’t be anything between us anyway. He’s got a woman and a kingdom. While he may want me to stay, I can’t see myself becoming a peasant or servant or worse – his mistress. He’s okay with that, but I’m not.

Soon after we enter the pass between mountains, our abductors lose their black cloaks and animal heads, revealing the faces of the Brown Sun Lake warriors and their cloaks. We enter a narrow pass cutting through the mountains.

I huddle against the Shadow Knight for warmth. No one speaks to us. A glance at my hand in the dim moonlight reveals the same message, and I play that scene from the movie over and over in my head.

Apparently, I have to take another dive for the Shadow Knight. Though maybe if we spend some time apart, we’ll both realize there’s nothing between us, not even basic physical attraction.

“I fear you have crossed into madness,” he murmurs.

“It can’t happen. I belong to a different world. You have a woman.”

“Aye, ‘tis complicated.”

I wait for more.
Typical man. Thinks with his dick.
I’ve had my fill of jerks.

“Have you tested your magic?” His tension is back.

The medallion is cool and smooth beneath my fingertips. “I don’t know how to turn it on. Aside from throwing you off a building or something.”

“Or kissing you.”

“Pretty sure it was the danger,” I say curtly. “We aren’t doing that again anyway.”

The horses in front of us draw to a halt, and I see the forms of another group of riders joining us. Two of them speak too quietly for us to hear, and I grip the medallion, willing the spark of electricity to emerge.

The two start down the column, towards us.

The Shadow Knight tightens his grip around me, his body going tense. The two are soon within speaking range but not close enough for the uber-athletic Shadow Knight to launch off the horse and collar them.

“We can do this one of two ways, Shadow,” one says. He motions to someone behind us, and horse hooves approach from my right side.

I lean over and spot the archer on horseback.

Shit.
My pulse quickens and I shift in the Shadow Knight’s grip. A glance at my hand reveals the same message scrolling across it. Voluntarily going with the enemy, one who knows how to kill me? The Shadow Knight can protect me at least. If I leave him, aren’t we both at risk?

Or am I at risk, and he’ll have a shot to escape to his army and save the world?

My hands grow clammy and fear rips through me.

This world is real, and so is the chance I die for real this time. But I have to do something before they shoot him full of arrows. The original chapters I read on Wattpad are in my thoughts, reminding me that the Shadow Knight is supposed to be mortally wounded before the end of this book.

“You can release the witch to us, or we can shoot you full of arrows and take her when you’re dead.”

“Arrows,” the Shadow Knight says without hesitation.

Another archer dismounts from his horse and faces us while a third and fourth pull swords. A fifth man draws near the speaker, remaining far enough behind that their leader can’t see him, and does something peculiar.

He waves me over.

I blink, certain I’m seeing things.

When I look again, he does it once more.

Dare I trust some stranger? He’s making an effort not to be seen by the others.

The medallion isn’t coming to life again despite the Shadow Knight being in danger, and the message on my hand remains the same. The stranger waving at me is a third sign I should probably do what my gut is telling me.

Drawing a breath, I decide I don’t have much of a choice. “How about . . . I go with you guys and you let him go.”

“Nay,” the Shadow Knight snaps.

“I’m not talking to you,” I retort.

“You will come willingly?” their leader asks.

“If you let him go.” Fully aware they intend to do the opposite, I still think the Shadow Knight has a better chance to fight them off if I’m not dead weight. My alleged magic is a little too unreliable for my comfort.

The stranger is nodding his hooded head at my words.

There’s a thick silence. The Shadow Knight is growling, probably at me as much as his enemies. Every instinct in my body says this is a bad idea, but maybe if I can at least give him a fighting chance . . .

“I agree,” the leader of the Brown Sun Lake’s goons responds.

I toss one leg over the horse’s withers, but the Shadow Knight won’t let go. “Look,” I whisper. “I won’t be in the way. You can take out all their men and then come rescue me.”

“Your plans leave much to be desired.” His eyes are like chips of gray ice flecked with blue glimmers, his stony features unyielding.

“Says the man who made us fall out of the sky?”

“I will not lose you.”

“I don’t trust my magic to work!”

“’
Tis a part of you. I trust it and I trust you.”

Ouch. If I weren’t already worried about my finicky ability to use magic I don’t understand, his statement sinks the delicate self-esteem I’ve been working on bolstering. “You should know better by now. I’ll just disappoint you.”

“Nay. You cannot.” He lifts my chin to meet his gaze, his thumb resting at the side of my mouth. The air between us shimmers with something forbidden and intense enough to make my blood heat. “Use your magic.”

My hand is gripping the medallion. “It’s too much of a risk. If it doesn’t work for some reason, you’ll get hurt.”

“So be it. I accept that.”

“I don’t. I won’t. If there’s one person who can save this world, it’s you.” The idea of him dying in front of me makes my chest tight and my stomach churn. It’s more than physical attraction, more than the thought of a book character dying. The pain I feel witnessing his death in my mind is worse than what I went through the day Jason broke it off with me. “Let me go, Atreyu.”

“This is what you decide, after all we have been through? To trust my enemy?” Inexplicable anger flickers through his eyes and he grows tenser, colder.

“Yes.” For now.

“Then heed this warning. If you use the magic of Black Moon Draw in support of my enemies, I will come for your head,” he growls angrily and releases me.

I slide to the ground and grimace, testing my legs before I step away from him quickly. For the first time since we met, I’m scared of him. A man like him doesn’t make empty threats.

From his mistress to his enemy.
Typical, moody, idiotic asshole of a man! I guess if I’m of no use to him, he doesn’t need to keep me around. Innately, I understand he can’t risk letting the equivalent of a nuclear bomb come into play in the middle of a medieval battle.

I’m too pissed to acknowledge that truth.

The archers lower their bows, and the leader of the Brown Sun Lake goons grabs my arm and shoves me towards the figure standing behind him.

“For your father, with my deepest respect,” he says with a bow of his head.

The man who waved at me returns the bow and takes my arm much more gently, leading me away. I peer into the darkness of his hood, trying to see his face, hoping it’s my squire or the princess undercover.

A glimpse of his chin reveals a goatee, newly grown.

“Is he safe?” I ask, twisting to see behind me.

The men still surround the Shadow Knight, whose stony gaze is on me rather than those who are nothing more than toilet paper in his way.

“Nay,” is the honest, quiet response.

I don’t recognize his voice either.

“But we must leave the pass before he loosens his rage and comes for you.”

“That doesn’t sound like a bad idea,” I murmur.

“For now, it must be enough that you are alive, and so will he be. I cannot return you to him.” His tone is apologetic – yet firm, youthful and confident.

“Who’s your father?”

“The Desert Knight.”

That’s not good.
He’s armed, and the medallion at my chest isn’t working. My chances of escaping aren’t promising. My gut is still telling me to go with him, and there’s nowhere for me to run in the narrow pass with steep cliffs on either side.

We reach a pair of horses being held by one of our captors. He motions me to one and mounts the other.

I watch him and clumsily mirror his movements, finding it much more challenging to haul my ass on top of a horse than anyone around me makes it appear. Safely on top, I grip the saddle. My reins are handed over to the man who brokered my freedom.

Or maybe, who helped capture me. Uncertain what’s going on, I glance back once more at the Shadow Knight.

He hasn’t moved. I have a feeling he’s waiting until I’m clear of the shallow valley to unleash his fury and then come kill me.

It’s business, or should be, but I can’t help being a little hurt that he acted like I’m no more than another weapon to use against his enemies.