By Force (7 page)

Without looking at me, he said, “Will you be talking for the rest of the journey?” It didn’t matter that his raised voice and tone reminded me of the way my father scolded me, or that he might pass me off to someone else. What did matter was that he spoke a full sentence to me. I tried hard not to smile at my small success, but I could feel my face glowing, ripe with smugness.

“Does it upset you?” I studied his face, trying to read him.

“Immensely.”

“Then yes,” I said, smiling. I could have sworn he fought back a smirk. Although he probably would never have admitted to it, he didn’t mind my chatter or else he would have gagged me or handed me off to Remmie. He didn’t appear to have much patience.

He exhaled through his dry, pink lips and then tipped his head back, cursing in his native language. At least that’s what I thought he did. Roland shook his head at me, grinning all the while. That was encouraging. They responded to torment and humor. I knew I could easily manage that after years of bantering with my sister and brother.

“Glad it’s you and not me,” said a voice from behind us. Definitely Otis.

Nole ignored him.

It was funny how much information I had gleaned since encountering them days before. When my head wasn’t filled with thoughts of home, I had nothing to do but observe them and study their characters, which I admit, I didn’t dislike. Under different circumstances, I could have seen myself becoming quite fond of all but James.

The next few hours weren’t unpleasant. I talked more than I ever had and, though they did not respond, I could tell they listened. I shared quite a bit about myself; the more they knew the better. I talked about the farm, our apple orchard and our cornfields, our cozy three-room log cabin, our beloved and individualistic animals: Matilda, the stubborn mule; Alphie, the nuisance goat who ate our hanging clothes and anything else he got his thieving hooves on; and Bella, our beloved and affectionate cow. This raised some eyebrows. I explained that Bella was in the habit of rubbing against my family and me like a cat, and enjoyed lapping us up with her enormous, rubbery, purple tongue. I did not discuss my family. I didn’t want them to use the information against me. The less they knew about them, the better. I asked them questions too, which they initially refused to answer until Roland at last thought it acceptable to interact with me, or he no longer cared if it angered the others.

“Are you normally this talkative?” Roland studied my face, his brow furrowed, as if he might be able to figure me out by the way I spoke.

“No, never, actually, but I figure we’ll be spending some considerable time together so why not make it a little more pleasant?”

He nodded.

“Your name is Roland?” I leaned toward him.

“Roland Arteris.”

“Do you have a family, Roland Arteris?”

“In a sense.”

“In what sense?” I swayed to the movement of the horse.

“Don’t encourage her, Roland.” Nole spat out some of my hair that had blown into his face. Annoyed, he grabbed it and dumped it in front of my shoulder. It was all I could do not to scold him for his lack of manners.

“I am not married nor do I have any children of my own, but I have helped raise our Remmie. And also had a hand in Otis’s upbringing as well.”

I pushed for further details and it surprised me how much he offered. It was sensitive and personal, and neither Otis nor Remmie scolded him for sharing.

Roland and Remmie’s father were part of the warrior guard, and an unidentified group of men had killed Remmie’s father in his sleep. Fortunately, Remmie and his mother were visiting his aunt when his father was killed. His mother was devastated by the loss, and Roland tried to help his friend’s family as best he could, comforting her and helping to raise him.

Otis’s story was every bit as tragic. He never knew his father, and he lost his mother to fever before he was ten years of age. With no other family, he resorted to living in the busy streets of Anderall, a large city in central Optavia. When Roland first encountered Otis, he was being beaten with a rolling pin for stealing smoked meat from the local butcher, prompting Roland to rescue Otis and bring him back to the castle where he could earn his keep by working as a page. Roland said he returned to the castle often to check that Otis was being well cared for, and when Otis announced that he wanted to become part of the warrior guard, Roland ensured that he was well trained and prepared for such a demanding role.

While Roland talked, I turned to face Remmie and then Otis. Each met my eyes and then returned their gazes forward. They offered no comment on their stories. I almost forgot my goal while Roland spoke, feeling privileged he’d share such personal stories with me.

James snorted on and off. I tried my best to ignore him.

“You are an honorable man, Roland,” I told him when he finished. “Were you a close friend of Remmie’s family?”

He cleared his throat. “I suppose you could say that.”

“What would you say?”

“I fought alongside Remmie’s father as part of the warrior guard. And Emma… Well, I am close with her as well. We grew up in the same village.”

I saw something in his eyes, something I often saw in my father’s when he spoke of my mother. Love. Adoration. Though my father was undoubtedly in charge of my household, he was devoted to and hopelessly in love with my mother. She could wield her influence on him no matter how decided my father was on issues, and he would never even realize that she’d done it. I could see Emma’s influence on Roland as he thought about her.

“You love her.” It was more question than statement.

He looked at me for a long moment before he continued. “Be careful.”

I wasn’t sure what he meant, but I took it to mean I had asked him something that I shouldn’t have, something in the “none of your concern” category. I immediately wished I could take back my words, but he didn’t seem angry with me.

“So, is that what you all are? Part of the…warrior guard?”

No one offered comment.

As the day continued, Nole remained quiet and Roland continued to speak with me, though he was selective in which questions he chose to respond to. Nole didn’t respond to me again.

I was sure I had spoken more to these men—my abductors—than I had spoken to anyone else in my entire life. How odd that this situation, this undeniably bad situation, would force me to open up and share my thoughts and feelings with others. I hoped I would have a similar effect on them. For my own sake.

Chapter Seven

As dawn approached, I heard the sound of running water in the distance. We trotted off the trail in search of it, and soon happened upon a glorious cascading waterfall that flowed into a small basin. A thin mist hung in the air, making everything it touched glisten: the blue and yellow wildflowers, the baby’s breath, tall blades of dark green grass, shiny smooth rocks.

Roland, who proved himself every bit of a gentleman, offered me a hand to get down from Nole’s horse, and I took it without hesitation. Though I knew I should not care for Roland, it was impossible not to. He reminded me of my father: strong, protective, and above all, good. After all, most men didn’t help raise other men’s children without any type of obligation attached. I believed him to be an honorable man, just misguided. I was certain I could use his growing affection for me to secure my release.

I had to keep reminding myself that sharing information about me was about getting them to like me and not the other way around. I couldn’t allow myself to grow fond of them, no matter how clouded my feelings were becoming.

I dismounted the horse and walked to the water’s edge so that I could glimpse my reflection. The water was clear and calm but for a red kipper fish lazily skimming the pebbles along the water’s floor. My usually wavy hair hung bone straight, weighed down with a pound or more of dried mud. My tourmaline green eyes looked flat, and dark crescents sat below them. But my skin was intact—just like always. Granted, a touch paler than normal, even for me.

I wanted to jump head first into the water and wash away the layers of dirt and dried blood that had had taken up residence on my skin. How many days since I cleaned myself? Five? Six? The days seemed to run into one another like one big, long blur, no beginning and no end. Just one long, continuous, and utterly exhausting day.

Otis and James assembled logs and kindling on the pebbled shore next to the deep pool of crystal-clear water. Remmie knelt by the edge of the forest and dragged his fingers through the mud, painting his face with mud as if he meant to blend in with the dirt. He did this each time he went into the woods to hunt. Then he took a blade from his boot and sliced his palm, squeezing his hand until blood dripped from where he’d taken the mud.

“You look confused.” Roland made me jump. “I startled you.”

“I didn’t hear you coming.” I tore my gaze away from Remmie as he slung a quiver full of arrows over his shoulder. With a bow in his hand he hurried into the forest at a pace my eyes had difficulty following. He always brought food to the fire, and he always did so alone. “Why does he make himself bleed before hunting? And the mud? I don’t understand. I learned about savages…” I spun around to face Roland. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to call you that.”

Roland raised a hand and waved it through the air as if to brush off the offense. “We must give to get. We offer a piece of ourselves before taking from the land. The more we take without giving back, the more our strength fades.”

“Your kind takes from mine all the time and you don’t seem to be the weaker for it.” The words came out before I could stop them, and I wondered if he’d respond with anger. Perhaps the others might have, but not him. I couldn’t see him raising his hand to anyone.

“I am not my king. I pledged allegiance to the crown before he was crowned and I am a man of honor. A man of my word. I will serve him until I die. But don’t believe for a second that I support his choices or his tactics.”

“You say you’re a man of honor and yet you overpower and kidnap an innocent woman.”

Roland inhaled deeply and nodded before walking away from me. I’d pushed too hard. If only I’d shown some restraint. I needed his help and instead of getting him to talk to me and trust me, I’d forced him to clam up.

I sat on the damp grass alone, waiting for them to bind my hands and wrists like they did every time we stopped. I held up my arms to observe the damage the frequent binding had left on my wrists; they were pink and broken in parts, open wounds never getting sufficient time to mend. These marks were the only traces of injury left on my body.

When Nole and Roland finished talking, Roland went over to sit beside the burgeoning fire while Nole approached me with a confident gait that commanded every ounce of my attention. My gaze lowered to his thick, strong thighs and the way the pants he wore hugged them. He stopped a few feet from me and bent down so that his eyes were level with mine.

“I will give you one chance and one chance only.” He raised a finger for emphasis. “We will not tie you this evening, but I warn you, if you prove me a fool I will not show you any mercy. I will whip your back to shreds.” He patted the whip that was fastened to the side of his hip just opposite his sword. “Do we understand each other?”

I nodded. His intense eyes showed no trace of a bluff. He was capable of hurting me, though I thought it might pain him—more than a little. I understood this much of his character in our brief interactions, but I also believed him to be true to his word. They all seemed to be.

I followed Nole to the fire, but sat outside of their circle, not entirely sure if they would welcome me. They were unsure of me; I could read this as plain as day in their wary eyes. James regarded me as if he wanted to squash me like a bug with the heel of his well-worn leather boots. I hated the way he looked at me. Lustful and drenched in hate. He made my skin crawl.

The sun fell behind the mature trees as we sat—mostly in silence—and broken rays of light raked through their ranks. The shimmering light touched the basin, and the water glittered like diamonds while illuminating the fish that swam lazily beneath its surface. Multicolored chickados whistled sweetly, their sounds complemented by the steady flow of water.

Remmie soon broke through the trees, his hands tainted with blood as he gripped the ears of a rabbit in his right hand. He passed it off to Roland, who passed it off to Otis. Otis looked annoyed, but began to prepare the meat without protest or comment. Rabbit was Remmie’s usual catch, though he had managed a slack-jawed pheasant the day before.

Remmie walked over to the water. On one knee he ran his hands through the foamy surface and scrubbed his hands free of animal blood. With closed eyes, he splashed water onto his face and licked his lips. His tunic sleeves strained at the seams as his arms bent to undo his braids. His long, wavy hair fell over his shoulders and back. It seemed to glisten under the moonlight. I couldn’t stop myself from watching him. When I realized that I was doing it, I quickly turned away, hoping I hadn’t been caught.

Unfortunately, I had. Roland smirked at me and heat pooled in my cheeks and neck. It was bad enough to be staring at Remmie. It was even worse to get caught. I was ashamed of myself for admiring his face and eyes and the way his pants hugged his muscular bottom and the ridges of his strong legs.

What was wrong with me? How could I even think these thoughts after he and his friends had kidnapped me? And even if the situation were different, I didn’t want a man in my life. Not now. Especially not a Daentarry. My people would ostracize me.

I bit my cheek—hard—attempting to snap myself out of the stupor I seemed to find myself in when I looked at Remmie; he made me feel much weaker than I already felt. I had the horrible feeling that he might just cause my eventual downfall. With the burning of cut flesh in my mouth and the resulting metallic taste that followed, I managed to regain my focus.

Engage them. Get them to open up. Force them to like you. Get back on track.