Chapter 15

15

K yrie

His grip on me is tight as he half drags me from the tent. I flail and kick, trying to get him to let me go.

“Leave me alone! Put me down! What in the gods’ names are you doing?” I shout, eliciting looks from the guards posted outside.

Cyrano keeps marching away. I look back; from the outside, the large tent looks completely normal. One of the guards walks to the flap we just exited from and tugs it aside.

The swirling shadows are still thick behind the tent material.

He drops the flap.

“It looks like the general is having a word with the icefae.” All of them laugh.

Cyrano puts me down, and I immediately attempt to run back into the tent. He hooks an arm around me. “It’s too dangerous. You can’t—”

I elbow him in the ribs, and he lets me go with an “oomph.”

“You should listen to your friend,” one of the guards says. “It would be madness to go in there right now.”

“He’s not my friend,” I snarl, my gaze on Cyrano. “What is wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with you, Kyrie? All I have done is to try to save you. To help you, but you keep throwing it in my face,” he says in a low voice that still manages to hold venom.

“Trying to save yourself, you mean?” I whisper-shout.

He nods. “Yes, of course. We need to escape this predicament together. You and me.”

“There is no you and me anything. You’ve more than likely gotten him killed.” I feel my eyes well with tears. “I can’t believe you would stoop so low.”

“I meant everything I said. Damon is not to be trusted. He’s keeping something from us. Something big,” he whispers.

“No, he isn’t. You’re just paranoid.” I’ve had the same feeling more than once, but I’m not going to admit that to Cyrano. If Damon is keeping something from me, it’s for good reason. I know it. I refuse to believe anything else.

A loud crack comes from inside the tent, followed by a muffled cry. I freeze, my heart doing somersaults in my chest. The guards exchange worried glances, hands instinctively moving to the hilts of their weapons.

Cyrano grabs my arm, his expression urgent. “We have to go. Now,” he whispers, pulling me away.

I wrench away from his grasp, giving him a shove. “I told you I’m not going anywhere with you. We need to get that very clear.”

“But now is our chance,” he whispers.

It’s true; the guards close to the tent have their eyes on the entrance.

The others are busy going about their various tasks. No one is paying us much attention. We could slip away. I doubt we’d make it, but we could try.

There is no way I’m leaving Damon. It’s as simple as that.

I march back to the tent, but two guards block my way. There is another crack from inside. And another…and another. I flinch each time. I don’t like the sound. It makes me feel ill.

When Damon emerges a few minutes later, his shirt is striped with red at the back. It’s sticking to him. His face is stoic like nothing happened. The bloody whip in the general’s hand tells another tale.

“Damon!” I cry and run to him. “What happened? What did he do to you?” I want to throw my arms around him, but I don’t want to hurt him, so I don’t.

“This time, you got away with a warning,” the general tells Damon. “Next time, you won’t get off so easily.”

“He got a few lashes…for treason. How can that be?” Cyrano yells. “He got off too easily. I demand—”

“Shut up!” I grind out between my teeth. If I had a sword, I swear I might kill him. Kakara knows that he would deserve it.

“You two,” the general points at the two closest guards, “bring this male inside.” He points at Cyrano.

“Do you want a word, General Belen?” Cyrano turns smug. “I would be happy to fill you in on—”

“No!” the general rasps. “I want to show you exactly what I think of snitches.”

The guards snigger. The two he pointed out grab Cyrano with one on each of his arms.

He tries to pull free, but they hold him fast. “You can’t be serious.” Cyrano looks petrified but soon breaks out in a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, which are wide with terror. “You’re making a jest.” He laughs. It sounds forced and humorless.

“Do I look like I’m jesting? I hate tattletales. And you are one of the worst I’ve ever encountered. It would be ten lashes, but because some of what you had to say was useful, I’ll lower it to five. Same as the icefae. Seems fitting.”

Cyrano looks at Damon’s back; his face is ashen. “No, please, General Belen. I thought I was doing the right thing. I was doing the right thing.” The guards drag him to the tent.

“Who needs enemies when you have friends like that?”

“That filthy fae is not my friend!” Cyrano yells from inside the tent.

“He might just earn himself ten after all.” The general chuckles darkly. “Tie them up. Keep a close eye on them,” he tells the remaining guards. “I’ll use my left arm since you are a weak human,” the general says to Cyrano as the tent flap falls closed behind him.

Damon holds out his arms, and I do the same. The guards are still tying us when the screaming and begging starts. Not long after, the first crack sounds, and Cyrano shrieks.

I wince, but I can’t find it in me to feel sorry for him. He brought it on himself. Damon is lucky he still has his head.

There is another crack. The screaming doesn’t stop; between cracks, it gets worse. Thankfully, we are led away.

We’re made to sit in one of the tents. There are guards all around, but none are very close. This is my chance to glean some information.

“He’s a monster,” I whisper. “You’re still bleeding.” I wipe my eyes, realizing that I’m crying. I can’t help it. I sniff.

Damon has his hands bound tightly at the wrist, but he still takes my chin in his hand for a moment. “Please don’t cry. I’m fine,” he says under his breath. He lets me go.

“You’re not fine. Your shirt is soaked through. Guard!” I try to get someone’s attention. “We need herbs and bindings.”

“Be quiet, human,” one of the guards sneers.

“I swear, I’m fine,” Damon repeats. “We heal far more quickly than humans.” He smiles. “I don’t even feel it much. It’s just a sting.” He looks over his shoulder at his bloodied shirt.

“You’re covered in blood. He opened your back. He’s a—”

Damon gives a quick shake of the head. “I’m fine. I swear it. Think back on the times I hurt myself at the mines. Think about how quickly I healed then, too. It’ll be even quicker now that I’m a fae again. Without the spell hampering my healing abilities.”

“It’s true; you were always a quick healer.” I smile through my tears. “Remember that time you hurt your arm?”

He nods. “Yes, that prick Hali pushed me. He kicked me a few times while I was on the ground. With the others watching, I couldn’t do anything. I just had to take it.” His eyes blaze.

“I hated him so much.” When I think back, most of our guards weren’t too bad. I guess they were just doing their jobs. There were one or two who were cruel. Hali was one of them. “I thought it might be broken, but within a few days, you were right as rain.”

“Actually, in hindsight, I think it was broken. I healed quickly, so we decided that it couldn’t have been. And that time I got cut on the leg.” He looks down at his right thigh.

“Oh yes, on that jagged piece of salt.” My eyes widen. “I fell, and you caught me, taking the fall yourself.” I had forgotten about that. “It was really bad, but you don’t even have so much as a scar to show for it.”

“Exactly.”

“What did he say to you?” I look around us. “The general,” I whisper.

“He mostly asked questions about where we came from. Who we are. That kind of thing.”

“What did you tell him?”

He shrugs. “The truth.”

My eyes widen.

“It’s okay. We’re going to get out of this.” He looks left and right without moving his head. “Please, trust me.” His eyes bore into mine. “Please, Kyrie. I’m still me…I swear. I know I look different. I know my name has changed and my history along with it but I’m still the same person deep down inside, the person who caught you when you fell, who gave you my tokens. I swear it on my life. I need you to trust me. I know I keep saying it. I keep asking it of you, but now more than ever…you need to believe that I would never steer you wrong.”

I don’t hesitate. “I do. I trust you, Damon.”

The smile he gives me lights me up in ways that scare me. The shadowfae guards are right; the way we are looking at each other at this moment is not as friends would look at one another.

I hope that when he finally tells me whatever it is that he has been hiding that it won’t rip us apart again. I’m not sure whatever bond we have could survive it. Not again.