Chapter 11

S tryker left me shackled to one of the corner posts inside the carriage and rode beside us on a horse, sending me a clear message that he didn’t want to have any more conversations like that. We didn’t stop to rest or sleep in our tents, instead we rode through the night and all the next day. Stryker and I slept in the carriage sitting up. Barely sleeping was more like it. What had been a leisurely ride to the Jewel Spring Mountains on the way over had become a race to the southern border now. We rode fast and hard and I often felt nauseated from the way the carriage shook.

It felt like we’d been on the road forever by the time we reached the southern border. The flowering dogwoods, redbud and magnolia trees of the Eastern Kingdom turned into beautiful and lush palm trees, the sun was low in the sky.

After crossing the border we rode deeper into the Southern Kingdom for several more hours. It was late into the night and at some point I’d nodded off again, but I woke with a jolt when the carriage finally came to a stop and Stryker’s voice rang out.

“Get a ways off the road and make camp, then wait for word from me,” he ordered one of his men. I peeked out the window to find him mounted on his horse only a foot from the carriage.

“You,” he said, calling another one of his guards. He lowered his voice when the guard moved closer. “Take five men and change out of your uniform and into plain clothes. Go to the gambling halls, brothels, and taverns and try to dig up any information you can about the black market here. Ask about rubies for sale but be discreet.”

The guards nodded before taking off and then Stryker looked down and caught me peering at him from within the carriage. The moment his gaze connected with mine I felt my heartbeat flutter. I took in a slow breath, embarrassed it only took a single glance to get me so flustered and at the same time thankful there was no way he could know that my heartbeat just spiked. But even as I thought it, his gaze dropped to my neck where I imagined he could see my pulse jumping wildly in my vein.

“Where are we?” I asked.

Why does my voice sound so breathy?

Stryker frowned down at me, but it only made my heart beat faster. What was wrong with me? The air between us had changed since that raw conversation in the carriage. He hadn’t shackled himself to me in a while and he’d stopped calling me a witch somewhere along the way.

“Just outside the town of Beggar’s Hole,” he said, and I let out a half-laugh.

“Beggar’s Hole? You’re kidding.” That can’t actually be the name of the town.

His frown turned into a full-blown scowl. “I wish I were. This is a gambling village in the northern region of the Southern Kingdom. A cesspool of corruption and our best guess as to the location of the black market where my stolen riches are being sold.

“We don’t want to ride into town in a group and tip off the thieves, so we’re splitting up. Some of my men will stay back and wait for my orders. You’ll be riding with me. I’ll need you by my side if we have to interrogate anyone. We’re going to pretend to be a married couple to keep suspicions low.”

Married couple! I should have balked at that, but instead it somehow felt … right. Like an exciting role to play. And I wasn’t half as freaked out about that as I should have been. Maybe I wasn’t fully awake yet?

“Oh, very well,” I said, proud that I managed to keep my voice steady.

Stryker dismounted and then came to the carriage, swinging the door wide open. Without getting in, he reached forward and grasped my ankle.

It was a chaste touch, but a pulse of warmth shot up my leg from where his fingers wrapped around me. I didn’t have to look in a mirror to know that my cheeks were heating, but luckily Stryker’s focus was on my shackle and not my face.

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a key and then a moment later the shackle fell off my leg. Even though the shackle hadn’t been terribly uncomfortable, it still felt amazing to be free of it. I looked down on Stryker with a question in my eyes only to find his gaze fastened on my lips.

Noticing I was watching him, he quickly straightened and cleared his throat. If I didn’t know better I’d say he was embarrassed.

“I can’t keep you shackled if I want people to believe we’re married,” he said in answer to my unspoken question.

I shrugged. “Some people have weird marriages.” I tried for a joke and was rewarded with the corner of his lips curling, but the smile was washed away almost as soon as I’d seen it.

He pressed his lips together in a hard line then and gave me a curt nod. Once I descended from the carriage he put his hands on my waist and gently helped me into the saddle of his horse before swinging up behind me. He barked a couple more orders to his men and then we were off.

We moved at a brisk pace, but nowhere near as fast as we had the last time I rode in front of him when we were racing back to the inn from the plundered ruby mines. Stryker’s arms wrapped around me from behind as he held the reins, his chest a firm but warm wall against my back.

His cinnamon and sandalwood scent was everywhere and utterly intoxicating. I had to stop myself from turning my face and burying it in his chest to get a better hit of it. Being this close to him was turning out to be some sort of exquisite torture I’d never experienced before. I couldn’t help but wonder if he felt it too.

It was too short of a ride before we reached Beggar’s Hole. The moon had passed the midpoint of the night sky, yet the streets were filled with rowdy fae. Rowdy drunken fae.

As Stryker slowed our horse to a walk, I took in the establishments that lined the main street. They were all still lit up and brimming with life. The balconies on the three-story townhouse on our right were filled with scantily clad women, yelling to the men below. My ears started to heat from embarrassment when I heard some of the things they said, and I pointedly looked away. I felt Stryker’s chest rumble with laughter behind me.

On the other side of the street a fistfight had broken out in front of a gambling hall. Shouted accusations of cheating rang out as two men grappled with each other. Stryker had to jerk the horse over when they fell to the ground and rolled into the street, but the fae that passed them hardly offered more than a cursory glance before moving on.

Beggar’s Hole was like a whole new world. One I wasn’t sure I was ready for, but I felt secure with Stryker’s strong presence at my back. Something that I definitely wouldn’t have said a few weeks ago. It’s amazing how much can change in only a few weeks.

Stryker turned our horse down a side street and stopped in front of a narrow four-story townhouse wedged between two near-empty taverns. There was a sign above the door that read, “Rooms for Rent.”

He dismounted and tied the horse’s reins to the hitching post out front. I started to get off as well, but before I could do much more than swing my leg over the horse’s neck, Stryker’s hands were on my waist, gently helping me down. He took his time, letting my body slide against his and not stepping back until my feet touched the ground. Even though I hadn’t exerted myself at all, I found I was breathless.

“We’ll stay here for the night,” he said, his voice gruff.

With a hand on my lower back he led me into the townhouse. The clerk behind the counter was half-asleep and jolted when Stryker announced we needed a room. After collecting payment, he sleepily handed a key to Stryker, telling him the room was on the top floor at the end of the hall.

As we climbed the four flights of stairs to reach our room I felt Stryker’s gaze on my back like a physical caress. This wasn’t the first time we’d shared a room together, but something about it felt weightier, more meaningful than before. Maybe it was because I was unshackled, so I felt less like his prisoner, even though in actuality I very much still was. Maybe it was because we were posing as husband and wife.

My stomach tumbled when we reached the dimly lit room. It was sparse with only a washbasin atop a simple dresser, and a wooden chair next to another single bed that was pushed in the corner.

The bed wasn’t much bigger than the one at the last inn. I eyed it, wondering if I was going to have to sleep on the floor again. And then I thought, if given the choice between the floor and sharing a bed with Stryker, which one I would choose?

I peered over at Stryker to find him staring back at me and knew instantly what my answer would be.

Heat bloomed in my gut and I pressed a hand to my chest, feeling my heartbeat frantically beneath my palms. A wave of dizziness washed over me and I stumbled a bit, grabbing the foot of the small bed for support.

Stryker stepped in front of me, his unguarded gaze tinged with concern. “What’s wrong? Is it your heart?”

Seeing the worry shining in his eyes only made my weak heart beat faster. Thank the stars he wasn’t a mind reader because if he knew the thoughts running through my head I would surely die of embarrassment.

“I’m fine,” I said, taking in slow, even breaths through my nose to calm myself.

Taking my arm, Stryker led me to the side of the bed and encouraged me to sit down. The blanket beneath my hand was scratchy and I focused on that to distract my mind from other, more excitable thoughts.

When I finally felt as if I had myself under control, I glanced up into Stryker’s gray-blue eyes. So often Stryker’s face was shuttered toward me, but looking at him now was like reading an open book. It was all there, plainly for me to see.

Longing. Sadness. Concern. Desire.

I wondered if he realized how much he was revealing to me.

“Is your heart okay?” he asked.

“The spells come and go. I’m fine now,” I assured him, but I could tell he wasn’t convinced.

He reached out and took my hand, startling me. He placed his fingers on my wrist and then his lips moved silently, taking count. It took several moments to realize he was tracking my heartbeat.

“I’m fine, really,” I said, suddenly shy. I tried to pull my hand back, but he held firm. When he swiped his thumb over the tender flesh on my wrist, I couldn’t help the small intake of breath.

How could such a chaste touch feel so criminally good?

One corner of Stryker’s mouth hitched up in a smirk. Smiles were infrequent for the Ethereum lord, and smirks even rarer. It made my stomach tumble all over again.

“Your heartbeat is picking up,” he said. “Should I be concerned?” He was teasing me, but the air between us was too charged to banter back.

I licked my lips to find them already sensitive. Stryker’s gaze dropped to my mouth and I swear shadows swirled in the dark corners of the room.

Stryker leaned forward and the breath stilled in my lungs. Lifting a hand, he brushed a strand of my thick hair behind my ear and then let his fingers trail along my jaw.

“So soft,” he all but whispered.

We were on the edge of a cliff. I felt it. One step forward and we’d fall over together.

Stars. I never wanted anything more than to take that step.

My eyelids felt heavy, and I let them drop to half-mast. I slanted my head back in silent invitation and heard Stryker’s breath catch.

He moved even closer, aligning our lips so they were only a hair’s breadth apart. So close I could almost taste them, but rather than closing that minuscule space, he held still.

My eyes slid closed of their own accord and I started to tilt my head, too desperate to feel his mouth against mine to wait for him, when I heard an all too familiar click.

I reared back and my eyes snapped open when I felt the cold metal cuff circling my wrist rather than his warm fingers. I was disoriented for only a few seconds and then a churning cauldron of anger boiled over inside, searing away the last vestiges of desire he’d awoken in me.

He’d shackled me to the bed and used seduction to distract me while he did.

“You … you fiend ,” I spat, my rage made up of equal parts betrayal and humiliation.

I yanked on it, testing its strength and instantly knew that it would do its job tethering me in place.

I looked back up at him with fire in my eyes. He’d risen to his full height and backed away several steps. To his credit, he didn’t look smug, only resigned.

“Why?” I choked out, hating that my anger was already starting to tip toward sorrow. I glanced away, not wanting him to read in my gaze just how deeply he’d cut me.

“I have to go meet with my men and see if they’ve discovered anything,” he said. His voice stoic and even. Cold. I flinched at the tone as if I’d been slapped and I heard his slight intake of breath.

“I can’t—” he started, a hint of warmth in his voice.

I looked up at him when he didn’t go on and saw the conflict written on his face.

“I would have stayed here if you’d asked,” I said, letting him see the truth of my words in my eyes.

His brow pinched and something deeper, more raw than indecision fell over him. It felt for a moment like he warred with himself, but then one side won.

Throwing his shoulder’s back he looked down on me with a coldness that chilled me. “No. Women aren’t to be trusted. I can’t have you running off to betray me.”

Women aren’t to be trusted. Where did that come from?

But then my gaze tripped over the scars on Stryker’s face, reminding me of a time he had put his trust in a woman, and what it had cost him.

Hatred for the woman who betrayed Stryker rose up in my heart, for she hadn’t just left scars on his face, but on his heart as well. I was seeing them now.

“Your gift is too valuable to me,” he went on. “I can’t take the risk that you’ll flee. I’ll be back before first light. You can rest here.”

It felt like he’d pierced my chest with an ice pick. My gift was what was valuable to him. Not me, but my gift and what I could do for him.

I’d started to truly care for this man, but all he saw when he looked at me was a means to an end. That more than stung, it cut.

Turning away from him, I wrapped my arms around myself as I curled on my side, facing the wall. I held on tight, feeling like Stryker had just sliced me down the middle and that if I let go, I’d break apart.

“Aribella,” he whispered, his voice softening. “I didn’t mean—”

“Just go,” I said, cutting him off. I wanted to be alone now. “I’ll be here. Your captive little truth witch to use as you see fit.”

Stryker didn’t leave right away. He stood in the middle of the room for several more minutes, silent. I curled into a tighter ball, wishing he would go already so that I could let myself fall to pieces.

Eventually I heard him stomp toward the door and throw it open. “I’ll lock the door. You’ll be safe,” he said and then paused for another few heartbeats.

If he was expecting a response from me, he would be waiting for eternity, for I had nothing left to say to him.

He heaved a sigh and then the door closed. A second later I heard the telltale sound of a lock being engaged.

I counted to thirty, and then let the tears that had been clawing at the back of my eyes escape. My throat tightened as I let myself feel this betrayal and fully process it. I’d been so stupid to trust an Ethereum lord! Queen Liliana would kill me if she knew I’d been dying to kiss him.

By the time I was done crying I was exhausted and it didn’t take long to fall into a heavy sleep. My body and mind were both wrung out from the long day. My dreams were a kaleidoscope of images. My mother and father sitting on their thrones, Stryker’s stern face, the brilliant red, orange, and purple leaves of the Fall Court foliage, the dark abyss of Stryker’s dungeon.

Scene after scene of my life in the Fall Court meshed with my experiences in Ethereum in a nonsensical loop. My mind was a jumbled mess so in the middle of the night when a hand clamped over my mouth, waking me from sleep, and someone warned me that if I screamed they’d slit my throat, I was too disoriented to do what I’d been trained to and lash out at them with my magic.

By the time I became aware enough to fight back, they’d slapped a foul-smelling cloth over my mouth and nose, and darkness reached up to reclaim me.