CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 9

OSRIK

The moment I landed backin Ranhold, I got the army moving.

It was a disorganized, rushed shitstorm, but there was no time to waste. Hopefully, the soldiers are restless and rested, because we have to get the fuck out of Fifth Kingdom.

On my horse, I gallop up and down the lines as the rest of the soldiers finish packing up. There are shouts and clangs, things being tossed unceremoniously in carts and barrels, tents being rolled up, and horses being saddled.

Within ten minutes, I had the front of the army moving. Another ten, and the middle was underway. Now, I’m getting the soldiers at the back in motion. Of course, a prick of a winter storm starts boasting its grit right as the last of us get going, blowing snow on top of us like it’s trying to prove it’s stronger.

Fuck that.

The army might be slightly unprepared in our hasty withdrawal, but they’re strong. Lu, Judd, Ryatt, Rip and I have all made sure of it.

Taking my horse around the ranks, I encourage them to go faster as they hastily get moving, while also making sure all the stragglers are accounted for. “Alright, Keg?” I holler.

The man dumps a pile of snow on top of the cooking fire, extinguishing it in a mess of steam and smoke before tossing a pot into the back of his cook’s cart. “Alright, Captain,” he calls back. “But this really cuts into my meal prep time for breakfast.”

“I’m sure your breakfast will be fine.”

He places his hand over his chest. “Aww, are you saying I’m the best, most capable cook in the army, Captain?”

I roll my eyes. “Keep an eye on things back here, will you? Whistle if you need me.”

“Will do.”

For the next hour, I tromp my horse up and down the lines, shouting encouragement and orders, getting everyone going quicker as we start to march away from Fifth. Normally, I’d wait for the storm to pass, but I don’t trust Queen Kaila, and considering what happened in that ballroom tonight, we can’t afford to sit around while they decide if they want to risk attacking us or not.

Rip wants the army back in Fourth, so I’ll get it back to Fourth.

But the sky is a dick. Slapping our faces with frigid air, spewing out streams of wet sleet. It’s turned the ground into a sloppy fucking nightmare, and the dripping wind just keeps groaning and crying like a little bitch.

I hate this Divine-damned kingdom.

I think that’s the consensus of every single soldier as we march all night, so at least the shitty elements are making us even more motivated to get the fuck out of here.

By the time I call for the army to stop, dawn is about to crest and the storm is still jacking off, dumping its endless load on us.

Fucking prick.

The mountain pass where I have us stop gives us some protection at least. Everyone pitches their tents, flint sparked to start hasty fires so we don’t all freeze to death. The mountainside blocks most of the wind, and if we angle the tents right, we keep most of the snow from tearing right through them.

Much to my horse’s irritation, I don’t stop checking the perimeter until I get a full headcount from all of the lieutenants and the first watch patrol has been put into effect. Only once most of the army are bundled up inside their tents or hovering around fires do I finally stop my vigil, bringing my horse to where the others are being sheltered.

As soon as I dismount, a soldier named Himinn rushes over. “I put up your tent, Captain,” he calls over the wind, snow battering his chapped face.

“I keep saying that you don’t have to do that shit for me,” I tell him.

The boy is barely ranked, only joined the army this past summer, and he’s been grateful for me accepting his application ever since. Caught him spit-shining my shoes once when I didn’t remember to put them away.

He shrugs with a smile, showing off his chipped front tooth, and then immediately takes the reins. “I’ll put your horse with the others, take good care of him.”

“Himinn,” I start to say, but I’m cut off when a sharp whistle sounds.

The soldier takes the opportunity to slink away with my mount, while I turn around and find Keg strolling up, twigs tied into his long, twisted hair.

“Remember when you told me to whistle if I needed you?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, that was a shit suggestion, Captain, because no one could hear a damn whistle in this storm.”

My eyes scan the surroundings, but tents and people are so jam-packed in the narrow mountain pass that if there is a problem, I can’t see it. “What’s the issue?”

“You’d better come see for yourself.”

Great.

I follow his zigzagging path as we trundle through the thick snow in the camp. We stop at his cooking fire, where a line of soldiers are serving themselves from a massive pot hanging on iron spokes over the flames.

“Did you drag me over here just to make sure I eat?” I ask.

Keg snorts. “No, but I am going to make sure you get a bowl, you know that.”

To demonstrate, he shoves past the line and scoops the thick stew into two tin bowls and hands them both to me.

I cock a brow. “Two?”

“You’ll see,” he says cryptically before he waves me forward.

With a sigh, I follow him, but the boiling hot broth keeps spilling on my damn fingers, burning right through my gloves and making me hiss. “Did you have to fill these so fucking full?” I grumble.

“You should practice your lightness of foot,” he calls back cheerfully. “That stew’s the best dinner in the camp. Those other army cooks are jealous as hell, as usual.”

With a laugh that comes out as a grunt, I keep walking until he stops in front of a tent. He holds the flap open expectantly, and I cock my head, stopping just in front of it. “If this is your way of propositioning me, you’re shit at it.”

Keg lets his head fall back as he laughs loudly. “Captain, you wound me. I’m romantic as fuck. If I was propositioning you, I’d knock your Divine-damned socks off.”

“Just so you know, my socks smell like shit.”

He jerks his head at the tent. “Get in there, you’re causing a draft, and the stew’s gonna get cold.”

Rolling my eyes, I duck inside. As soon as I’m in, he lets the flap fall closed with a “have fun” tossed with the wind as he walks away.

Frowning, I straighten up, and then my eyes adjust to the darker lighting and the warmer air, and my gaze immediately zeroes in on the woman wearing some fancy ass dress that has no business being worn out here in these conditions. The little coat she has on isn’t doing shit either.

The blonde stands up to face me, crossing her arms in front of her indignantly. “And just who are you?” she demands.

I blink at her, then at the second woman who’s lying on the pallet next to her, white as a sheet as she sleeps.

“I’m captain of the whole damn army right now. Who the fuck are you?” I counter, though she looks familiar.

Her lush lips press together in a thin line. “I’m Rissa. When I was leaving Ranhold, I ran into someone named Lu. She told me if I went to the army, you would take me with you out of Fifth Kingdom. She said Auren had talked to you all about it—that I could come with you.”

My thoughts snap back to that night when Auren told us about Rissa. About how the bitch was basically blackmailing her. I suggested we kill her.

I suggest killing a lot.

“Yeah, she did. Gildy is way too fucking nice,” I grumble under my breath.

“Excuse me?” she says in her uppity voice.

“You heard me,” I retort, looking at her with disgust. “You threatened her, made her give you shit in return for your silence, and still, all she wanted to do was help you. I said we should just kill you. Because if there’s one thing I hate, it’s disloyalty.”

A flash of outrage flares through her blue eyes. “Disloyalty?” She eats up the space between us, shocking the hell out of me when she pokes a manicured finger into my chest. “You listen here, you savage hairy giant. I’m a sex worker and a woman. You think I have the privilege of living my life on some moral high ground?” she spits out. “Well, let me tell you, I don’t. Saddles give the world the pleasure it wants, and what do we get in return? We’re controlled and judged, and that’s just best-case scenario. So you can hate me all you want, want to kill me even, but I do what I have to in order to survive in this world, and if that means I use information to my advantage, then I’m going to do it.”

She’s breathing hard, chest rising and falling, pink dots cropped up on her cheeks, and for some reason, my wall of irritation suddenly cracks, and out leaks the realization that she’s really fucking beautiful.

Damn the Divine.

How did I go from the killing suggestion to this?

Her speech was emboldened enough that I know she meant every word. A part of me even respects her for it. I know what it’s like to have to do whatever you need to in order to survive the world. For so much of my life, it was kill or be killed, and I chose to be alive.

I guess she did too.

But survival is also about choosing your loyalties wisely. When it comes to those I’m loyal to, I’m a fierce fucker.

My tongue flicks over the twisted wood piercing in my bottom lip. “Auren is loyal to you, but you’re not loyal to her. Simple as that. I don’t let disloyal people march with my army.”

The blonde stiffens. “Fine.” She turns around and starts shoving things into a bag, half her body lit up with the pile of simmering coals set in the center of the tent. “We’ll leave. I hope you sleep better at night knowing that you tossed out two helpless women into the Barrens and saved your precious conscience by upholding your high and mighty loyalty.”

My head tips back as a long-suffering sigh comes out of me. “Quit with the martyr shit,” I snap. “That’s not going to work on me. You can stay because we told Auren you could, and I always keep my word.”

Rissa stops what she’s doing, the skin at her eyes tightening, while I continue to stand here like an idiot, still holding two steaming bowls of stew. I shove one toward her. “Here.”

She hesitates for a moment, but I guess her hunger is stronger than her dislike for me, because she stands up and quickly takes it. When my eyes wander down to the way her lips close over the tin bowl, to the way she starts sipping it politely down, all sorts of dirty images pop up through the cracks of my thoughts.

Not good.

Shifting my focus, I down my own stew in a mess of slurps and chews and one hearty burp at the end. After I wipe the dripping broth from my beard with the back of my arm, I look up to find her watching me with her nose wrinkled in repulsion. “Are you not house-trained?” she sneers.

I grin back, all teeth. “You’re gonna learn real quick that those dainty sips aren’t gonna do shit when you’re starved and freezing. There’s no kings and nobles for you to sit around and impress. Just me.”

“As if I would ever strive to impress you,” she shoots back after taking another delicate drink. “You wouldn’t even be on the bottom of my list when I mark a room. I only ever go for the rich and cleanly.”

This time, I’m the one who eats up the space between us, my long strides taking me right in front of her. The way her pretty neck bends to look up at me is oddly attractive. Never thought I’d think someone’s fucking neck was a turn-on.

I’ve been in Fifth Kingdom too damn long. Blue balls from the weather must be real.

“Good news for both of us, Yellow Bell.”

She frowns. “Yellow Bell?”

I shrug. “It’s fitting. Flower’s yellow like your hair, and it tricks some people, because it might be pretty on the outside, but it’s pure poison.”

Her eyes go dark. “My hair is blonde, not yellow, you incompetent brute.”

I grin. “So you don’t deny the poison part? Interesting.”

She shoves the bowl back at me. “You can go now.”

“Since I’m the captain of the army, I’ll be giving the orders around here.”

“Great,” she mutters under her breath before she turns her back on me to sit down next to the sleeping woman.

I have to say, not many men would dare to turn their backs on me, so the fact that this woman is doing it without a care in the world makes me hard.

Yep. Definitely been in Fifth Kingdom too damn long.

“What’s with the broad?”

“Her name is Polly,” she bites out as she picks up a cloth and dabs the woman’s brow.

“She sick?”

“What do you care?”

I shrug. “Guess I don’t. But if she’s gonna be using up army resources with one of the menders, I need to know.”

She shoots me a look that’s colder than the storm outside. “She’s not contagious, and I don’t need anything from you or this army.”

“Other than our shelter, food, protection...”

I can practically hear her grind her teeth. I don’t know why riling her up makes me so fucking excited, but it does. She’s got spirit, and I didn’t know I liked that in a woman until right now.

Standing again, she turns to me with something fierce blazing in the depths of her blue eyes. With her gaze locked obstinately on mine, she starts to strip off her coat and then toes off her boots. But when she starts to pull at the sleeves of her dress and tug them down her shoulders, I startle. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“What?” she says with careless indifference. “This is what you want, right? You want me to pay for your services, Captain? I’m just a disloyal saddle, so I’d better compensate you for your generosity.”

I stand here like a fucking idiot as she tugs the sleeves the rest of the way off, revealing a set of perfect tits inside a dainty corset that’s squeezing them for dear life, making her curves swell with plumpness that begs to be let out and handled.

I go rock fucking hard. So hard, in fact, that all the blood I need for my damn brain to work has rushed in the wrong direction, so it takes several seconds for me to realize what she’s said.

As soon as I do, I get really fucking pissed.

“Pull your clothes back on,” I snap.

“Why?” she lobs. “This is what men want in exchange for anything. I’m just doing what I do.”

When she continues to stand there like an indignant tempest, I toss the bowls down and then stomp over to her. But when I move to jerk off my coat, she flinches.

She fucking flinches.

Like I was going to hit her or some shit.

And that just pisses me off even more, because flinching is a learned response, and now I know that she’s been hit before. Probably by some of those saddle-toying fucks who like to mistreat women. Maybe even by Midas himself.

Glowering, I go more slowly as I take off my coat and drape it over her. She stares at me without moving, not even breathing.

“I’m an asshole, but I would never take advantage of a woman,” I say gruffly.

Despite doing her best to shock me, it looks like I’ve shocked her now. She blinks like she doesn’t understand that I’m putting clothes on her instead of taking them off.

Graceful fingers come up to clutch the coat.

“You’re...giving me your coat?” she asks, and her voice is in a completely different tone now. Quieter. Confused. A hint of vulnerability behind that thorny exterior.

“I am,” I say with a nod, and I can’t help but let my eyes drop down to her lips. Fucking pretty. “I’ll make sure you both have some extra clothes. You can’t be tramping along Fifth Kingdom in a fucking gown and corset.”

Rissa eyes me dubiously. “You’re going to give me all of that?”

“I just said I was, didn’t I?”

“And…you don’t want me to fuck you?” she asks bluntly, as if she can’t quite believe it.

A grumbled chuckle comes out of me. “I didn’t say that. I said I won’t take advantage of you,” I reply, making the frown between her brows deepen. I give in to temptation for a second and lean in closer, and just like I suspected, she smells faintly of flowers. “When we fuck, it’ll happen because you want it to happen.”

There’s a spark of heat in her eyes right before she puts it out, and that petulant, pouting look comes back over her face. “What makes you think I’d ever want to?”

I give her a crooked smile before I turn and scoop up the bowls. “Because, Yellow Bell, you might be poisonous, but you’re not immune. There’s something here.”

“Yeah, loathing.”

With a grin tucked behind my beard, I head for the tent’s opening, stopping to look over my shoulder at her one more time as I push back the flap. “What’s the fun in it if you don’t loathe each other just a little bit?”

I walk out, leaving her sputtering, but I didn’t miss the blush that covered her cheeks.

The long journey back to Fourth Kingdom just got a lot more enticing.