7. Chapter Seven

After Edmund consumes some meat and two cups of tea, I finally let him drift off into a fitful sleep. The anesthetic had worn off after a while and the poor boy was starving. He will need to wake up and eat more in a couple of hours, but for now, he manages to keep down what I offer. As I uncurl my legs from underneath me, the tension in my body relaxes, and I watch him slowly take easier breaths, a tinge of color coming back to his skin. The guards have switched twice to keep watch and make sure I don't run off. Standing up, I scoop the two empty bowls from the ground. Although his condition is improving, we aren't out of the woods yet. I stand in a daze, stretching my limbs after sitting for so long.

Delirious from my exhaustion, I find myself laughing at the absolute mess of this situation. If someone had told me a week ago that I would be kidnapped on charges of rebellious activities, dragged halfway to another kingdom, not to mention tending to one of my captor's wounds, I would have said it sounded a lot like one of my adventure books. Maybe I am just dreaming, and this is all a book induced hallucination. I glance down, realizing that I am still holding the empty bowls I intended to clean. Stifling a yawn with my hand, I blink my dry and gritty eyes; the forest blurring around me. I take a few hesitant steps, before I tip with exhaustion. The forest floor flies up to meet me as the bowl falls from my hand. Squeezing my eyes shut, I brace for the impact of the hard ground.

But the hard impact never comes. A soothing warmth of air cushions me and propels me up, my back firmly pressed against the trunk of a tree. The rough bark bites into the delicate skin of my back as the wind caresses the exposed skin at my arms, neck, and face. Aramis steps towards me, bracing his arms on either side of my head.

"Must you always be in need of rescue?" he whispers, a feverish gleam in his eye.

This close, I can see the muscles of his biceps straining against the fabric of his sleeves. The slight wave of blond hair falls in his face as he gazes down at me. Why must he be so terribly handsome? It would be easier to hate him.

"When I was tasked to obtain a leader of the shifter rebels, I never imagined you would be so–" He lifts a hand towards my face before letting it fall clenched to his side.

"What?" I ask, watching him war with constraint. His blue eyes, as light as the sky, are commanding and tentative at the same time. With the press of his strong arms caging me into the tree, I find myself getting lost.

"You." His gaze falls to my lips, causing me to raise my brow in question. A gentle breeze caresses my cheek, ruffling the strands of my hair.

"Me?" I raise an eyebrow at him as he slumps to sit at my feet, leaning against the tree. I tentatively lower myself to the ground next to him then stifle a yawn.

"You're exhausted," he says with a sigh turning his head, studying me. I have to look a mess; hair disheveled, dark circles under my eyes. Not exactly your picturesque beauty of the heroines from my stories. "Go rest before we resume our journey tomorrow. You've been tending Edmund for hours."

I bristle at his demand. "I cannot rest. My priority at this moment is making sure he"s stable."

"How can you care about him so much if you don't even know him," Aramis slurs as he leans closer, his shoulder pressing into mine.

"I am a healer," I say, pausing to brush invisible lint off my skirt. "Or at least I hope to be one day. Saving people's lives is a healer's duty, no matter whose life it is. At this rate, I want to prove to all of you that you have the wrong person." Aramis turns away from me back towards the camp where, through the trees, I can see Edmund's body curled up beside the fire, and choose to move away from those thoughts. "Seems like you know Edmund pretty well…"

Aramis laughs, his gaze is distant recalling a memory from long ago. "I thought I'd never meet someone more obstinate than me, until I met Edmund. When the boy was ten he used to follow me around the capital like a shadow, begging me to teach him how to use a sword. He used to tell everyone he would become the greatest swordsman Shadowvale had ever seen, after me of course." He chuckles and I roll my eyes at the absurdity of his ego but warmth spreads in my core at the sweet memory.. "When he turned sixteen, merely four seasons ago, I caved in and agreed on letting him join the King's guard, promising that I would keep him under my wing, and now look at him."

Silence falls between us as we both stare at the male. "How did you and Edmund meet?"

Aramis' body tenses beside me. I whip my head back towards him. What did I say?

"Nero and I were out to one of the cities rumored to have been attacked by shifters, but we arrived too late. The shifters had attacked leaving half the town dead or injured. He was only six, clinging to his dead mother"s blouse begging her to wake up. Telling her as tears streamed down her face that he hid like she told him and that the monsters were gone and she could wake up now and stop pretending," he says through gritted teeth.

My heart beats wildly in my chest at the image unfolding in my mind. For a child to lose their parents at such a young age in such a tragic way… An attack like that wasn't an act of rebellion, but pure evil.

"So, I couldn't leave him orphaned to fend for himself in a half-burnt village. I took Edmund back to the capital with me and ensured he had everything he needed growing up. I promised him I would avenge his parents and kill the shifter bastards who did this and make sure no shifter would harm another child in my kingdom."

"Right because we're all bastards in your eyes, I am such a fool…" I move to stand up but Aramis grabs my arm, pulling me. I lose my balance, nearly falling into his lap, our faces mere inches apart. My breath hitches as he drops his gaze to my lips.

"Sybil," he whispers, his voice husky.

A whiff of alcohol on his breath takes me out of my haze, and is a splash of cold water on my face. I lift my hands against his chest and push to my feet.

"Aramis, you are drunk," I scoff, completely unimpressed. "Remember who you're talking to? Your prisoner? I am one of the shifter bastards?" I spit out, hurt filling my voice. "Or did you hit your head and forget?" I cast my eyes to the ground as the complicated emotions of our current position war in my stomach.

"Sybil, look at me." His voice is a rolling wave, powerful and commanding as he stands up and grabs my wrist.

"Let go of me," I whisper vehemently as I tug out of his grasp.

"Sybil, wait…" Aramis' voice is still cold and commanding, but it's softened. He sighs, continuing, "I hate everything about your kind. It's true–or at least it feels like it's true. I even want to hate you. But—" He shakes his head and takes an unsteady step towards me, which I respond by taking a step backwards.

"But why!?" I demand, reliving old frustrations.

Aramis purses his lips, refusing to respond to my commentary. He studies me, like I'm a puzzle he can't solve. And this time my patience ebbs.

"Let me tell you one thing, Prince Aramis of Shadowvale. Your inability to distinguish between some questionable shifters and the whole goddamn shifter population is not my issue. The fact that you are unsure whether you hate me or not, shows that you are not thinking with your own head. Make up your own mind Prince, stop being blinded by the lies they have been feeding you and most importantly, stop being so bloody indecisive!" My voice is escalating to near shouting levels with all my anger. "I'm tired of your hot and cold behavior. You are so out of touch with your emotions you wouldn't be able to recognise happiness even if it stood right in front of you!" I place my hands on my hips, desperate to prevent myself from hitting him and raising his ire.

"I have a duty that must be upheld to my people, my kingdom, and my father. I am the high prince of Shadowvale, and will do what is required of me," he says unconvincingly as he taps a finger at his chest in emphasis. "I am not the bad guy here, Sybil."

"You kidnapped me from my home," I say with a note of finality. "Maybe you are not the bad guy in your story, but you are the villain in mine."

Aramis rolls his eyes at me, and we're back to square one. Any sort of progress we've made has evaporated. "The order to bring you to Shadowvale is not my command, but the King and Queen. I swear to you," he replies, almost on a groan. Aramis runs his fingers through his hair with frustration, takes a few steps towards me then abruptly stops, and stands rigid.

"Then let me go. I have proved to you that I have no ties to the rebels, they must have made a mistake. Let me go back to my life," I hiss with anger. The fire in my chest quickly simmering to a smoldering hate as I glare at him.

"You know I can't do that," he says with a decisive tone that leaves no room for argument.

My hands tighten into fists and my heart races. "You might not know if you despise me, but I do. I hate you, Aramis. I hate you for stealing me away. I am exhausted. I haven't bathed in days. I miss my bed. I miss my home." These tired truths are slowly killing me.

"Well–you could…" Aramis breaks off his thought, unsure.

"What?"

"You could use my sleeping roll. It's the least I can offer after you've saved Edmund's life."

I bark out unexpected laughter–and Aramis glares in my direction like he wishes death upon me. "–I owe you a debt. And it's far better than what you have." He points towards the sleeping form of Edmund laying on my pack and cloak. Frustration flares in his eyes as he watches me back away from him.

A wild laugh escapes my lips once more, and my eyes roll at the absurdity of sharing the same sleeping space with him. Sitting on a horse all day with him is bad enough.

"You have utterly lost your mind if you think I'm going to share a bedroll with you." I giggle.

"Fine." His mouth sets into a frown as he crosses his arms over his chest.

"Fine!" My heart beats wildly in my chest and I have this overwhelming sensation that I might just leap out of my own skin. I stomp over to the fire and lay down on the hard ground, cradling my head under my arm. I hate him. I repeat the words endlessly in my head but no matter how many times I think them, there's a part of me that refuses to make them sound true.

***

Rays of sunlight filter through the trees above, mingling with the sounds of breaking camp. Stretching, I slowly rouse to consciousness, the memories of last night causing me to squeeze my thighs together and pull the thick warm cedarwood scented cloak further over my head.

Wait… this isn't my cloak.

I quickly push the heavy cloth off my body and instantly regret the quick movement. I ignore my body's protests as I stretch out my stiff muscles, reaching down to touch my toes before standing up to go check on my patient.

Edmund has survived the remainder of the night. Once I am sure the stitches are secure and the bandages firmly in place without new signs of infection, I put the spare supplies back in the medical bag. The young boy looks warily at me as I bring him a steaming cup of willow bark tea.

"This will help you with your pain," I say, my lips pressing into a thin line.

"Thank you," he says begrudgingly, then grimaces as he takes a sip. "Ugh, this is terrible. Are you trying to poison me?"

"I'm sorry I have nothing sweet to cut down the bitterness, but it should ease your suffering without affecting your ability to ride." I instinctively reach out and check the pulse at his wrist as I watch him drink the bitter brew.

"I don't suppose I could add a dash of Dark Starlight to it? If it has to taste so bitter at least it could have a good kick." He raises his eyebrows in amusement with a chuckle but his cordial affect fades to a stony expression as a shadow drifts over us.

"It looks like you are in good enough spirits to continue on, Edmund?" Aramis moves forward to inspect the boy with a stern face. But it only lasts a second as Aramis immediately kneels next to the boy. "You scared me to death, you little idiot," he says with a relieved grin and tousles Edmund's already unruly hair.

The young guard gasps in pain as the movement causes him to lay his weight on his injured leg, but he is all smiles and duty around Aramis.

"I had to watch your back, Aramis!" Edmund retorts, admiration shining in his eyes. Aramis chuckles but instantly turns serious. "I appreciate that, but you put yourself in danger. You can't become the best swordsman in all of Shadowvale from the grave. No more heroics, you hear me?"

Edmund nods gravely, "Yes, my Prince".

"Now let's get you on a horse so we can deliver the prisoner and get back to those sparring lessons." Aramis adds as he puts one of Edmund's arms around his neck to help him stand up. The young guard is shaky on his feet but he can stand, so he makes his way towards Nero and the other men with a slight limp.

"Oh, back to prisoner again, are we?" I glare defiantly as I stretch my body to its full height, my small frame quivering with determination as I square my shoulders.

"Until I release you into the king and queen's care, you will be whatever I care to call you," Aramis snaps. "Now tell me, is Edmund ready to ride?" He looks over my shoulder at the boy who is now laughing with the rest of the guards.

I move my body to block his view, meeting his eyes again as I put my hands on my hips. "And if I say that he's not safe to ride?" I raise an eyebrow, challenging him.

"If he doesn't leave with us, then he is welcome to stay and face whatever beasties deem him worthy of a snack." Aramis scoffs. "We've already wasted enough precious time. I need to deliver you and return to more important matters."

"Cause you would definitely do that to Edmund. Sure," I declare. "You care about that boy more than you care about yourself."

He grabs my shoulders, pulling me close until our faces are centimeters apart. The heat of his fingers burns into my skin through the fabric of my chemise and a flush creeps into my cheeks at the touch. Goddess, was it only this morning when we were in a similar stance, mere inches apart? Would he have attempted to kiss me had I not scented alcohol on his breath and pushed him away?

"You know nothing about what I care or don't care about," Aramis hisses with anger. Goddess, I can see the hardness of his muscles that bulge from his arms. My heart races as I contemplate my temper and its effect on him.

"If I have ever given you the impression that you are anything more than a low life shifter I have no care for, I deeply apologize. You are a mission for me, prisoner. I will deliver you to the King and Queen and I will never see you again. It's that easy. Now answer my question. Is Edmund safe to ride?" The words taste bitter as Aramis' fingers tighten on my shoulders to the point of pain as he grits his teeth and glowers at me. I fight my desire and stand up for the battle ahead of me.

"You're such an arrogant, selfish bastard–" I start, but the pressure of thick muscular arms pushing us away from each other, abruptly cuts off my words.The sudden interruption takes me by surprise making me lose my balance and I fall onto my rear. Lemon lets out a disgruntled squeak. Quickly covering my mouth with a hand, I hope they did not overhear him in the commotion. That bloody male just gets right under my skin, in the worst and best of ways.

"Now I've heard enough of ye both." Nero looks between the two of us, then up to the meager trail through the forest. "We have a long journey ahead and it does nae anyone good to get into a yelling match. Beyond the facts that we are painting targets on our backs for the beasts, bandits, or anything else." Nero looks steadily at me. "Sybil, is Edmund safe to travel?"

I ignore his proffered hand, pushing myself up from the ground before dusting my body, and pride, off. "If we take it easy and he doesn't try anything wild, then the stitches should hold. He's going to need extra food while his body is healing and replenishing the blood he lost." I nibble on my bottom lip, my eyes casting to the ground as I move a small stone over the toe of my boot.

"That settles it then. Pack up the rest and we will move out." Aramis reaches down and picks up the leather healing satchel and the coat that has kept me warm during the night, then moves to strap them to his stallion's saddle. It was his coat.

"Come Sybil," he says coldly, motioning to me, but I stay rooted to the spot.

"Perhaps Sybil should ride with me for a while," Nero offers.

"No," Aramis growls, taking a possessive step towards me, glaring at his friend. I look up, meeting his gaze. The intensity of his icy blue eyes sends a chill through my body. "If she wants to play with the beast, she will have to deal when it bites."

Aramis grabs my wrists, roughly tugging me towards him. My eyesight fades as he places a dark silky cloth over my eyes. Panic settling in my bones as the knot on the back of my head tightens. My head spins as I begin to hyperventilate from the loss of my vision. I try to steady my breaths, just to settle my rapid heartbeat. I need to keep conscious. I need to know what happens.

"What are you doing to me?" I argue–just one last time while lifting my hands, attempting to push the fabric from my face.

Rough hands grab my wrists and I'm jerked forward, stumbling over my feet. Warm breath caresses my ear as my captor replies.

"You are my prisoner, not my companion. You've been granted too much freedom as it is. So don't bother struggling. You won't like where it gets you." Aramis whispers. Icy dread pools in my core at his words. And the dread, perhaps, isn't just from the tone of his whisper, but also the promise it held, should I not obey him.