29. Twenty-Six

Throwing up in an army camp was worse than doing it on a boat. For one thing, there were fewer people on the boat to hear me do it. The elves then had been sympathetic. Now, as I heaved up my guts in a freshly dug ditch, they laughed at the human who couldn't hold his ale. It was mostly good-natured ribbing, but I didn't have the temperament or the voice for it. All I could do was scowl, wipe a sleeve over my mouth, and get back to my morning duties.

When I returned to Ruith's tent, he was there, looking like he hadn't spent the entire night sleeping somewhere else. Waking up and finding his side of the bed empty had sent such a pang of regret through me, I immediately wondered what I'd done. I remembered drinking with Hawk and Luthar, and telling them I'd make it back to the other side of camp fine on my own and then…

Flashes of a dance with complicated footwork. Errant touches, finding someone's lips in the dark.

I didn't think it went further than that. If it had, whomever my bed partner was, he must've been painfully disappointing, as I woke harder than a steel post. The vomiting had put a quick stop to any thoughts about dealing with that, though.

Ruith watched me dump his bath water in the tub. "How's your head?"

I scowled in answer.

He smirked. "I did try to warn you. I'll excuse you from fetching my breakfast just this once. I'd rather have my gruel without your stomach lining."

He stood, and I went to attend to him, helping him out of his clothes. He was still wearing the same clothes as the night before, all rumpled. I wondered if he'd fallen into bed with someone finally. I knew it had been some time for him. Even longer for me. I tried not to think about that as I undressed him.

Dressed in his armor or his riding leathers, Ruith was different from he was without them. Although, I supposed most men were different without their clothes. Unlike most men, he didn't possess the usual sense of vulnerability when he was naked, nor any unearned pride. Undressing him, I was instructed from the beginning to ensure as little skin to skin contact as possible. Ideally, none at all. Still, it was impossible not to notice the bunching of thick muscle on his shoulders and arms from swinging his sword, the powerful build of his chest, the rise and fall of his abdominal muscles…

He was built like a lot of the guards back in Ostovan, the ones who had practically been born with a sword in their hands, except the elves favored body hair while humans found it generally distasteful. While he had plenty, mine actually grew in thicker, which was a constant annoyance to me. I was used to waxing and shaving it frequently, and it itched growing back.

Aside from the first few days, when I was still getting used to elvish customs and standards of beauty, I was generally unaware of most of those things. He was a man in good health, and thus possessed a body that reflected such. That was it.

The day after the party at the Godsfel was different. Perhaps it was the headache, the lingering effects of the drink, or having an unsatisfactory encounter the night before, but I noticed it then, my eyes lingering on the small of his back before dropping to the fine curve of his ass and the thick muscle of his thighs.

I couldn't stop myself from imagining what it would be like to give myself to him, to let him touch me freely. To indulge, to taste and be tasted. It didn't have to be passionate, but it would be. Ruith was the sort of man who gave nothing less than his best to every task.

I turned away, feeling heat in my face, despite all the blood rushing elsewhere.

On the days Ruith decided to bathe himself, I usually went out to get his breakfast, but since I couldn't do that, I sat on my rug, awaiting whatever instruction he had. He was silent, which felt like a reprieve, given the pain in my head. Still, curiosity churned in my belly about the night before. There seemed to be something different in the air between us. I needed to know what I had done.

Carefully, I took up my slate and wrote a question, holding it until he noticed it.

Ruith's eyes scanned the slate. There was something unreadable in his expression when he stopped washing to look at me. "You were drunk. Does it matter what you did?"

"Yes," I wrote emphatically. And then, cheeks burning, I added, "Who is more important than what."

His lips turned up in a bemused smile before he closed his eyes and went back to scrubbing his chest and arms. "No one that I know of. Although not for lack of trying. You were quite amorous when I put you to bed."

Divine help me. I didn't.

When he opened his eyes and saw me staring at him in horror, his smile fell. Speaking matter-of-factly, he said, "You kissed me. I rejected you. You fell asleep. That was the end of it."

Hardly, I thought. He was almost certainly going to hold that over my head in some way.

"You were full of drink," he said, and turned his back to me. "And the blood always runs hot after a battle, more so when you're the hero of the day. Honestly, if I hadn't intervened, you might've crawled into bed with anyone. You made quite a show of dancing half naked with some of the men."

My face burning, I kicked the end of the tub.

Ruith cracked open an eye. "I was simply maintaining the virtue of my property."

I snorted and scrawled on the slate, "I'm no blushing virgin."

"I find that hard to believe. You kiss like a virgin, and every time the subject of fucking comes up, you go white as a wedding sheet. You've rejected every hole I've thrown at you, said you want neither man nor woman. If I hadn't felt your prick harden against me, I would've thought you a eunuch. I can't imagine how anyone would find lying with you satisfactory."

I shot to my feet, red faced. If I'd had my voice and a sword, if this had been Ostovan, I'd have dueled with him in the street. Men didn't say such things unless they wanted a fight.

He glanced down at my clenched fists. "Kneel, slave."

The words were like a knife twisting in my gut. He hadn't given me orders like that since the beginning, but I should've expected as much. Elves were nothing but backstabbing, selfish pricks. He didn't care about me beyond whatever use I was to him. How na?ve of me to think of him as anything more than another master.

Jaw clenched, I lowered my head and knelt.

Ruith stood, the water cascading down from his body to land back in the tub. "Never forget what you are. Not a hero. Not my equal. My property. Or do you need to go back to the lashing post for a reminder?"

It was a good thing the collar kept me from speaking my mind, or that's exactly where I would have been. Because I could do nothing else, I bowed and put my forehead to the floor.

"Go," he commanded. "Stay out of my sight today. I have other business."

I rose slowly and went out, never lifting my eyes from the floor.

Without direct orders on what to do, I was lost. The army had decided to make camp at the Godsfel, though no one seemed to know why we lingered just across the border. I heard several men muttering about it, though no one complained too hard. Everyone was hungover. They thought the commander's choice was an admirable one. He was being generous, letting them sober up before marching on.

I found myself wandering through camp, paying no mind to where I was or where I was going. I should've known that would lead to trouble.

"Hey, it's you."

I stopped walking at the familiar sound of Ieduin's voice.

They clapped me on the back as if we were old friends. "Glad I ran into you. Have you seen Nessir? He didn't come to bed last night. Since he said you two were close, I thought maybe you knew who he'd fallen in with."

Into a pit of venomous snakes, hopefully, I thought, but shook my head.

"Damn. Well, if you see him, tell him I'm looking for him."

I most definitely would not. Nessir could rot. I wasn't in the mood to trade barbs with him.

A short while later, a loud trumpet broke the silence. Heads everywhere lifted and frowns appeared as a small group of messengers in blue and white cloaks trimmed with purple rode in carrying a white flag. They looked official. I wondered if Ruith needed me to attend to him for a meeting with them, then remembered he'd said he didn't want to see me.

Angry, I went back to kicking a pebble down a path. Before I realized it, my pacing took me away from the camp and I found myself lost in the skeletal remains of a castle. White stone jutted from the ground at odd angles. Cobwebs hung from posts like banners. The remains of a spiral staircase smiled, missing its teeth. High up, presiding over it all was an empty stone throne before a stained-glass window, the design a sunburst behind mountains. How it had managed not to be shattered while everything else crumbled around it, I did not know. An ache started in my chest as I looked at it, like I was missing something I had never had. Like I was looking at a sad miracle.

Then, voices echoing, the sound of hurried footsteps on stone.

"Kiss me."

"Not here."

"Why not?"

Silently, I rounded a corner, clinging to the shadows. Down below, in a dusty shaft of light, Niro Runecleaver pressed Katyr into crumbling stairs. Niro kissed Katyr's neck, both half undressed.

Niro paused, breath heaving. "This place is sacred."

Katyr took his uncle's face in his hands, lifting it for a tender kiss. "So am I." He pushed his uncle to his knees on the dusty floor. "Worship me."

Niro did as he was told, worshipping with mouth and tongue. I blushed, but couldn't look away, not out of any lewd curiosity. It was because I had never seen two people so clearly in love who shouldn't be. It was wrong, and it was right. Anyone who saw them could see they were mad for each other, but knowing they were an uncle and his nephew… It wasn't my place to judge, nor did I, but the world would. It wasn't fair.

Katyr's head rolled back, his face flushed. When he opened his eyes and spotted me, they flared wide. He pushed his uncle's head away.

I spun on a heel and quickly navigated my way out of the ruin, head down.

I made it perhaps five yards before Katyr seized me and pressed a sharp dagger to my throat, holding me tightly from behind. Fingers closed tightly in my hair, jerking my head back.

"If you say anything to anyone about what you saw, human," he spat. "I won't just kill you. I'll maim you, make you such a horrific, broken thing that widows will wail when you pass by. Dogs will bark and children will cry. Your very name will become a dark curse on every pair of lips that has ever uttered it. They will curse the day you were born. Even the gods will turn away from you. Do you understand?"

I swallowed against the tip of the knife and nodded.

He released me and I spun, my hand going to my throat just over the collar.

Katyr held his dagger out at me. His face hardened. "You do not wish to have me as your enemy. What are you…" He recoiled as I grabbed his hand, frowned when he looked at me.

I couldn't speak, but I hoped the look would be enough to communicate what I was trying to say.

"He understands." Niro appeared at the exit to the ruin, looking only slightly disheveled. He walked up to place a hand on his nephew's shoulder, but he was looking at me. "Don't you, slave?"

I swallowed again and nodded. I lifted Katyr's hand to my forehead in a gesture I hoped would be enough to placate whatever distrust he had of me, then released him and backed away. He didn't follow me back to the encampment.

When I arrived there, everything was in a flurry. The riders who'd come under the white flag were gone, and all the commanders—save Katyr—had gone to the command tent. Though Ruith had sent me away, I slipped in anyway, clinging to the shadows until I found a spot out of the way to kneel.

The commanders were having a meeting on the other side of the tent wall, but their voices carried through easily enough.

"—would've gone better if Niro were here," Aryn was saying.

"There is no way it could've gone any worse," Ruith agreed. "Or better, really. We knew we had only limited time before he sent riders and told us to disband."

"We are three days' ride from the Krosika," Ieduin announced. "We're well outside the border where we should be expected to disband. How does Tarathiel even know where we are?"

Silence.

There was only one possible answer. If we were three days from the capital, and the capital was where Tarathiel was, word had reached him days ago about our presumed destination, probably about the time we arrived at the Runecleaver estate. They could have sent a fast rider, but even then, it hadn't been decided we would come to Godsfel until we left Rünhyll.

Someone in the camp was feeding information to Tarathiel, who likely was not as far away as everyone had assumed. Our spy, it seemed, was rather busy.

"If he marches on us now, we will lose," Aryn said plainly.

"Yes," Ruith agreed.

Ieduin said, "We need more men."

Papers rustled, the sound of something being rolled up. "Each of you is to summon your two best riders. Tonight, under cover of darkness, they will ride out, each pair bound for one of the clan strongholds to shore up support. I will send a rider with slaves and gifts to Tarathiel and assurances that we will disband once the Runecleavers make apologies. It will buy us a week, maybe two."

"Two weeks isn't enough time to bring together an army," Ieduin protested.

"You have your orders." Ruith's voice was clipped tight with irritation. He was not in the mood to be questioned. "Go."

The commanders exited the tent, some of them clearly more irritated than others. Ruith stepped out of the rear of the command tent and watched them go before his eyes fell on me. I had the feeling he was weighing a set of options, deciding on one quickly. He said nothing. Gave no orders, no insight to his thoughts, before he retreated into the rear of the tent, leaving me kneeling in place.

It was dark when I was roused from my sleep. Ruith hadn't spoken to me all day, nor had he come to bed. When he shook me awake, I barely recognized him. He was wearing the clothes of a common soldier, and a heavy cloak that obscured his face.

Ruith pressed a finger to his lips and passed me clothes that matched. "Quickly now. Don't make a sound."

If that was his idea of a joke, I didn't find it funny, but I did as I was told.

Rather than escort me through the tent door, Ruith opened the back of the tent and we slipped out into the night like common thieves. A pair of horses were waiting for us. Our faces hidden by the cloaks, we mounted, and I followed him as he rode out of the camp in silence.

Two things occurred to me as we left the camp behind. Firstly, there were eight other horses, if not more, riding out at the same time in different directions, under Ruith's orders. It was hard to tell if those other horses were decoys for our departure, or if Ruith was simply taking advantage of their leaving to cover our own. Either way, one thing was for certain. He did not want the rest of the camp knowing we had left.

Secondly, there was no reason I should be following him. I could turn the horse any way I wanted and simply ride away. There would be very little he could do to stop me. Of course, there were also very few—if any—safe places for me to hide on the Elven Isle. I'd instantly be recognized as a slave, and the punishment for fleeing would be swift and painful. Another twenty lashes, at least. But I didn't have to follow, and yet I did. Whether it was curiosity that drove me, or some misplaced sense of loyalty or codependency, I didn't know. I knew only that his horse led, and mine followed.