Chapter 11
Tara
We've been traveling for three days and few people have talked to me, outside of the servants who tend to my needs on our very brief stops. It's strange. I was expecting cruelty. I was expecting some kind of attack. Instead, they're just keeping an eye on me, usually from a distance.
And also like they'd rather be completely sleep-deprived than stay on witch lands for a second more than they have to.
I should be happy, but I feel like I'm being kept in a constant state of fear. I have no idea what to expect. These shifters could turn on me at any moment, so I just have to be ready at all times.
The sky darkens overhead. I look up to see the mountains towering over us. I've never been this close to the mountains that surround the Witch Kingdom. But I've heard a lot of stories about how much more dangerous it is to live near these mountains, near the Shifter Kingdom.
A shiver rolls down my spine, and I rub my hands on my arms. There's murmuring from the men on horses in front of me, but I can't tell what they're saying, only that they're uneasy.
My back's rigid. Time ticks away. I don't close the curtain, but I also don't lean out. The last thing I want is for the shifters to know that I'm on alert.
I might be safer if they think I'm a dumb witch.
Time continues to pass. I don't know how long. The smell and feel of metal fills the air around me. It's a sensation I've never felt before, but I sense it so strongly that it's hard to catch my breath. Visions of daggers and spears and swords swim in my mind like ghostly presences.
A sword of strength.
A blade of boldness.
A spear of sacrifice.
The weapons call out to me, begging to be mined, bent, and forged.
Make me. Forge me.
My magic tingles, wanting to be released. Wanting to see what it can do. I almost allow it. Almost test it. The mountains hold metal like nothing I've felt before, but this isn't the time, no matter how much I might wish it was
The carriage jolts to a stop, and I nearly fall off my seat. I look out the window again and realize there are massive mountains standing on either side of the road we're on. How is that possible? Where the hell are we? Just a short time before the mountains were only on one side…
I stick my head out of the window and look up. The mountains are huge. All my life I'd seen them from a distance, but it was nothing like this. Right now, I can't even see the top of them. I've never felt so small in my life.
Sitting back down, I wonder if I have to wait for someone to let me out. That's been the process so far for all our little breaks, but I'm itching to get out of this damn carriage. So if someone doesn't let me out soon, I'm running for it.
Before I have time to think about the wisdom of my plan, the carriage door opens, and I eagerly spring to my feet, catching the hand that's offered. Only, my skirts tangle around me as I try to run out, and I come flying out the carriage door.
Before I can hit the ground, strong arms are around me. I pull my face out of the chest I'm buried in and find Prince Rinan staring at me. His light blue eyes are filled with surprise, but also an edge of embarrassment.
"Uh, sorry," I murmur.
To my surprise, his mouth lifts into an almost-smile. "It's okay. I'm used to pretty women throwing themselves at me."
His banter is unexpected, but I'm glad for something other than grumpily muttered comments. "I believe it with those pretty-boy looks. You'd be popular back at the castle."
He pulls me forward enough so my feet leave the carriage floor, but then doesn't put me down. He just keeps me a foot from the ground in his arms. Butterflies float through my stomach, and I like his show of strength more than I care to admit.
"Pretty boy? You think I'm a pretty boy?" His gaze is searching my face for something, but I'm not sure what.
"I can't be the first one to tell you that, right? Unless… are most shifters blind? Or do they like their men big and hairy with fangs and one pus-filled eye?"
He stares.
I stare back.
"You don't know much about shifters, do you?"
I'd shrug my shoulders if I could in such an awkward position. "I know you're all big and kind of grumpy." My gaze moves around the area to the other shifters moving about. "I mean, is everything about you guys big?"
Their houses. Their horses. Their castles. It's all got to be big, right?
A little growl slips past his lips.
My gaze jerks back to him.
"Don't look at them," he says almost under his breath.
I lift a brow. He's upset, but I have no idea why. "You don't like me wondering how big they are?"
His eyes narrow. "No. Keep your focus on how big I am."
Weird. But this is no time to rock the boat. "Okay, well, you are a big fella. I mean, you don't even seem tired carrying me like this."
Some of his anger fades away. "You're not heavy. At all. I could carry you all day."
"Probably all night too."
His entire body stiffens.
What did I say now?
"If you get bored, we should try it and see how long you can last."
Very slowly, he slides me to the ground. And it's strange how much I like my body rubbing gently against his. It sends goosebumps racing across my skin, and makes my body feel warm and uncomfortable.
"You should stretch your legs. We'll be moving again soon."
I nod, my mind turning over anything that could get us to continue talking. "Maybe I should make a new game where I can see how long your men can pick me up."
A low growl rolls from his throat. It's animalistic. Not at all what I'd expect from a man. "Not a fucking chance."
Okay, so he doesn't like games."Got it."
He turns and marches away, and I get the feeling I've pissed him off somehow. How? I have no clue.
Prince Arlys is suddenly in front of me. He hasn't shaved in the past three days, at least I don't think he has, so now his clean face has a scruff of a beard. His jet-black hair is also wavy and wild, like the wind has been threading her fingers through his hair all day. I like the look. He feels like something wild and untamed and beautiful all at once.
My cheeks heat, and I attempt a smile, fighting through the butterflies in my stomach.
"We're stopping for a short break to take care of personal needs, eat, and rest," he grumbles, then turns to leave.
"Is this the pace we'll keep until we reach wherever we're going?" I ask, the words tumbling out of my mouth in an attempt to make him stop and talk to me for even a moment.
He glances back at me, those incredible green eyes of him seeming to peer through me. "No, we'll slow a bit when we reach shifter territory."
"Do you guys really think the witches would go through all the trouble of making a peace treaty with you only to kill you on your way home?" I kind of wish I didn't ask the question, but now it's hanging between us.
He gives me a strange look. "Witches have done a hell of a lot worse."
Fair enough."And when we get wherever we're going, will you, Prince Drogo, and Prince Rinan stay together? Or do you intend to go back to your respective courts?"
"We'll stay together," he says, and I can tell he's wondering where I'm going with all of this.
I take a step toward him. "I'm just trying to get a sense of what my life is going to be like." To my surprise, the words come out softer and sadder than I planned.
Something unreadable flickers in his eyes.
My stomach knots up. "Will I be safe there?" May as well just ask.
To my surprise, he walks back toward me, closing the space between us. He lowers his head so that I imagine he intends to whisper in my ear, and I lean up to hear whatever he's about to say. But instead of speaking, he inhales sharply, then takes several slow, deep breaths.
The hair on my body stands on end, and I shiver. I don't know why being smelled feels so intimate, but it does. I take a deep breath too and imagine he smells like pine trees and a roaring fire.
Then, he jerks back and takes a full step backwards, looking at me with so much suspicion that it makes my heart ache. "Take care of your personal needs, we'll be traveling again soon." With that, he turns on his heel and strides away, leaving me feeling confused, and for some reason, vulnerable.
Something about these three men is different from any men I've met before. It must be that they're shifters. But it's like they make my stomach feel hollow and empty at the same time. I'm scared to see them, and I want to see them all at once.
If I didn't know better, I'd think it was magic.
I scan the group of shifters for my other husbands. That'll never sound normal. I spot Prince Drogo, but when he catches my gaze, he bares his teeth and quickly strides away, getting lost in the crowd of shifters milling around.
"Hello to you too," I mumble to myself.
A servant silently places a plate of food in my hand.
"Thank you," I say, staring down at some cheese, bread, and jerky. "Looks good."
He gives me a funny look. Probably because it's the same thing we've had every day.
I shrug. "Food is food."
He gives a little bow and hurries away, like I'm contagious. Not that I blame him. If the princes want me dead, everyone here probably knows to stay far away from me.
I hold the plate with one hand and walk around while I eat. I have no idea where we are until I see the bones and swords scattered along the road. Freezing, I stare around in shock. It's the Deadly Passage.
My stomach turns, and my appetite flees. Of course this is where we are. We have to go this way to get to shifter territory. I should have thought about it.
Every witch knows about the Deadly Passage. Our history books are full of accounts of it. They tell tales of it to even the littlest witches, tales about the deadly battles that have been waged in this space as shifters try to use the passage to enter our lands. They have no choice, since it's the only way they can enter our territory.
The ground is dark too. Abnormally dark, and spreading in all directions. It's only when I stumble on a rock that I notice the ground is actually a brownish-red, probably from the blood spilled here. I guess it's called the Deadly Passage for a reason.
"Finished?" the servant asks, pointing to my food.
I force myself to scarf a few more unladylike bites before I hand him the plate. I'm not really hungry – how can I be here? – but there's no snacking in the carriage. It's just riding until the next stop, where we eat and rest again.
My gaze goes back to the blood-stained ground.
"Probably witch blood."
I jump and spin around to find Prince Drogo right behind me. My heart races, filling my ears. How are these damn shifters so quiet?
The way he lifts his brow only makes my blood pump faster. "Our people are better fighters. Your people are fucking cowards who hide in the shadows and attack."
I frown, not sure what he expects me to say. "Okay."
His eyes flash with rage. "Okay? Nothing about what your people do is okay."
I get the feeling he's looking for a fight. Surprisingly, or I guess not so surprisingly, I'm good with dealing with bullies. Or at least good at making sure they don't chip away at my soul too much. "It sounds like you have some issues with witches, but that's not too surprising given that we've been fighting for longer than you've been alive," I tell him calmly.
His eyes narrow. "I know what you're doing."
I hold his eye contact. "What am I doing?"
He moves closer, anger radiating through him. "You're pretending to be all sweet and innocent, so no one sees the she-demon hidden inside of you."
I tilt my head. "I always thought it was so interesting that some people call monsters demons and others call them monsters. Yet, we all have a name for them."
He stares and takes a long moment to respond. "You have nothing to say about the fact that I see through your tricks?"
Leaning closer to him, I watch as he inhales deeply. "You and I both know that no matter what I say, you're not going to believe me, because you don't like me. But if it helps, not many people have good things to say about me, so if you have something awful to say, chances are I've already heard it before. If that doesn't help, continue to say whatever you want, as long as it makes you feel better."
When I glance up into his dark eyes, the anger has eased a little. He's regarding me like my own people did. Like he doesn't quite like me, but I make him uncomfortable at the same time. It's not how I wanted my future husband to look at me, but it's better than the hatred.
"I don't trust you," he says, like it's an insult.
"Understood. Trust, like love, is earned."
"No, that's not what I…" He shakes his head. "Whatever."
But instead of pulling away, he lingers, just a handspan between us. His muscles seem to tense and swell. My gaze snaps back to his dark eyes, and he's doing that thing again, where I think he's breathing in my scent.
"Is it me?" I ask.
He blinks, looking confused. "What?"
"All of you seem to like smelling me a lot. So, is it me? Or do you guys do that with everyone?"
He shifts back from me, shaking his head. "We don't." Then he spins on his heel and rushes away.
What the hell? I don't understand any of my husbands, but Prince Drogo probably most of all. He radiates anger and seems to want to pick fights with me, yet we're married. Shouldn't he be trying to get along with me at least?
Heading away from the shifters, I continue along the passage, needing a break from the testosterone. The further I walk, the more carnage I see. There are bones and bodies in various states of decomposition, although none too recent. Most look like someone covered them, but then animals, or time, uncovered them once more.
A chill rolls down my spine. So much death.
Looking away from the bodies, I stare at the sides of the mountain. To my surprise, there are glints of steel as far as the eye can see. And the weapons, so many weapons, call out to me. There's so much metal begging to be repurposed and beautiful again.
After a little while, I come across an absolutely destroyed carriage. It's ripped to shreds. But no normal animal did that.
My heart races. Are my husbands capable of that? I wonder how lethal they are. And how they look when they shift. Probably exactly as awful as I'm imagining.
I shake my head and keep walking. More carriages and bodies litter the path. I come across a skeleton with a sword sticking through its chest and peer down at it. Whoever this is is no longer recognizable, but I can see where her blood still stains the ground.
Although, I don't know that it's a woman or a witch. I'm just assuming. Technically, shifters use both sword and claw in battle, but our men go to battle with swords too in order to protect the women while they use magic, so it could be a man or woman. Either way, it's sad.
The Deadly Passage is the saddest gravesite I've ever seen. All these people died here with no burial, no glory, no honor, just a bitter end and the disrespect of their bodies decomposing in broad daylight for passersby to gawk at.
This peace treaty I've been traded for needs to work because this can't keep going on. People can't keep dying over a fight we don't even understand. The purpose of this rivalry was forgotten a long time ago, though both sides were just too used to fighting each other to stop.
Is this what I was sold for? Maybe my mother was right. Maybe it'll be worth it.
I close my eyes and try to tune out everything, trying to regain my composure, but my awareness of the metal breaks through. It's all around me. It pleads with me to renew it. The metal has a purpose. It's not meant to be marred and bloody, rusting and broken.
Please, it whispers to me.
Shape us. Bend us. Change us. Make us.
The voices are overwhelming. I pull in a sharp, shuddering breath. My magic wells up inside of me, and I have to get it out; I have to create.
What do you want to be?I ask, and the words in my mind hum with magic.
My hands begin to move. Pulling and finding. Heating and melting. Moving and changing. My hands swirl in circles, over and over again. I focus my energy, knowing the metal won't be content until it becomes what it's meant to be.
My arms grow tired, but it has to be perfect, so I take my time. Next are the straight lines. I don't know what I"m making, but my body and my magic do what the metal requests. My arms slash sharp lines up and down. The heat fades. The metal settles.
There.
My magic feels so strong, more powerful than I've ever known it to be. My arms fall to my side, and my magic recedes. The world around me is silent. The metal is silent. I open my eyes and see what I created, and my jaw drops.
I expected a sword. Maybe several swords. Not this.
It's a towering sculpture of metal. Three interlocking triangles encompassed in a large circle stands before me. It's easily bigger than the carriage I've been riding. It's been melted into the wall of the mountain, fused with the stones.
My breath hitches at the sight of it. My magic made that. It answered the metal's call and made something so strange and beautiful.
"What the fuck?" someone gasps behind me.
I whip around and see Prince Arlys, Prince Drogo, and Prince Rinan standing behind me. Their jaws are hanging open as they stare at my creation. Fear awakens within me. Shifters don't like magic and they don't like witches, so chances are they won't like this.
"What did you do?" Prince Arlys asks, not taking his eyes from the sculpture. But his words aren't quite an accusation, they're something I can't read.
For a minute, I'm not sure if I should lie, but I decide that it's better to be honest. I guess I'll see what kind of men I've married now. "I listened to the metal. I don't know what that shape is, but it's what the metal wanted to be."
I still don't know if he's upset. I think his face just always looks a little angry or tense. Or maybe I'm completely wrong and things are about to go very wrong.
Prince Rinan steps closer, running his hands along one side of the sculpture with his eyes wide. "I can't believe it."
The blond sounds shocked. Did I do something wrong? "Like I said, I don't know what it is."
His gaze meets mine, and I'm lost in his blue eyes for a moment. "This is a Valknut," he says, as he walks around the sculpture, breaking our eye contact. "The Valknut is a symbol for the dead who die in battle. You've just made a monument to all shifters who've died here."
To my surprise, his fingers begin to trace the little etchings that cover the surface of the entire symbol.
"Drogo!" Prince Rinan says, pointing to something on the Valknut.
The big man comes around the side of the symbol to where Prince Rinan stands. His gaze falls on wherever Prince Rinan is pointing, and his eyes go wide.
Prince Drogo's body seems to swell. "How did you know their names?" And he's angry. Really angry.
"Whose names?" I ask, trying to keep my voice soft, trying to show him that I'm not looking for a fight.
"The names of the dead…" He pauses to read a few. "Their names are on here. So many of them."
I tense, looking at the names etched into it. Each weapon seems to have requested the name of their perished wielder to be engraved. There's probably a thousand names on it.
"How did you get them? Their names?" Prince Rinan asks, his voice overwhelmed with emotion.
I release a slow breath, hoping I'm not making a mistake by telling the truth. "The metal told me the names of the men who wielded them."
Prince Drogo shakes his head, anger and sorrow twisting his expression. "What kind of bullshit answer is that? Metal has no voice. It's more likely you helped kill these men."
My gaze holds his. "And I asked all their names before I did so?"
His gaze flickers away from me and back to the symbol. Yeah, that's right. You feel like an ass, because you sounded like an ass.
His attention returns to the memorial. He rubs his face, then reaches out and touches the symbol, and the look on his face makes me want to reach out and touch him. I've never seen him look vulnerable before, but whosever name is troubling him, he seems like a man barely keeping control of his emotions.
Prince Arlys moves to Prince Drogo's side and grips his shoulder. Prince Rinan does the same. All three men seem to be overwhelmed with emotions.
I start to feel uneasy, like I'm crashing a funeral for someone I don't know.
Turning, I start walking back to the carriage.
Someone grabs my arm roughly and hauls me against him. I look up in shock to see Prince Drogo's dark brown eyes glaring down at me. I open my mouth to speak, but he cuts me off. "I know what you're doing."
"I'm not doing anything," I say, heart racing.
He leans in so close that his mouth nearly touches mine. "Be careful, witch, or you'll regret it."
And when he lets me go, I eagerly scurry away. Great, just great. I've already screwed up.