Page 48 of A Lick of Flame

We are riding hard. Orion is flush against my back with his arms around me, gripping the reins.

“Is it them?” I ask.

“Yes, it’s one of the tribes,” he says, but that’s not what sends shivers down my spine.

Orion.

Ethan called him Orion instead of Dante. It should have been Dante. How did Ethan know to call him that?

I don’t have much time to think about it because, for the second time in one night, we are surrounded. This time, Orion keeps me from falling by splaying his big hand across my stomach.

I am roughly yanked from the saddle and a sack is pulled over my head. I know that Orion puts up a fight because I hear the sound of a scuffle. My hands are bound behind my back. No one says a word, so I have no idea who has us. I’m inclined to think it’s the tribesmen. I’m not sure which group would be the worst. From the sounds of things, the tribes are ruthless, bloodthirsty killers.

19

Orion

I don’t struggle as my hands are bound behind my back. The sack makes it impossible for me to see anything, but at least I can breathe easily through the fabric.

On the one hand, I am glad we are away from Ethan and his group of thugs, but on the other, I am more fearful for our lives than ever before. At least the tribesman won’t rape Maya. They have far more honor than that. If they wanted us dead, we would be, which means that we are in with a chance. I need to plan another escape. For now, I will make myself as unassuming as possible and bide my time until we can escape. There will be an opportunity, even if I have to create one myself.

One of the tribesmen helps me onto a horse, and we start at a steady lope.

“Maya!” I shout, hoping we’re not being separated.

“I’m here.” Her voice is muffled but close by.

I heave a sigh of relief.

“No talk. No word you make,” a tribesman yells in broken English.

My heart beats a little less fast, knowing that she is close by. I will my body to relax, to move in time with my horse, who has a choppy gait. He is a gelding named something I can’t pronounce. He does not like carrying my weight, which is heavy in comparison to the much smaller tribesmen he normally carries, but he will do his job without question.

By now, I have accepted that my magic comes and goes without rhyme or reason. It is still too inconsistent to be able to use it in any real capacity, at least when it comes to the controlling of beasts. I somehow managed to make those horses rear earlier, but when I tried it before, it didn’t work at all. It’s infuriating.

We ride in absolute silence for what feels like an age. My thighs start to burn, and my lower back begins to ache. It takes a lot of effort to ride with my hands tied behind my back. I’m using muscles I never knew I had. At least the long ride gives me time to think.

I knew it!

Ethan knows who I am. He called me by my name, even though I never gave it to him. He has made a deal with someone to exchange me for gold coin. If not my people, then who wants me so badly? Who would be willing to go to so much trouble?

My people no longer believe in my existence. If they did, they would kill me outright for abandoning them; they certainly wouldn’t pay for my safe return. Snow would want me dead, as well. I’m a thorn in her side. She might pay assassins for my head, not mercenaries to bring me in. The instruction was that I was not to be harmed. Who wants me alive? How do they know of my return? It’s puzzling.

I sense the new group of oncoming horses before I hear them stomping and snorting. There is the sound of talking and laughter, too. I’m shocked when I realize it’s English instead of the native tongue of our captors. The men we are riding toward are not more tribesmen.

“You found him, Fish?” someone says in a jolly voice that I recognize instantly. My mind prickles, trying to place it.

“Yes, I find. You give gold now,” one of the tribesmen says in a gruff voice.

“Hold on, good fella.” The man laughs, and my mind prickles again. I know him. I know him well. My time in the fighting pits has dulled my memory from before. From when I was a mercenary. It’s someone I knew from back then…I’m sure of it. I can’t place him. I know I’m going to kick myself when I see his face.

“You’re sure he’s a fae and that he’s the right one?” the man asks.

“Sure! Yes,” the same gruff man answers. “Everyone want him…fight for him.”

“Let’s double-check to be sure, shall we?”

The tribesman grunts in response, and I am pulled from the saddle, somehow managing to find my feet instead of landing on my ass.

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