Page 21 of Kings Fear No One
“T-threatened,” I eke out. “By… by who?”
“You, Believer Teysha. I am sure she will find an excuse to punish you. Which is why you must behave yourself. Continue to be obedient and please me… and she may meet her end before you do.”
I rack my brain for how I’m supposed to respond to such a grim warning. He seems to think it’s supposed to make me feel better. Instead, I’m simply reminded of how horrible these people are. The Leader and his Saints. Mandy.
It’s as this fear threads through me that I make a mistake I shouldn’t.
“Believer Logan… will he be returning?” I murmur. “Mandy called upon him regularly. Maybe that is?—”
“If you should ever ask about him again, you will come to regret it,” the Leader snaps, grimacing. “Do not concern yourself with what happened to him. Concern yourself with pleasuring your leader. Me.”
The nod I give is a defeated one, my heart dying a little bit more inside my chest. I sit at his side for the rest of his meal, returning to my head, where I can search for comfort. In my prayers. In old memories.
But most of all, in the man who is my husband, who I hope comes back to me soon…
Logan’s still bruised and swollen when he returns from his stay at the infirmary. The others in the cabin avert their eyes so as not to be accused of staring. He’s hardened and grizzled when he steps through the door, more closed off than ever before. He strides to his bunkbed, picks up his rag and pair of workman boots, and he sets to cleaning.
No one dares address him.
I’m the only one who doesn’t resume what they were doing. I’ve sat up in my bunk, a breathlessness in my lungs.
He looks the same but so different.
Logan… but half shattered in pieces.
Blood-red and plum-purple bruises decorate his face. His lips haven’t finished closing up. The gash above his left eye still partially obstructs his vision.
Wounds he received after he took a beating trying to protect me.
An ache ebbs away inside my chest. I’m drawn to him and his pain. I’m consumed by a need to somehow ease it.
Logan scrubs harder at his cracked leather boots as if he doesn’t hear me walk up.
“Thank god you’re alright,” I mutter. “I was wor?—”
“Yeah, thank god. It might’ve turned out bad.”
His biting sarcasm makes me frown. “I didn’t mean to offend?—”
“The only thing that offended me was you thinking I wanted you to come over here.”
“Oh… I… okay…” I stammer out, completely confused. My skin prickles like I’ve been struck as I turn toward my bunk.
He’s… angry with me. He must blame me for what happened to him.
Over the next few days, every time I approach Logan, I’m met with scorn. I’m dismissed with hardly a glance. He sends me away like I hadn’t once sought safety in him. As if his words whispered into my ear hadn’t gotten me through things that would’ve otherwise broke me.
I’m a stranger to him. Worse than a stranger. Some kind of enemy.
“Logan, will you please look at me?”
I sound pitiful as I find him one evening behind the cabin. He’s filling up his canteen at the spigot. We’re far away from anyone else who might intervene.
He snaps the cap back onto his canteen and steps around me. His gaze falls anywhere but on me. I’m invisible as he pushes past and starts for the cabin.
“Why are you doing this to me?” I croak, following after him.
We round the corner of the cabin and almost collide with Xavier. He holds out a warning hand, his other clutching the rifle against his shoulder.
