Page 39 of Ruthless Monsters

The guard quickly falls into step beside me. “We’re under strict orders to keep you under watch.”

“Then keep watching,” I reply dryly. “I’m not hiding. I’mexploring.And your guard friend is still back at the room to report on the others.” I’m not sure if it’s because of my no-fucks-given expression, but after that he walks with me in blissful silence as we traverse the tunnels and make our way to the main cavern.

When we reach the rebel city, I don’t stop but walk straight into the crowd. Cursing, Waylen charges after me, determined not to lose me in the throng of rebels.

Chapter

Fifteen

~ Mason ~

My shoulders feel heavy as I cut through the streets, the hood of my cloak pulled down, shadowing my face. You’d think I’d be used to it by now. The crushing weight of expectation. For years, the other warriors in the prison had looked up to me. When they were on their knees at the point of breaking, they’d look to me for the strength to continue on. But now, as the rebels cry out to me, hope once more shining in their eyes, I withdraw further inside myself.

Defender of the realm.Whenever the name leaves their lips, something inside me cracks a little more. Most of these rebels weren’t on the battlefield during the war. They didn’t witness as our kind was slaughtered, bodies littering the ground as the witches laid waste to the strongest of us. Only a few of the warriors who were imprisoned alongside me heard the cries as our light was snuffed out, our once mighty kingdom falling into darkness.

I had thought it was over. As my most loyal warriors and friends were cut down before me, I’d surrendered to defeat. But then he had come.Celzar.With a power he was not born with, he had struck back, saving my life and countless others. He drove the witches from our land for long enough that we could escape to the safe haven he created. Well, that was what he called it anyway.The Haven.

But it was merely a prison. I couldn’t save us from the witches or from my brother. My parents and our other relatives never received an invitation to the new city. Whether they were slaughtered by the witches or by Celzar it did not matter. Perstalia as we knew it had been destroyed, and we were all that was left to wallow in the ashes.

And now, the rebels look to me once again, just like they had when the witches first came to our land. Just as they did before I failed them. Even now that I’m washed and dressed in clean clothes, looking less like a prisoner and more like the prince again, I feel like merely a shadow of the male I had once been.

I think of the bed waiting for me high up on the cavern wall. Eliza had been trying to acquire me a house in the city, but I’d made it clear that no one was to relocate because of me. A small room would be more than sufficient, and even as I tell myself I must go and rest, the bone-weary exhaustion so deep it’s an effort to stand, I shudder at the thought of spending a single night on the plush bed they’re offering. After countless years of sharing a cell with multiple others, I know only nightmares await me there. Or should I call them memories?

I slip down another street with the intent to head into the tunnels on my left, when I spot Waylen standing sentry beside a water trough. His posture is awkward, and he fidgets with the hilt of his sword nervously as he scans the area.Now, what are you up to? You’re supposed to be guarding the newcomers.

I pause, ducking behind a merchant’s stall, and that’s when I see her. The female with the long dark waves stands a short distance from the guard, her golden eyes alight with wonder as she observes the city around her. Blake. That’s what my new friends from the prison had called her. She’s a marvel with high cheekbones and sensuous lips, but it’s the lethal grace to which she moves that always captures my attention. Most wouldn’t notice it, but even without a weapon in her hands, I see the strength in her movements and the confidence in her gaze.

My new male friends had called her their mate, and while I can’t be certain the claim is true, it hadn’t escaped my notice how all four of them arranged themselves around her during our escape. Whether they’re doing it intentionally or subconsciously, I can’t tell, because half the time two of the males look like they hate her as much as they want to be close to her. Not that I can blame them for the latter part. I, myself, find her alluring, even from a distance. And up close, I can taste hints of her suppressed power. It's no wonder she caught Celzar’s attention.

All Perstalian royals can sense the power of others, but Celzar is the only one who can take that power for himself. Our parents had always thought he was powerless—the only Perstalian royal without magic—and because of this, their relationship had been strained. When they’d announced our sister, Nerelia, would rule rather than Celzar, my brother was inconsolable. In the days that followed, it was discovered that he poisoned one of our cousins, and though no one truly understood the motivation behind the murder, my brother was banished from our kingdom. No one knew, that in a way, the reaches of his power far surpassed our own, and that his return would result in our ruin.

I wonder how mad Celzar must be now that he’s lost his latest betrothed, Blake, and then I think of her mates again. Allfourof them. It is an uncommon number for Perstalians. My kind have fated mates just as hers do, though the connection is extremelyrare, and some don’t believe in it at all. Most pair up simply for convenience, or to follow a mutual affection or attraction not determined by fate. But if I had a fated mate, I suspect I wouldn’t want to let her out of my sight. Certainly, not so soon after having been separated from her.So why is she out here alone?

I watch in surprise as Blake approaches a large Pecos bird without fear. The creature is strapped to a metal cart and is busy pecking at seeds scattered about its feet while its owner chats to a merchant. It’s clear the owner notices Blake, but he continues his conversation while watching her from the corner of his eye, uncertain on how to handle the unusual intrusion. Little has been said about the newcomers who arrived with the rest of us prisoners. Some have already deemed them our new saviors, convinced that they are new foreign warriors who will fight by my side. Others are wary.

In either case, their presence has made the idea of battle against my brother a little more complicated.

Letting out a long exhale, I force myself to stop thinking about the needs of my kind for a moment, and simply observe the female instead. I’m surprised when the Pecos bird doesn’t startle when she approaches. Instead, it lifts its large head and stares at her inquisitively, then it stretches out its neck in invitation. Smiling, she reaches forward, stroking its smooth rainbow scales.

I move from the shadows, striding into view. “They’re not usually the friendliest of birds,” I tell her, and she doesn’t look the least bit startled when she peers over at me. Her hands glide down the creature’s scales, stroking with confidence, even as the bird stares warily at me.

“It’s well known they often only let their owners touch them,” I go on to explain, stopping a short distance away from the creature.

Waylen’s face blanches at the sight of me, like he thinks he’s about to be reprimanded for letting our new friend wander the streets, but he doesn’t need to worry.

Blake grins. “Is that why you’re standing all the way over there?”

“I give respect where it is due,” I reply simply.

She thinks on that, lines creasing between her brows.

The bird’s owner bows his head to me. “Defender,” he whispers with reverence, and I have to stop myself from reacting to his comment, the wound inside me growing a little bigger. The moment the name leaves his mouth, others around us turn toward me, peering at the face beneath the hood and whispering the same thing.

Blake studies me, concern flashing on her face before her lips stretch into another grin. “And here I thought your name was Mason,” she says, speaking louder than before, and when the voices around us hush to hear her speak, I wonder if she did it for my benefit.

The hint of a smile teases my lips. “It is,” I confirm. “Can I not have many names?”

“I guess it depends if all of the names are true,” she replies, and her attention goes back to the bird again. Before I can warn her against it, she reaches down and takes a handful of the bird’s seeds. I tense, ready to intervene if the bird reacts aggressively to the intrusion, but the creature merely continues eating as she shoves the seeds into her pocket.Well, that was highly unexpected.

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