Page 92 of Synodic

The red man grabbed hold of my shoulders and twisted me to face him. “It appears you have something she wants,” he said as the jarring motion sent a shockwave of pain from my head to my tailbone.

So Aliphoura wanted the abilities of the Alcreon Light? Well, she could get in line. They barely even appeared for me. “Tell her I said good luck,” I jeered, taking in his freckled face. The light spots dabbled across his narrow nose would be charming on anyone else, but not on this face, this face with its permanent scowl and soulless gaze. His dark, hooded eyes held a powerful fury just waiting to explode—a short fuse on a stick of dynamite.

“If anyone from the village is hurt, I swear to God I’ll kill you,” I said, sealing every word with a licking flame of promise.

He seemed unbothered as he scooped a gelatinous glob from the tin and brought his hand to my face. I jerked my chin away, repulsed.

“Don’t fight me. I’ll clean you up one way or the other,” he said, sinking his fingers deep into my jaw and aggressively wrenching me to face him. I stilled in his tight grip and winced as his other hand worked the substance into the cut on my cheek.

Red’s blunt fingertips moved to my torn mouth, slowly rubbing and tugging at my trembling lower lip. I wanted to bite and snap at his fingers, but I couldn’t deny the balm’s soothing effect on my split skin. I almost leaned into his touch, begging for more, hoping whatever medicinal substance he used would seep in and clear my pounding headache.

Squatting in front of me on his heels, he dropped his hands and stared at me expectantly, breathing tightly through thin nostrils.

I shifted under his stare and realized the cool, hard crystal of my blade still rested against my thigh. Its reassuring weight was a blessing in more ways than one. He hadn’t searched me, hadn’t trailed his hands along the skin of my unconscious body. I almost let out a sigh of relief, but Red eyed me warily.

“If you’re waiting for a thank you, you won’t be getting one anytime soon,” I said, trying to account for any minute changes he may have noted in my expression.

I needed to get the drop on him somehow to help my escape.

Feeling my full bladder, an idea struck me. “Untie me. And…and I’ll need some privacy.” Despite my ragged, vulnerable, and abused state, I spoke with all the dignity I could muster. I was covered in mud and grass strains from being violently dragged across the ground, the sleeve of my top had been torn off my shoulder, my head chain had been ripped from my head, along with several chunks of hair, and my skirt was torn all the way to my hip, revealing the lily-white flesh of my entire leg.

Thankfully not the leg that concealed my hidden blade, but still, my bareness had me nervous. And while I knew he would like to deliver me mostly untarnished, he could inflict injuries that were harder to see.

“Anything you need to do, you will do in front of me,” he said, dashing my hopes. I shuddered in disgust thinking of him watching me, even though he spoke in the most disinterested tone. He hadn’t glanced once at my exposed skin, and it eased me in part, knowing I was safe from him in that aspect at least. It created more room in my mind for clarity and careful planning.

“That will be a no then,” I said through gritted teeth.

He nodded with indifference, then returned the tin to his satchel and stood, the entire length of his body towering over me. Even though he wasn’t as wide as Rowen, he was taller, maybe by half a head, and his muscled reach was long, would be even longer if the ruby sword strapped across his back was in his hand.

Escaping him would be a challenge. He had managed to destroy a village, fight, kidnap, and subdue me, all without drawing his weapon. I would hate to see what he could accomplish with the sharp steel in his hand.

He gathered his satchel and straightened his red tunic with military precision. Everything about his strict appearance indicated that of a well-trained soldier, even down to his tightly cropped ginger hair and mission-driven focus. “This is as far as my abilities were able to take us. We walk the rest of the way.”

“I’m not walking anywhere with you,” I hissed.

He waited a moment, but when I refused to stand, he curled his long, slender fingers under the knot at my wrists and yanked me to my feet. The message was clear enough; he fully intended for me to walk with nothing to protect my feet, and who knew for how long.

I jerked against the rope, refusing to comply. “I’m barefoot.”

He released the sword between his shoulder blades and pulled me closer, ensuring I understood every meaning behind his lowered voice and pointed weapon. “I just cleaned up your pretty little face. I’d hate to have to mar it again before we make our destination. I would suggest making this as easy on yourself as possible, so keep your mouth shut and do as I say when I say it. My queen expects us by nightfall, and any delays from you will not go unpunished.”

His words sent warning flares all along my skin to fight, beat, and curse him. But my main goal at present was to keep him calm, ease him into a false sense of comfort. Now was not the time to fight.

So I’d be obedient.

For now.

The vengeful feline in me would bide her time, crouching low in the brush, hiding, studying, waiting for the right moment to strike.

Without another word, he turned from me and began deliberately walking towards the sunrise. I knew if I didn’t comply, he would likely drag me the rest of the way by my wrists.

So with panic welling in my gut and hope resting on my thigh, I took my first bound step.

34

The red man kept my leash taut as I walked behind him, preventing me from reaching for my knife, so I did what I could—I divided my mind in half.

I became a river of two flowing channels, one half preoccupied with keeping him talking, while the other formulated a plan of escape. He said his strange power was depleted, so I was at least safe from his dark traveling tunnels. Yet no matter how many times I played out the scenario in my head, succeeding always came down to one single variable—that I was faster than him.

---