Page 9 of Glass and Bone
Hovering above me is the face of a man I do not know. His black cloak assists the darkness in covering the majority of his features, but his tan skin shines through revealing a pointed nose and dimpled chin. I search his cloak for an emblem, anything to provide insight into what kingdom he belongs to, but it is just as bare as my legs. I pull my dress down, from where it has gathered around my thighs as his sickening smile causes my heart to race. My mind wanders as I process the vile things I’m sure he has planned for me.
He kicks my legs apart and I struggle to scoot away from him. The rocks are digging into my palms and back as I try to pull my body out of his grasp. He kneels down in between my legs, and I feel a sharp pain in my thigh. I can’t fight the scream forming on my lips as it echoes throughout the woods, tears instantly running down my cheeks. Glancing down I see the tip of a dagger pressing deep into my flesh, and I still. I watch as it slides further into my skin. I bite my lip to hold back the screams of pain. Blood falls down the side of my leg like a waterfall and I question whether or not he hit an artery.
“Please leave me be.” I whisper, not wanting to raise my voice, as I was sure the lump in my throat would prevent it. A low growl escapes his lips as he leans down, his body weight pushing my back against the hard ground. One hand grips the earth right next to my face, the other slides the dagger up my body until it rests at the hollow of my neck. I swallow and feel the edge press ever so slightly, breaking through the delicate skin. The warmth of my blood dripping down the side of my thigh is a stark contrast to the icy air and I shudder, pain radiating down my leg.
“Where is the fun in that?” He chuckles. His voice is deep, and rough. His accent is thick, and not one I can place. Maybe a northerner? He smells of ash and brimstone. Like death and fire.
“Who are you?” I ask again, my eyes fixate on his, a deep brown that is almost black. His face is older, maybe the same age as my father. The lack of scars on his tan skin gives me an inkling that he may be of a noble line, one that hasn’t required his services in war. His dirty and rumpled clothing is an indication that he hasn’t showered in a few days. That and the slight musky scent filling my nose. Enough to make me want to gag.
“My identity is none of your concern,princess.” His eyes focus on mine as I see the desire filling his brain. He searches my face, looking for a reaction as his teeth clamp down onto his bottom lip.
“You know who I am?” I croak in shock, again, my voice failing me. My breathing is ragged as I try to stay strong, trying to ignore the blinding pain coming from my thigh. Trying to ignore the feel of his legs against mine, the hollow pit in my stomach that is filling with bile and nausea. He nods as his eyes trail back down my chest, stomach, and then my bare thighs. I already know his plans. “Please don’t do this. Just let me go.” I plead, desperation fueling my emotion-choked voice. “I have money, I can pay you well. Just let me go.”
My father warned me as a child of the predators in the forest who belong to no kingdom and answer to no man. I didn’t believe him at first, I thought he was just trying to scare me into submission. That he was trying to prevent me from leaving the confines of the castle. But now I see that he may have been telling the truth. He must be one of them. He might have others coming to his aid, or hiding behind the trees where I can’t see them. That thought only makes my heart race faster.
“Your money is not what I want.” He whispers as I feel something hard pressing against my leg, something that feelssofterthan the blade.Oh gods.He shoves the dagger into his waistband, his fingers brush my neck and then follow the same course his eyes previously did, only stopping once it reached the spot between my abdomen and his goal. I shiver against his touch, against the feel of his fingers sliding in between my breasts down to my navel. His eyes fill with excitement as he licks his lips, a small groan rumbling in his throat. Gripping the edge of my dress with his hand, I can hear the sound of the fabric ripping as he sharply pulls it away from my body.
“Why are you doing this? Please.” I cry out, attempting to stall him as much as possible while a plan forms inside my scattered brain. My hands are pushing against his chest in an attempt to get him off of me, but his weight is too much. Tears spring from my eyes, trailing down the sides of my face as I struggle to break free, my thigh cramping with every movement.
“I’ve never had a princess before.” He whispers as his hand progresses down towards a place no man has ever been before. I freeze as his fingers touch me, torture me. His fingers find the place no one has ventured. The place I have been so careful to safeguard. I shut my eyes as I try to think of any way I can get out of this, any way I can end this before it has a chance to progress.I’m going to have to fight.I open my eyes again and quickly glance at the dagger in his waistband. I won’t have the time to grab it, but I may not have any other options, not if I want to get out of this alive. His eyes watch mine, almost like he’s daring me to move.
The second I do, his free hand reaches for my neck, gripping it with all his strength. Feeling the crush of my throat against his fingers, I struggle to breathe. I scratch at any part of his skin I come in contact with, looking for anything to make him stop, desperation and panic fueling my search. I feel my nails slicing through his hands, drawing blood. He shifts above me, the sound of his pants sliding down, and I fight to look away as I don’t want to see what happens next. He holds my head in place with his grip on my neck, forcing me to look at him, my hands wrapped around his wrist. There is nothing I can do to stop him.
“Please don’t do this.” I cough out as the grip on my neck tightens, begging for him to spare me. Begging in a way that I always promised myself I wouldn't. “Please.”
“Stay still. I’ll make it quick.” He groans as he rips what's left of my underwear off, the cotton disappearing on the dark forest floor.
This is it. This is the end. This is the easy way out. This is my chance to be free. If he just kills me–
“Jeremiah!” Another male voice breaks through the trees as the man above me stills and I jump from the volume.
“Please! Please help me!” I cry out, struggling against my captor who is effortlessly holding me to the ground. The man breaks through the trees and makes his way towards us. He’s wearing the same cloak as the other man, with nothing identifying his house. They are working together, but maybe he has something against these actions, maybe he’ll help. Or maybe he’ll do worse, but I take my chances. Relief blossoms, breaking through the fear as I hope I am seconds away from being saved. “Please, Ser!” I cry out and kick at the frozen man on top of me. He stomps over, his face hidden in the darkness.
“Quiet!” The other man snaps in irritation as his foot slams into the side of my head. Darkness is all I see.
Chapter Five
I can feel my head rocking up and down as he carries me, each jostle sending shooting pain throughout my skull. My arms are dangling down his back, his hand firmly holding onto my thighs to balance me over his shoulder. My eyes open slightly, and I see the forest floor softly illuminated from the moonlight. I can feel the sharp, aching pain the boot left behind as it creeps up the side of my temple and behind my eyes. Small droplets of blood flinging from my face, disappearing into the black dirt below. My thigh is numb, as if it has been soaking in an ice bath. It makes me wonder if there is damage to a nerve, I can only hope that isn’t the case. The overwhelming scent of ash and sweat fills my nose, making me want to gag, but I swallow it down.
The second man called my attacker Jeremiah. The only reason they let me know their true identity is probably because they are going to kill me, or make sure I never return to civilization. Either that, or they are stupid. I am desperately hoping for the latter. Fear that should be coursing through my veins is dormant, hiding. I feel numb, empty. I have no fight. I have no way to protect myself. I have a sour taste in my mouth, my pulse rivaling the lump for space in my throat. Is this what defeat feels like? Helplessness?
I’ve never learned to defend myself; I can’t stand my own against one male, much less two. Being helpless has become a personality trait. I have never been given the chance to fight, against my father, against female oppression, and now against them. I used to watch the guardsmen train, their bodies slick with sweat as they clash swords and connect fists to skin. I could almost taste the adrenaline, the desire. Not for the men, but for the power that came with having the ability to defend oneself. I used to practice in my room, punching the air or pillows I strapped to the backs of chairs, but I knew I wasn’t doing it right. I was weak, nothing more than an annoyance, rather than a threat. And these men know that. They know the only chance I have to defend myself is dependent on luck, and that isn’t something that has ever been on my side.
They are both quiet as they move through the forest with ease, as if they could see through the suffocating darkness. I have no idea where they are taking me or what their plans are. Are they going to just outright kill me? Are they going to allow each other to have some fun prior? Am I going to be held for ransom? What is their end goal? While I may not be able to physically defend myself, I am not above testing my psychological skills. Maybe I canconvincethem to let me go. Convince them that I am better alive than dead. If they can get money and riches, or even some other political advantage with my release, it might be worth it for them. Ithasto be worth it.
I can’t tell how long we’ve been walking, or in what direction, as they murmur to themselves. Time seems to be moving at an unnatural pace, with this night seemingly lasting forever. Their footsteps are even, but Jeremiah is clearly breathing heavy, straining against my weight. I only wish I had gained a few pounds prior, maybe then he wouldn’t be able to traipse around with me on his shoulder. I force my breath to remain even, hoping my pulse quiets down enough so I can hear them over the pounding in my ears.
“It was too easy.” Jeremiah chuckles. I can feel his laugh vibrate through my body as he adjusts me with a groan. I only hope he tires at some point, maybe then I’ll have a better chance.
“Are you sure it’s her? The king has brown hair, hers seems too dark.” The other one speaks, his voice lacking the hint of exhaustion that Jeremiah has. They are silent for a moment; the only sounds are their footsteps on the forest floor and the pounding of my pulse. “Do you remember what her mother looked like?”
“No, I don’t, but this girl had a carriage full of luggage and was arriving the same day they said she would. There is no way it couldn’t be her.” His fingers tighten on my thighs as he speaks, making me nauseous.
I bite the inside of my cheek. I want to rip every finger off his damn hands.
“She could be a diversion; she could be someone sent in her place.” If I hadn’t already confirmed my identity to Jeremiah, I might have had a chance at lying. I need to find something else I can barter, maybe I can convince them to take me to a different country, one I could start a new life in. I could disappear, I don’t have to be the princess. Whatever they wanted of me I would do, just to get out of this. There has to be a reason why they chose me, other than my gender. They have to wantsomething.
They both slow to a stop as an orangey haze spreads through the trees, slightly illuminating our surroundings. I can hear the soft chatter of other men in the distance, talking and laughing. We emerge through the treeline, and everything is bright, as if we are standing next to a firepit. They stand still for a moment, before Jeremiah’s body turns and walks away from the direction of the light.
