Page 11 of Bride of the King
I was too sleepy to think about his words or even respond. I drifted off to a pleasurable sleep.
The sun was up when I woke next, and I felt a slight ache down there. Zander still lay beside me, his chest rising and falling as he slept. Sometime in the night we’d shifted positions, and he no longer held me. I sat up slowly, hoping I wouldn’t wake him. My thoughts drifted back to his last words. He was sorry. Which implied he’d done something wrong. A sensation of uneasiness passed over me as I slipped out of bed to wash up, for there was blood between my thighs.
My face heated each time I thought of what had happened last night. It had been more, much more than the tales I’d heard. I wondered if there would be blood next time. As I washed, I touched my lower belly, but other than a slight tenderness, there was nothing else to remind me of what had taken place. So that was what every talked about, the hidden whispers, the secret pleasures. A smile came to my lips, and I quickly hid it behind my hands. Peeking over the screen, I studied Zander on the bed. His blond hair was tousled, one arm flung over his head. He looked so peaceful. I couldn’t hold back the smile, and I thought I might be falling in love with my husband.
This time, I’d be the one to bring us breakfast. I slipped out of the tent to find Naomi, humming as I moved between the tents. I sniffed the air, surprised I didn’t smell the scent of cooking. And it was quiet. Far too quiet. Where were the children? My feet slowed to a stop, and I looked at the colorful tents flapping in the breeze. What if? But I wasn’t able to finish the thought when a rough male voice called, “There she is!”
I spun and saw two men running toward me. They were big, stocky brutes of men with thick corded muscles and enormous noses. They looked alike. Twins? With knives in hand and black scarves around their necks. A scream escaped my throat. “Zander,” I shouted, realizing I was too far away from his tent to warn him. “Zander!”
And then I took off running, toward the wood and down the track where I got married. Where had the thieves come from? Had they snuck up in the night? My breath came thick and fast, the first sign of panic. I forced it down, forced it away as tears threatened to ruin my concentration. I hadn’t need to run before, but I was small and swift, my elvish blood allowing me to maneuver quickly through the trees. If only my heavy breathing wouldn’t give me away. I scrambled down a slight rise, almost tearing my slippers as I ran among bushes and brambles.
Behind me, I heard a curse. They were coming. They were coming fast! Tears filled my eyes as I pushed my burning feet onward. What had they done with Zander? What had they done with the Rovers? Had they snuck up in the dead of night and slaughtered them all? Or held them as prisoners? And why did they want me? What had I done?
I rounded a curve and dashed behind some trees, working hard to curb loud breaths. The two men came closer, and between the thick foliage I saw their knives glinting in the light. Pressing both hands to my mouth to keep from crying out, I watched as they slowed, eyes on the ground, searching for my tracks. Were they trackers? Hunters? If so, I’d done a poor job at hiding. Keeping as silent as I could, I moved, continuing downhill through the trees. I wasn’t in the wildwood, but I could see the enchanted forest looming on one side and I was close, too close to its heavy boughs and dark fumes. Glancing at it gave me pause and then came a shout. “There she is!”
I pushed myself onward, my feet kicking up dust as I fled. Why had I slowed down? Why had I stopped? They were far too close and, slim and fast as I was, they were catching up. I could taste blood in my throat as I pushed myself on, legs pumping, arms swinging. The trees thinned, giving way to the strength of sunlight. A light breeze blew past me, but sweat dripped down my neck and made my dress cling to my body. A sob burst out of my mouth as fingers snatched at my dress and missed.
They were going to take me. What would they do with me? It was that fear that gave me one last surge of speed. Ahead of me I saw the winding river that flowed from Geben into the enchanted wildwood. I’d never considered whether what was in the wildwood came out, using the river, but a sudden chill came over me as I ran toward it.
The waters moved as I fled toward them, the gentle hum of the river turning into something else, something dangerous. The roar of a wave came and a cyclone of water rose, spinning, terrifying, as silver droplets sprayed the air. My fleet feet came to a pause, and I stood in the tall grass, eyes wide as I stared. The wall of water fell with a splash, sending mud and water overflowing onto the bank. And there she was.
Fear churned in my belly and bile rose in my throat, even though I hadn’t had a bite to eat—or drink. The creature that rose out of the waters was none other than the river goddess herself, scales glistening in the light, her mud-colored face gleaming as she laid eyes on me. My heart beat a rhythm in my ears. All the breath left my body as I stared at her malicious face, and my father’s words came back to me.Never use magic. No matter how bad it gets. The cost is not worth it.
“Nesrin of Gebeth,” she quipped, a coldness worse than death in her tone. “You’ve returned to my waters. A timely return, for I have need of you. It’s time to pay for your wishes.”
My throat went tight. She hadn’t forgotten. But one glance at her round eyes told me I could not hope for favors. I opened my mouth to respond and found that I was trembling all over. The shaking overcame me from head to toe because I knew I’d meddled with a darkness I did not understand.
“It’s time for you to pay the toll,” the river goddess went on. “It’s time for you to die.”
Die. The world jolted me and protests rose on my lips. What had I done to deserve death? A ragged cry tore from my lips and I spun, but the men were on either side, eyes glittering as they approached me. I turned back to the river goddess, clasping my hands in front of me as I sank to my knees. “Please. Not death. Anything else, but not death.”
She wrinkled her nose and narrowed her eyes before pointing a finger at me. “You were the one who came to my waters. You begged me for three wishes. Wishes which I granted, in exchange. Are you saying you don’t want to keep up your end of the bargain? You don’t want to make an exchange?”
“Yes, no,” I cried, misery engulfing me as I realized I was trapped. Bitterness laced my words. “What is the point in granting me three wishes if you’re going to take away my life? In doing so, you nullify the wishes.”
The river goddess had the audacity to laugh. Head thrown back, droplets of water shimmering off her glistening scales. Her laugh was rough, laced with something deeper. Something that forced an undercurrent of fear to swim through me.
“It’s magic,” the river goddess snapped, her expression changing from mirth to annoyance. “You’ll pay the price, whether you like it or not. You were the one who did not name the terms, who asked for three foolish wishes. One only has so long until payment is due. When you entered my waters, I felt it, I knew there was something different about you, and the time, the time is almost right. Take her away,” she snarled to the men. “Prepare for the ritual.”
I opened my mouth to respond, to protest. The men on either side of me grabbed my arms. A scream tore out of my throat, but one man pressed a cloth against my face. It smelled like mist and fog, with a sharp acid tang. I took a breath, recognizing the scent. It was a herb to make one pass out, generally used if someone were in pain from an injury, it was a way to give them some peace while their wounds were treated. Knowing it was being used on me made me terrified, and even as a wave of blackness passed over me, I fought for consciousness. My eyelids fluttered, heavy with the need to close. I lost control of my limbs. As I went limp, I was vaguely aware of the two men lowering me to the ground. A sob escaped my lips. My last conscious thought was:I don’t want to die.
10
A poundingheadache woke me from my unwanted slumber. My head rested against something damp, cold, and hard. A stone? My eyelids fluttered as I tried to make sense of where I was. I lifted a hand to my head, and it all came crashing back. My beautiful night with Zander, waking in the peaceful tent only to be chased down by the men, and captured by the river goddess. It was all my fault, wasn’t it? If I hadn’t used magic, none of this would have happened. I couldn’t be sure, but Zander had chosen me long ago, perhaps my fate would have changed, without the use of magic. I sank down into the darkness, wishing again for the herb to put me out of my misery, let me forget. Hot tears streamed down my cheeks, as I lay still, trying to let my headache evaporate so I could figure out what to do. But it wouldn’t go away.
Finally, the stuffiness of the place where I was being held and the prickliness of the hay made me sit up. It was dark out. From what I could tell, I sat in a barn, with the scent of animal musk around me. In fact, I could hear a beast chewing, the sound oddly comforting in the darkness. I lifted my hands and touched my head, surprised I was free to move. But when I stood, there was a tug at my ankle. I’d been tied by my foot to the stall and could only move in a small circle. Sitting down again, I felt for the rope in the darkness, and my fingers happened on a knot. It was tight, but I worked at it. If I could free myself and escape, I wouldn’t have to die.
My thoughts raced back to the rover camp. What had happened? Was Zander still alive? Lammas was almost here. Had they taken Zander? Would they sacrifice him? Although Naomi said it was only the women whom they sacrificed to the wildwood. I’d heard tales of those bloody sacrifices and wondered what it meant for me. Why did the river goddess want me, especially, to die? It wasn’t because of the deal, or lack of deal, I’d made with her. Her words made me shiver, for it felt as though she’d chosen me, because I was Nesrin, just as Zander had chosen me.
One of my nails bent and broke, sending a sharp pain up my arm. A curse escaped my lips, but I re-doubled my efforts. I had to escape. I wouldn’t let them sacrifice me. Again I thought of Zander’s face, the anguish behind his voice when he spoke of his family. I was going the same way they were, wasn’t I? It wasn’t fair.
I worked on the knot until my nails broke and my fingers bled. It didn’t budge. My head swam, but at least the headache lessened as the light grew. It didn’t notice it first, but there it was, a gray light bringing a whisper of a breeze. I listened as I worked, even though it was useless, it felt good for my hands to be doing something.
The sound of a door swinging open made me lift my head and a beam of sunlight filled the room. They came with the light, walking out of the mist with their long black robes flapping in the breeze. Every part of their skin was covered, from the gloves on their hands to the masks on their faces. The only feature displaying were their eyes, some hard and cruel, others softer, almost gentle. Men and women. Was this the tribe Zander had spoken of? Who were they? Outlaws? Those who followed the old ways, making blood sacrifices for protection? I assumed that’s what I was, for I could make no other headway. I was to be a Lammas sacrifice to the wildwood. That’s why I had to die. They would get protection, and as for the river goddess, well, I wasn’t sure what she would gain. She had her reasonings, and it did not matter, it only mattered that I hadn’t escaped in the night.
I stumbled to rise on numb feet, moving back toward the wall as a sniffling cry left my lips. Cold sweat dripped down my back and my heart raced. They wouldn’t. They couldn’t! But words hung in my throat and unable to scream, unable to beg them to let me live, I only gave a brief struggle as they surrounded me. They tied my arms behind my back and pulled a hood over my face. I stumbled as I was led out, I thought, but the hood over my face was thick and allowed me to only see varying shades of light. I was told to climb up into what felt like a wagon and sit again on yet another bed of prickly hay. I was beginning to hate the feel of hay itself. An itch rose in my nose and I sneezed. A horse whinnied, and the wagon set off with a jolt.
I was bumped and jolted the entire way until it felt like my teeth had come loose and rolled around in my jaw. I had no idea how long it had been, but my head was pounding and my eyes smarted with tears when the wagon stopped. They hauled me down and led me somewhere stuffy and too warm. I waited, arms still tied, knees drawn up, waiting for death.
