Page 8 of Stolen Fates
Once outside, the sudden sunlight flooding the camp brought her instant relief and comfort after the smothering darkness of the tent. Heart hammering inside her chest, she grappled with the folds of her dress but pressed forward, putting more distance between the brute and herself. Her ankle-length dress impeded her movements, the heavy fabric ensnaring her legs, and she had half a mind to tear it off altogether. Peeking over her shoulder tomake sure her suitor wasn’t following her, she bumped straight into her father.
He grabbed her by the shoulders, his features a mask of alarm. “Katell, what are you doing out here?”
The urgency in his voice pierced through the chaos of her thoughts, yet she struggled to find the right words. The anger that had surged within her so quickly in the tent was gone. Instead, her breath came in short bursts, and tears stung the backs of her eyes. Although she tried to hide them, her father’s stricken face told her he’d seen them.
He glanced between her and the tent she’d escaped from, then steered her away towards the elders’ pavilion where a crowd of families, councilmen and elders remained gathered.
“Tell me what happened.” Her father’s broad frame shielded her from the dozens of pairs of eyes that turned her way.
She swallowed hard. “Elder Moskon left me alone, and—”
His brow shot up. “He what?!”
Before she could explain, her suitor came charging out of the tent, a murderous look on his face. “That girl attacked me!”
Gasps echoed through the gathered crowd, and disapproving stares shifted towards Katell. Given her reputation as a fighter, they readily believed her suitor’s accusation.
He made a beeline for the elders. “I come here as a guest, pay you with the finest furs of my camp, and this is how I’m rewarded?”
At once, Demetrius and Scylas’ father went to appease him, but Damocles remained at her side. Running a hand through his hair, he watched her with a slight furrow in his brow. “Kat, is it true? Did you attack him?”
His words held a subtle hint of disapproval, and Katell’s throat ran dry. She felt like a child again, being scolded for her violent tendencies.
“No.” She fought to keep her voice steady. “He asked me to take off my clothes, and when I refused, he grabbed me.”
Her father’s face darkened at once.
Inevitably drawn by the commotion, Elder Ignatius stormed out of the pavilion entrance, his features taut with displeasure. “What is the meaning of this?”
He took one look around and hurried towards her suitor, who was in a heated discussion with Demetrius.
“Kat!” a voice called out behind her.
She turned to find Scylas’s tall frame approaching, his sandy-coloured hair tousled from the wind, suggesting he had just returned from a ride. A wave of relief swept through her at the sight of him. “Are you all right? What happened?”
His keen eyes roved over her, lingering on her hands clenching the beaded folds of her dress. He moved closer, as if to hold them, but halted upon noticing his father nearby.
“Scylas, could you please take Kat home?” Damocles asked, his hard gaze fixed on her intended groom. “I need to have a word with the elders.”
“Of course.” Scylas wrapped an arm around her shoulders with a reassuring strength that soothed her nerves.
Still, Katell hesitated to leave. If her suitor was angry with her, it could cause trouble for not only her but her family as well. The elders could punish them for it, or even come after Alena…
Her heart lurched. “Father—”
“Go.” Damocles tilted his head. “I’ll take care of it. You won’t be seeing that man again, not if I have anything to say about it.”
He marched off, and she let Scylas lead her away from the crowd, ignoring the scathing looks. She might have broken the Freefolk rule of treating guests with respect and dignity, but her suitor had deserved it. She hoped the elders would recognise him as the brute he’d proved to be, undeserving of a bride, butif he’d truly arrived bearing numerous valuable gifts, they might hesitate to turn him away.
Discernible worry touched Scylas’ face. “What happened?”
She shook her head, too shaken to give him an answer. Only the soft rustle of her dress accompanied their hurried pace through the camp.
When they reached her home and slipped through the flaps, Alena was cooking by the fire. She shot to her feet, not expecting their sudden arrival. With one glance at Katell, she signalled Scylas to sit her down on the bed and wrapped a shawl around Katell’s shoulders before giving them some privacy.
They sat side by side in silence, at first. Enveloped by the familiar comforting scents of her home, Katell soon found her troubled thoughts appeased.
After a moment, Scylas laid his hand over hers. “I’m sorry,” he said, softly. “I’ve been ignoring you and I shouldn’t have done that.”
