Page 7 of Stolen Fates
Her mind whirled. The elders must have made a mistake. Her suitor should be attentive to her during the ceremony. Make conversation with her and offer her gifts… Yes, the payment had already been agreed upon by the elders, but the meeting was a chance for the groom to prove himself to the bride and soothe her fears before the wedding took place.
The small silver spoon used to stir the leaves hit the sides of the pot with more force than necessary. Drops of hot water spilled across the table and Katell almost let out a curse. She had no patience for tasks that required a delicate touch. Give her a bow and arrow and she would score a dozen rabbits or squirrels within a day, but faced with a pot and cup, she turned into a complete fool.
Her groom remained seated by the fire. His dark eyes, peering out from beneath heavy brows, watched her. Her skin crawled in response. He didn’t say a word or offer her a compliment as she finished making the tea and then plated two round cheesecakes made from goat’s milk. Although they were her favourites, food was the last thing on her mind.
Once she’d served him, her suitor took one sip of the tea and grimaced. “They told me you hunt.”
His words caught her off guard. It wasn’t a question and yet she answered, “Yes.”
“That’s good. We don’t have a large flock out east—not enough pasture.”
Katell nodded, unsure what to say. Camp Bessi relied on their flock of sheep and goats to get through the winter as well as hunting out in the woods past Camp Lukim towards the Deep River. She couldn’t imagine having to survive winter without milk or cheese to supplement the meat.
Without warning, the tent flap was pulled aside and a stream of sunlight flooded the tight space. Relief spread through Katell until Elder Ignatius’ stern face appeared. Ignoring her, he whispered a few words to Elder Moskon, who swiftly got to his feet.
“I’ll be right back.” He left before Katell could stop him.
Her insides grew cold. The elders were supposed to stay put and chaperone the couples. Something must have happened for Elder Moskon to be pulled away. She pushed to her feet, intending to follow him out.
“Sit.” Her suitor’s sharp word sliced through her like a knife. It was a demand, not a request.
Katell stilled. Why had Elder Moskon left them alone? Why had the elders even chosen such a brute for her in the first place?
After a moment’s hesitation, she knelt again and poured herself another cup of tea, desperate to occupy her shaking hands.
“Leave it, and take off your clothes.”
Her hands froze, the words echoing in her mind.
Take off your clothes.
Take off your clothes.
Surely, she’d misheard him.
“Don’t make me wait, girl.” His gruff voice came out forceful and more like a threat than ever. “I paid a fortune to get the prettiest girl with half a brain.”
Her heart slammed into her ribs. Is that what had happened? She’d been matched with him because he’d offered more goods? Had he also paid the elders to leave them alone inside the tent, so he could sample what he’d bought?
Katell met his gaze once more. Soulless dark eyes glared back at her, as cold as a winter’s night, without a shred of sympathy or kindness.
Something in her gut urged her to flee from the man. “I’m leaving.”
She stood, and despite his muscular build, he sprang to his feet faster than she’d expected. He snatched her arm. “You will sit back down and do as I say.”
Panic rose within her, but she refused to give in to it. “Let me go or you’ll regret it.” She tugged her arm, but his grip was too strong.
His lips curled back into a sneer. “I see you have some fire in you. You’ll need it where we’re going.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you.” She tugged again, her beaded dress rattling with urgency, but he didn’t budge.
“Keep fighting me and you’ll find out my patience runs thin, girl.” He lifted his huge hand to her face and trailed a finger down her cheek. “I always liked breaking pretty things.”
Katell’s temper flared, hot and violent. The elders, driven by their greed, had clearly lost their minds if they saw fit to offer her as a bride to such a man. She’d rather face their wrath than be married to him.
She batted her suitor’s hand away then leaned forward, twisting her arm out of his grip. In the next moment, she kicked him as hard as she could in the shin, like her father had taught her.
The man howled, his dark features twisted in pain, and he released his hold. She hurried away, her pulse racing in her ears.
