Page 132 of The Dragon Warlord
But the bastard hadn’t woken me at all. He’d let me sleep, which is the state I saw him in as they dragged me screaming from the camp. No one woke up. Not a soul.
My magic still isn’t working. I don’t know if it’s because of the spell that ensnared the camp or because of the manacles that bind me. I’ll have to take one of their weapons, but in order to do that, I need my hands free. I’ve tried to reach Tristan through our connection several times with no luck.
Tristan and I have never been this far apart. Even when I was taken at the fortress, I was only across the fortress from him. We’ve never tried our connection at this distance. I don’t know if the reason I can’t reach him is because he’s still under the sleeping spell, or we simply can’t communicate at such a distance.
I keep trying.
Tristan’s words whisper from my memories. “Of course, I came for you. I will always come for you.”
I won’t sit around waiting for the Warlord, I’ll be watching for an opportunity to arise, but I wouldn’t mind being Tristan’s omega in distress. Seeing as I can take care of myself, it’s only once a decade-ish that he gets to save me from something awful.
In the meantime, I’m going to do what Kanes do best. Antagonize the fuck out of these guys. I start laughing like a crazy person. “You are so dead.”
“Shut up.”
They talk? Since when? I don’t ever remember one talking. None of them have wings like the first one we ever fought did. Was that one their leader? A more evolved version of these cretins? We’ve never seen one that large since. Not even at the fortress.
The one holding my chain yanks on it, and I trip forward, nearly falling on my face as I tumble to the ground. They don’t wait for me to recover and when I realize I’m being dragged, I use what’s left of my strength to get up.
“Hey, if you don’t want me to keel over, I need water or you’re going to be carrying my arse wherever we’re going.”
They look at each other as if to check if that’s true. Two of them shrug at each other but continue to walk at the same grueling pace.
“Ninety-nine bottles of mead on the wall, ninety nice bottles of mead …” I sing. They tell me to shut up. I keep singing.
The large one wallops me across the face, splitting my already split lip further, but I don’t stop.
“Can we kill it yet?” the smallest one says.
“No.”
Good to know. They’re going to kill me, but not yet.
I keep singing since they’ve decided to ignore me in favor of carrying on and focus my connection with Tristan. What if he’sstillasleep? I almost don’t want to know. Maybe it’s better to hang onto the hope that someone might come for me before I’m led to my death, rather than know for certain no one’s coming for me.
Tristan. Tristan.
Gods, Riv? Is that you?
It’s me.
Are you okay?
More or less.
If they’ve harmed one hair on your head …
They’ve harmed many hairs, Alpha.
Where are you?
A few hours east of camp.
Hang tight, okay? I’m coming for you.
Okay. Please hurry.
May the Gods keep you safe when I can’t.
