Page 108 of Silver & Smoke
There was nowhere for Wren to go as he forced the cup to her lips and tipped it back, spilling most of it down her chin but managing to get a mouthful or two down her throat.
‘Somebody needs to teach you some manners,’ he grunted as she wiped the wine from her face and grimaced. It tasted like warm vinegar, nothing like the wine Wilder bought from his friend Marise. But she didn’t spit it out. She made sure to swallow it, made sure they saw her drink it.
She had never been gladder to have taken Cal’s place. It was perfect that it was her in the cage.
‘Well?’ the commander prompted, glancing from his soldier to Wren’s wine-stained clothes.
‘Well, she hasn’t dropped down dead,’ the man said, sniffing the goblet.
‘Fine.’ The commander waved him off.
Stinking of wine and animal, Wren watched as the rest of the company discovered the liquor. They drank as they pilfered the camp, somewhere along the way forgetting to notice that their scouts had not returned from their pursuit of Cal and Kipp.
The campfires were relit, and soon curious glances began to linger on her. Wren knew it was only a matter of time. She’d met plenty of men like them before.
It was the one called Donovan who approached her, leering. ‘Perhaps we should let her out to play for a while...’
‘She’s to remain untouched,’ the commander snapped. ‘Un-spoiled.’
‘Bit late for that if she’s been with that Bear Slayer Warsword,’someone called out from across the fires, a comment that was followed by raucous laughter.
Wren watched on as another hour passed. The nape of her neck prickled as the commander retired to one of the larger tents, and Donovan’s eyes found her again. Predictable. It was all so predictable.
He approached, dragging a stick along the bars of her cage. ‘What’s the matter, storm girl? You never seen a man before?’
‘I have,’ Wren allowed. ‘I just don’t see any here.’
Donovan lashed out, striking the cage with his stick, hard. Wren flinched. The sudden noise and movement made her head hurt all over.
‘I’d watch your mouth,’ Donovan hissed. ‘Might determine how you get treated in a place like this, if you get my meaning. I’d start putting in some effort if I were you.’
Thanks for the advice, Wren wanted to say, but this time she kept her mouth shut, her gaze drifting to the soldiers across the camp. They were already rowdy from the drink, slurring their words and calling for refills.
‘Are you pricks sloshed already?’ Donovan called from beside Wren’s cage. He was leaning on it rather heavily, Wren observed. She could have done without the close proximity. He stank worse than the cage.
The men around the campfires had indulged indeed. Some were stumbling, others drunkenly arguing over whose patrol was next... and some of their glassy-eyed gazes fell to her. They cleared their throats as they stood and started to stagger towards the cage.
They meant to make a game of her, that much was clear. A part of her felt untethered from the whole situation, as though she were watching it unfold from a distance, disappointed to find that men of the midrealms were as despicable as ever. Perhaps all that time with her Warsword had made her forget this foul side of mankind.
She could feel Donovan’s eager eyes on her, lingering on her wet shirt and form-fitting trousers.
‘Donovan’s got his eyes on the prize,’ someone leered.
She tensed at the attention, and the bastard Donovan noticed with a smug smirk. ‘Reckon you’ll smile for me now, storm girl?’
She said nothing.
In the distance, someone let out a disgusting, wet belch, which was followed by a howl of laughter.
‘Pigged out on the beef stew, did you, Higgins?’
‘And the wine, and the mead,’ came the satisfied reply. ‘And now... for dessert.’
Donovan’s knee was bouncing by Wren’s head, but when she turned to him, he cracked his stick against the cage once more. ‘Don’t look to me for help.’
‘That wasn’t what I was looking for,’ Wren muttered, low enough that her captor didn’t hear.
Across the camp, one of the men stood, swaying dramatically on his feet. His comrades called out names and jests about his inebriated state.
