Page 16 of Given to the Fae
I force myself not to react as I usually would. Instead, I chuckle callously. ‘That’ll be the least of your injuries if you cross me, human,’ I say loud enough that the fae eavesdropping hears easily.
But I see her taking her spot in the cart, away from the other two females. I feel their eyes on me, and I expect to see fear, but instead all of them are still. They’re pretending not to be watching me, but I can sense anticipation. It’s as if they’re waiting for something and it feels very similar to when Lockewas touching her at that repugnant trading post we picked them up at.
I walk across the clearing and grab my pack, noting that all the supplies down to the last bedroll have been stored away again. I nod at Morgan as I grab my horse, and we begin to move. I’m one of the last to leave, so I’m behind the bulls who are attached to the back of the cart.
No one can see where I’m looking now, and I find myself inexplicably drawn to the female sitting alone in the straw of the cage. I’m surprised to find that she’s looking at me as well, and I frown.
Her eyes bore into me, and she seems oddly pensive where the other humans are resigned.
I look away, focusing on the trees around us. We won’t make it to the next Ring until the sun is high. At least after that there’ll be a town where we can get some decent food.
I chance another look at the girl.Bryn.
She’s still staring intently at me. I stare back until she finally looks away and I sigh.
I should ignore her. Nothing good is going to come from interacting with her, especially when we reach the next town. That’s when the slaves will see the healer and we’ll begin offloading the cargo to whomever will buy. Bere said that girl is for the pit fighters, but he might change his mind.
I don’t care, I tell myself. Who is this girl to me? No one.
The mission is paramount.
CHAPTER 3
BRYN
Ican’t stop looking at him. I want to but I can’t.
I take in his chestnut hair and the masculine look of his jaw and nose, the cut of his brow, the small scar on his chin that gleams when the light catches it. Aye, he’s fine to look at, but they always are, these fae. So perfect to our eyes especially when compared to orcs and demons and pixies and goblins, and whatever other Dark Realm creatures that may cross our paths.
But the fae’s beautiful faces and strong bodies are but sweet-smelling handkerchiefs over the nose that block out the smell of shit, the cruelty and the depravities they heap on us because they can. Every slave knows it.
I glance at Bell and Ila, still recovering from last night. They probably will be for a while…if not in body then in mind.
My eyes find the fae who’s the object of my thoughts. I heard one of the others call him Jak.
Jakhurtme. There’s a visible bruise from where he grabbed my arm. There’s a raised egg on my forehead from how hard he threw me into the cart.
But fate didn’t punish him just as it didn’t punish the other one. Locke. This has never happened before and now twice in asmany days. Why? I’m hurt,they’rehurt. That’s how it’s always been…and it’s the only protection I have.
I continue to watch the fae male I wish I didn’t keep noticing was handsome, hoping to see something that will tell me how he was able to escape fate.
At the very least he should have tripped and fallen awkwardly or stubbed his toe hard enough for it to break.
But I’ve been watching him, waiting for something to happen. Minutes have crawled by and there’s been nothing just as yesterday in The Barrack with Locke.
I force my gaze to the other two girls again. Neither of them has spoken to me. After what they endured last night, I don’t expect them to again for a while. Bell will know that Bere wouldn’t have been able to do anything to me, not unless I wanted him to. I almost laughed aloud when he came out of his tent pretending he could remember anything after that bump on the head. At any rate, my safe night in the warm furs was nothing like Bell and Ila’s was in the hands of those rough fae. I suppress a shiver…and the guilt that creeps in.
Instead, I think of the question that’s been sitting on the fringes of my mind like an insidious spirit.
Two times. What if I’m not Kismet anymore?
Even thinking it hits me like a bludgeon. What if they’ll be able to do anything they can think of to me now with no comeuppance?
My heart pounds hard at the mere thought. Fate has kept me safe, but what if it isn’t anymore? I hadn’t thought I’d been taking it for granted, but I realize now that I have been. I’ve been safer than any other human in the Dark Realms for years. I’ve experienced some of what the others go through, but I’ve largely been a bystander, a witness to the cruelties of the masters while barely being touched by them. If I’m no longer Fate Touched, how long before these things are done to me?
Not long if last night was anything to go by.
Stars dance before my eyes and I shut them tightly, swallowing hard. I feel as if I’m about to lose the morning meal of stale bread I shoved hastily down my throat when I woke.
