“Safe,” I repeat, doing my best to keep the sarcasm out of my voice, something telling me he probably doesn’t find me as amusing as I do myself. “But might you be more specific? Are we speaking of a secluded cottage where I’ll be befriended by baby deer and bunny rabbits? Or ‘safe’ as in a fortress where you plan to lock me away forever, so isolated that not even insects could find me?”
No response. Not even a grunt. It’s like talking to a mute, stoic tree stump. One I’d dearly like to kick in the shins right now. Do tree stumps have shins? They’re kind of like one big shin as it is.
Focus,Eirabella. Maybe consider the human anatomical equivalent of trees when you’re not being held captive by the realm’s most monosyllabic guard.
I sigh, glancing around at the forest, searching for any signs of civilization. But all I see are more trees, more shadows, and the endless stretch of underbrush. There’s no path, no landmarks, nothing that gives me a clue as to where we might be. It’s like we’re riding through the middle of nowhere, with no destination in sight. If you don’t count Safeville, that is. Which… I’m not, just yet.
“Perhaps another question, then,” I say, shifting in the saddle to find a more comfortable position, as my eyes continue to dart around as surreptitiously as I can allow. “What shall I call you? Surely, you have a name?”
“Doesn’t matter,” he answers, his voice devoid of any emotion.
“Does to me. I want to know who I’m cursin— I mean, praying for tonight. But if you’re not feeling generous, I shall dub thee Lord Grumpypants,” I declare with a flourish, turning in the saddle to look at his face.
Only the tiniest twitch in his jaw alters his masked expression as he flicks his eyes to me. “Fine.”
“Excellent. Now that we have that settled, my name is Eirabella.”
“I know.”
I frown as I face the front again. Well, I certainly don’t like that. I mean, I’m not altogether surprised; you would hope if you were going to kidnap someone you’d know their name, but I still don’t like it. “How do you know?”
“Just do.”
I roll my eyes, even though he can’t see it. I’m starting to wonder if maybe he’s actually physically incapable of speaking more than two-word sentences. “Did you anger a witch and have a two-word-maximum spell cast on you?”
Predictably, he doesn’t respond to that one.
“If you don’t want to tell me where you’re taking me, how about you tell mewhyyou’re taking me?” I press, hoping to get something more out of him. “Is it because of something I did? Something I said? My winning personality?”
Nothing.
“Not even a clue? Because I really thought that last one might actually be a valid reason to take me. Must be my unrivalled beauty, then.” I pat my hair, ignoring that it feels like a rats’ nest. “Fine,” I say, throwing my hands up in mock surrender. “Be that way. But just so you know, this whole ‘strong, silent type’ thing? It’s not really working for me. And I’d like to leave some feedback for your employer when all this is done about your behaviour. ‘Dear Lord Grumpypants’s employer, I’d like to report that your employee has the personality of a rockand conversational skills as sharp as a dull spoon. Sincerely, Kidnapped and Concerned.’ Please pass it on.”
There’s a long stretch of silence, so long that I start to think he’s not going to respond at all. But then, just when I’m about to give up entirely, I hear the faintest noise—a low, almost imperceptible rumble in the chest behind me.
“I’m sorry, did you just chuckle?”
He stiffens. “No.”
I grin to myself. No, it wasn’t a laugh, but at least I’ve managed to get some kind of reaction. It’s a small victory, but I’ll take it.
We lapse back into silence,but this time it feels a little less oppressive. I know I’m not going to get any answers from him, not yet anyway. As we continue to ride, I focus on staying awake, on keeping my mind sharp and my senses alert. I know I need to be ready when the time comes. Whenever that is. Because one thing’s for sure—I’m not going down without a fight.
And the one word wonder behind me? He’s going to learn that the hard way.
Hours later,when I feel like my muscles are sloughing off my bones from exhaustion, the horse comes to a stop and the body behind me jumps from the saddle.
“Dismount,” he orders, already helping me slide from the saddle before I can protest, and he sets me like a ragdoll on the ground. My legs wobble beneath me, nearly buckling afterhours on horseback, and his hands linger on my waist, steadying me while I gain my balance.
“Um, th-thank you,” I murmur to the broad expanse of chest in front of me that I watch inflate with a deep breath before he releases me. I raise my restrained hands and try to kick his shin as he steps past me. “Free me, please, oh benevolent Lord Grumpypants.”
He glares at me out of the side of his eye as he easily sidesteps my foot. “Are you going to behave?”
“That depends on what you mean by behave.”
“No running.”
I make a big pretence out of considering it, and then I nod. “Too tired. I won’t run. For now. Good enough?”
