“No!”My only protection.The daemon rises up with my panic, searing me internally. He starts to climb off of me, not releasing my wrists until he’s safely on his feet. I scamper up into a sitting position before the sensation of his magic closes around my arms and legs and locks me in place. I grunt against the restraints, terror finally overtaking me. I have nothing, no way to defend myself…not even the locket.
He starts toward me, and I do the only thing I can think of: rear my head back and launch a significant swath of spit, satisfied when it hits home, sliding over his cheekbone.
He halts, repulsed as he wipes at his face. “You are a wild fucking animal.”
He starts forward again, reaching for me, and I choke on a sob as the daemon rises up to an unbearable level and pelts out of me, splitting a nearby tree limb. It breaks off and crashes to the ground, and he straightens with a jolt, trekking forward to scour the area. “Gods, you had to come to the fucking Blood Wood. We need to get out of here.”
He reaches down and hauls me over his shoulder. My limbs unlock for a split second as he adjusts me, and then they’re immobilized once again. I lean forward, an attempt at biting his back and he curses before his magic clamps my mouth shut, too.
I let out a muffled whimper, sucking in sharp breaths through my teeth. There’s no escaping. This was my only shot, and I blew it.
My chest cracks, throat tightening, and I let out another muffled wail. My pulse hammers, the daemon hammering with it. My breaths grow strained. He halts, swearing under his breath before he settles me back on the ground and the magic locking me lifts.
“Calm down. I’m not going to hurt you.”
I scoot myself back against the root-covered ground. Any chance I have at fleeing is lost as my throat swells and the daemon continues blaring, stealing the breath from my chest. “Breathe,” he demands. I wheeze out an awful sputtering sound. “Fuck, just breathe,” he says, panic flashing in his eyes as he sinks to his knees in front of me. He reaches for me, and I shrink back, vigorously shaking my head.
“Don--,” I choke out, tears welling and spilling out over my cheeks.
“Breathe,” he demands. “Or I’m putting you to sleep.”
I shake my head, sobbing as I struggle to take in shuddering gasps. I pull my knees up to rest my face between them and focus on dragging air into my lungs. The daemon continues surging painfully, and I groan.
I reign it back, sucking in breaths until I’m no longer choking on them, and the daemon settles, pulse slowing back into a dull thud.
He doesn’t speak. Minutes have passed by the time I peek my head back up, swiping back the mess of fresh and crusted tears. He sits cross-legged against the ground, feet bare and palms resting patiently face up in his lap. His face has been cleaned of blood, and the slash on his temple is only a red line. His gaze is wary, searching. “It’s Syra, right?”
I don’t bother to correct him, eyes locking on the murderous hands in his lap.
He sighs, shifting his hands behind his back to lean against them. “Look at me.” Reluctantly, I cast my eyes across his face. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
His voice is soft, placating. Honey laid in a trap. I set my jaw, steeling myself from falling for it.
“I’mnotgoing to hurt you,” he repeats, eyes imploring me to believe him.
He tugs himself to his feet, motions cautious like any sudden movement might send me startling. “I’m going to grab my boots. Stay.” He starts to turn but tracks his gaze back to me. “Please.I will track you down if you bolt.”
The words fall like weights, shackling me in place. I watch him stalk away, eyes flickering around the clearing as I consider making a run for it. I no longer think I have the energy to muster it, having used the last of it in our tussle. I’m weak, exhausted. I’ve lost a lot of blood. Even my feet are bloodied. Scraped and bruised from running barefoot through the woods. My shoulder is an aching throb, and my vision blurs slightly at the edges.
If I flee…he’ll find me. For some reason I can’t guess, he seems intent on keeping me.
There’s no escape.
I shiver, drawing mycloak tighter around me, sunken in my defeat. He returns, clothed in his cloak and boots this time, with my bag slung around his shoulder. He pulls it free, tugs it open, and shakes the contents onto the ground. Out falls the two leather canteens I nabbed from him, my folded map, the small amount of food I’d been able to stash away. All the knives have already been lost. He stares down at the meager amount of items, radiating pure condemnation. “How far did you think this was going to get you?”
“I—“I had more food, I want to say. But Div kept eating it. I break off, not wanting to reveal that Div was aiding me. He leans down, picks up one of the canteens and hands the other to me. I want to refuse. My insatiable thirst refutes me. I unscrew the cap and take several eager swigs as he peels the paper from the ground and unfolds it. A sinking sense of mortification envelopes me as he scrutinizes my crudely drawn map, expression indecipherable.
Crumpling the map, he tosses it, looses a sigh, and sinks to his knees in front of me. Unclasping the cloak from around his neck, he draws a symbol and begins tearing shreds from the bottom.
“Let me help you?” He nods his head toward my arms, which are a mess of dried and fresh blood. I watch him warily as he slowly reaches forward, like he’s seeking to initiate contact with a wild animal as he fits his palm under mine and tugs my arm taut.
He waves his hand over my arm, and the blood dissipates to reveal a string of gashes and welts torn from the roots. More blood trickles out as he starts tying the ripped strips of fabric over them. “I could seal them,” he explains softly, gesturing toward the sealed cut on his head. “But I’m not very good at healing, and it comes with risks. I’d have to reopen them when we get back to clean them, so it’s not really worth the hassle.” His eyes flick up to mine, brows drawing together. “You’ve lost a fair bit of blood. How do you feel?”
Like death.
I turn my head, staring off into the ghostly woods. Just because I can’t escape him doesn’t mean I have to be docile about my imprisonment. I bite back a wince with the shifting of my injured shoulder as he grabs my hand but his movements remain delicate and fastidious as he ties the strips around my arms.
“Why are you doing this?” I ask hoarsely.
