Finally, General Dalgaard sets me on my feet. I immediately take a few steps away, only to worry I just made a grave error. I don’t want to incur his wrath.
Oh, gods, why can’t I do anything right?
I wrap my arms around myself and lower my head, too terrified to meet his gaze.
He closes the space between us, the space I created, and places a finger beneath my chin, forcing my gaze to his. It takes all my self-control not to flinch at his touch.
My eyes burn as I look at him, and I blink fast to prevent the flow of tears. I want to weep and beg him not to hurt me, but I know such a display will only rouse the darkness that’s within him.
Tears. Weeping. Begging.
A memory tries to resurface, something that happened in the Sorsston castle, but I can’t quite make the experience whole.
Try as I might, I can’t recall the events that resulted in a highborn fae flying me to my parents’ house and giving me a bag of silver.
Did a bloodthirsty crowd of fae really have their sights on me?
“As I already said, you’re my war prize, Amelia.” His deep voice resounds in the tent and somehow fills me with warmth, though surely I’m imagining it. “Do you know what that means?”
It means I’m a prisoner.
It means I’m yours until you tire of me.
I don’t say any of that out loud, of course, because I don’t want to anger him. Instead, I shake my head and whisper, “No, sir, not really.”
“It means you’re under my protection, sweet human.” His gaze softens further. “It means no one here will hurt you.”
“What about you?” I can’t help but ask, even though I fear the answer. Even though I’m afraid that voicing the question might anger him. “Will you… hurt me?”
He draws back slightly, and his eyes fill with shock. “No,” he says in a resolute tone. “No, Amelia, I will not hurt you. I swear before the gods.”
I don’t understand. I’m his war prize, and he probably intends to use me as his plaything, yet he claims I’m under his protection and he swears before the gods that he won’t hurt me.
Is he lying? I used to believe fae couldn’t lie, but during the fae occupation of Sorsston I quickly learned they could lie just as easily as my people.
I search his dark eyes for the truth. He looks so earnest.
But he’s a highborn fae, and he’s the general of the Summer Court army. He’s supposed to be cruel and vicious. How else would he have attained such a high rank?
During the occupation of Sorsston, however, I don’t remember him tormenting any humans in the banquet hall ofthe castle. Most of the soldiers and highborn fae who “held court” murdered or maimed at least one poor servant. Every morning after a long night of drunken, violent revelry in the banquet hall, I would be tasked with helping to clean the blood off the stone floor.
But General Dalgaard mostly kept to himself, and if he would’ve killed or tortured someone, I would’ve likely witnessed it, as most of the carnage occurred in the banquet hall. Even if he’d done so elsewhere in the castle, I would’ve heard about it. Not much happens in a castle without all the servants eventually finding out. Gossip helps to liven the long days of drudgery.
“How does your leg feel?” General Dalgaard asks.
“It feels much better.” I swallow hard. “Thank you for healing me.” I can’t believe I’d fainted in his arms and he’d healed me using fae magic while I was passed out.
“What about your face? Does that feel better too?”
“My face?” Confused, I reach to touch my cheek. But as I lift my hand, it brushes against his hand that’s touching my chin. I draw in a quick breath and drop my hand to my side.
“Yes, your face. You had numerous scratches all over it.”
Oh. “Uh, my face feels fine now, too. Thank you for that. As I ran through the forest, branches kept hitting my face.” It’s then that I realize my arms still hurt from the thorny bushes.
In all the excitement since he captured me in the forest, I’d forgotten about the injuries on my arms until now.
I try not to wince or show any signs of pain, but a suspicious gleam enters his eyes, and he gently takes me by my shoulders and steps back. He looks me up and down, his visage brimming with concern.
