She nods and takes a seat near me with her own food. The other female soldier sits next to Everly, and they fall into conversation. I study her for a moment, taking in her deep red hair, the light freckles scattered across the bridge of her nose. Her friendly nature. The entire time she speaks to Everly, happiness twinkles in her brown eyes.
I lift my spoon, sip the potato soup, and dart a quick glance around and think of trying to escape again. I’ll have to be cunning and take them by surprise to leave.
Or…
My gaze lifts enough to settle on Praxis for several breaths. He could help me. Maybe.
After all, he promised me his sword after I saved his life by healing him after a bear attacked him. But would he help me leave the Bloodstone people?
After I finish eating, Hector stands and leads me to a tiny tent in the center of the camp. Just like the bedchamber I used in the palace, there’s only a lumpy mattress and no other furniture. A wooden post stabs the ground next to the mattress with a thick iron shackle attached to the bottom.
I sigh and move to sit on the mattress.
“You won’t like this.” Hector crosses the room and grabs my left leg.
My heart skips a beat as I try to yank free, but he tightens his grip.
“What are you going to do?” I ask through quick breaths.
He ignores me and shackles my leg to the post.
Frustration gnaws at my chest as I glare. “This is unnecessary.”
“It’s very necessary. You killed two of my warriors, and if given a chance, you will run.”
“You murdered Malachi!” Anger blinds me as I lash out at him.
“I executed a spy.” Hector rises to his feet, his movements infuriatingly calm.
“You were angry…” I say through my teeth as I yank against the damn shackle, “…and you took that anger out on an innocent man.”
No empathy stirs behind Hector’s gaze as he folds his thick arms. “He was anything but innocent.”
“Admit it.” My nails dig into my palm as I tighten my fingers into fists. “You murdered him to hurt me.”
“No.” Loose strands of black hair fall against Hector’s forehead as he shakes his head.
Venom slips from my lips as I speak. “Liar.”
A muscle ticks in Hector’s jaw as he inspects the tent, as if he thinks I’ll spawn a hole in the fabric and escape. “I have ample proof that he was a spy. We don’t tolerate spies.”
“Prove it.”
“I have nothing to prove to you.” How final Hector’s words are. How frustrating.
Anger strikes my chest as I roll away from him and lie on my side, facing the wall. “Then, I shall hate you.”
“So be it.” Resignation fills Hector’s tone as he removes the torch and leaves me.
I slam my free leg against the lumpy mattress. Why doesn’t he fight to defend himself, to make me see him as anything other than the Bloodstone’s chieftain?
Surely, there is a part of him that is still Gabriel.
There must be. Or maybe I just want him to be.
I cringe at the crushing darkness and let out a quick breath. It brings nightmares. So many nightmares. I tuck my feet under the covers. If they are under the linen, surely, I will not have a nightmare.
It’s a futile thought. The moment I fall asleep, that horrible day returns and jolts me awake.
