“That does not make you weak.”
Doesn’t it?I think. “It makes me a coward, though.”
“No,” he says sharply. “A coward is someone who bows to that fear. Who hides in it. That is not you, is it?”
I bite the inside of my cheek. No, that is not me.
“I didn’t think so. A coward wouldn’t have found the dungeon. A coward wouldn’t have stolen food to give to a captive. A coward would have given up trying the moment they lost access to the sun above, or perhaps sooner. A coward wouldn’t have used a shadowscelp to escape an enemy.”
His gaze remains steady ahead. My stomach sinks. I’ve started to trust this Dread against my better judgement, but?—
My chest aches at the confirmation that he is the warrior who grabbed me in the forest.
He was part of the raid that captured me.
He stole my future. For what?
I close my eyes and shake my head. It can’t matter right now. I’ll deal with that reality later. Right now, I hold my chin up and find every ounce of inner strength I command.
I think of Astella. She is my hope.
She is what I fight for.
Soon,I tell her in my mind. But I say no more because for the next hour, despite my hope, I must pretend to be hopeless.
46
Lina
This time, as I walk beside my Dread while leered at by these beasts called men, I keep my chin up. Hundreds of men line the long tunnel, standing at attention with eerie stillness.
We walk slowly, studied by warriors I’m certain would enjoy tearing me apart. Fangs hidden behind black masks. Eyes harsh.
I resist the urge to shift closer to my Dread, to be sheltered by his strength. He is something more than I expected, but I cannot trust him fully.
I remember the scent of decay on his hands. The awful feeling of his skin on my body as he held me away from the person I love.
“Come on, Little Mouse.” The voice echoes off the walls, making it impossible for me to tell which of the hundred men it came from. “I bet you taste sweet.”
My Dread’s chin dips. His hands clench into fists.
“Trust me, Haze. I will have her eventually.”
I barely register the words before limbs are flying. My Drak has the offender by the throat and flips him on his back in the middle of the walkway. There’s a bombardment of roars and stomping feet.
A swarm of bodies surrounds me. I cover my head and close my eyes, screaming to no one at all.
There’s the warmth of rising flame and then arms around me.
I scream and flail pathetically, but the grip is gentle. It does not pick me up or cause pain. It simply covers me like a shield.
Panting, I force my eyes open. “Shhhh,” he tells me.
I peer past my Dread’s arm to find the other warriors have one of their own held down as he screams at us with unintelligible words.
We rush down the aisle now, until we finally reach the massive iron doors with dragons and flames etched into it.
“What the hell just happened?” I finally ask, looking back over my shoulder. From here, the chaos can only barely be heard.
