Though he has not seemed to pay me much mind so far, he is clearly more invested than I anticipated, so I don’t know what to expect from him. Maybe now that I am clean and presentable, he’ll—I swallow. Maybe he will not leave me alone tonight.
Is that the cost I must pay for the luxury? And is that really worth it to the Drahkita here? Or like me, did they have no real choice?
“The sanctum is far,” he tells me. “Keep up.”
His long strides require multiple steps for me to match his pace. I again try to focus on my surroundings. The rushing sound of the cascade is muted but present and remains at the same level for several minutes, but we are no longer in the same corridor as our den or the community room. The tunnel is wider here, the ceiling higher. Are we on the other side of the cascades? Or just a separate walkway that passes between? Soon, the floor of the tunnel slopes up, up, up. And my lungs struggle.
My knees begin to tremble.
I shouldn’t be this weak. I can’t be. I must be stronger than this or else, how can I ever expect to escape from this fortress? I will have to flee from the warriors and their beasts for miles and miles.
Reality slams into my gut until I am heaving in desperate breaths. Panic, dark and unending, suffocates me. I can’t do this. I’m not strong enough for this.
Next thing I know, I’m on my knees, unable to get enough air to my lungs.
“What’s wrong?” he barks.
I whimper at the sound of his rough voice.I’m trapped,is what I want to say. I’m not strong enough for this. I can’t just give up—I can’t, but…
His coarse hand grips my upper arm and jerks so that I’m forced to look at him. Shock replaces the panic, but the fear is still just as sharp.
“Tell me what is wrong,” he demands.
Is he angry? He sounds angry.
I can’t tell him what is wrong. I can’t tell him I planned to escape but realized I’m not strong enough for it. “I don’t know how to do this.” I force those words out. They’re true enough. Innocent enough. It’ll have to do.
He watches me, studies me like I’m a creature he doesn’t yet understand. And then, his arms are around me, and I am off the ground.
I recoil, thrashing in his arms, but he holds me tight, and soon, we are moving again. I’m back in that moment when he took me. Threw me over his shoulder like a sack of meat—an already butchered pig ready to be cooked on the pyre.
“Calm down, Lina.”
I blink, shocked at his use of my name. That isn’t what he’d called me before. Rat or mouse or dove. Prey animals. Weak, fearful things only good for eating.
My heart still beats faster than a bunny’s, but I realize I am swaying gently in his arms. I am not thrown over his shoulder like before. He is cradling me like a child.
It’s almost as horrifying if only because it feels so gentle.
I breathe deeply, and I realize the scent of decay is absent. Is that because he bathed today too?
The masks make it hard for me to keep track of who is who. Is he perhaps not the Dread that hunted me down and wrangled me like a hog?
Slowly, despite my discomfort of being treated like an infant, my heart begins to slow and my breathing evens out. “You’re safe,” he tells me. “As safe as you can be here.”
Does that have any meaning at all? I don’t ask.
The warmth of his chest, the tightness of his arms, and the rhythmic swaying as he walks, lulls me into a sense of ease, and my body begins to relax.
After a few minutes, he sets me gently on my feet, arms around my waist until I’m holding my own weight.
“You’ll get stronger with time,” he says. “Your body is weak from malnutrition.”
I stumble a step away from him, unwilling to acknowledge the potential kindness in those words.
“What are we doing?” I ask, looking down at my feet. Clean toes in golden sandals.
“Are you cold?”
