“Fuck.” She sighs and glances back at me. “Fine, deal, but if you so much as annoy me, you’re gone, understood?”
“Of course, Goldie,” I purr, licking my lips. “Shall we get started then?”
If only the little human knew just what she gave me and how she would be mine before she reaches the palace.
It isn’t the orcs she needs protection from, but me.
ChapterEleven
Grimus hadn’t once told me exactly how long the journey to the old king’s palace would take, but I’m starting to suspect he doesn’t actually know. Not because the journey is super treacherous—it is—or because it’s a hard thing to guess at, but because of me. After a few hours of walking through the trees, it becomes increasingly apparent that I’m the reason we’re moving at the pace he’s set. When he first appeared and saved me from Nero, I had to run to keep up with him. Now he moves ahead of me at a normal pace, as if he’s making his strides purposely slower to appease me. I should be grateful for the change, but I find it only makes me feel guilty. He’s helping me, and the best I can do is keep up this mediocre pace.
Bracken, in contrast, is almost slower than I am. It’s not because he physically can’t move faster, but because he’s constantly distracted by his surroundings. One moment, he’ll be walking behind me, making lewd comments about my ass, and the next, he’s climbing a tree to grab a flower. The third time he does the tree thing, I watch him scale the trunk as if it’s nothing more than a ladder. If it were me trying to climb the thing, I never would have made it to the top. The fey simply climbs up, plucks the flower, and lets go.
I jump when he falls to the earth in front of me, the flower in his fingers as he straightens and meets my eyes. Grimus finally stops to see what Bracken is up to. Eyeing the flower warily, I look between him and the blossom that should be beautiful but feels sinister.
Kind of like Bracken.
“For you,” Bracken announces, pushing the flower a little closer to me.
I stare at the flower, taking it in. The petals are a strange, waxy burgundy color, with many of them springing from the center. It almost looks like a mix between the daisies I once saw a woman from the Gilded Lands carrying and a duster. At the center of the petals is a bright green circle that looks toxic and is pinched together as if it’s a mouth. Carefully, I reach toward it, only to jerk my hand back the moment that circle opens and a thin tongue darts out in an attempt to wrap it around my finger. Tiny teeth flash before the circle closes again.
“I don’t want that,” I snarl, stepping back. “It tried to eat me.”
Bracken grins. “Ah, yes. Banty flowers are carnivorous, but I find the best way to deal with things that want to eat you…” Bracken looks down at the flower before flashing me a wicked grin and taking a bite of the thing. The tiny screech it makes brings goose bumps to my arms. “Is to eat it first.”
“Would you stop messing around?” Grimus grunts. “We’re already moving at a snail’s pace.”
Stepping around Bracken as he continues to munch on the carnivorous flower, I try not to think about feeling his eyes on my back. Despite the general creepiness Bracken gives off, there’s also something…intriguing about him. Some part of me wants to learn more, and some smaller part is interested in the looks he keeps throwing my way, as if he’s undressing me with his eyes.
Which I suppose isn’t too difficult, considering what I’m wearing.
The slip I’d been given before I was thrown across the border is worse for wear. The thin fabric is still holding up, but it’s now stained and dirty, and the hemline is torn in some places. The slippers I’d worn across are barely scraps of fabric held on by my hopes and dreams. Before long, they won’t be useful for anything at all.
An hour later, I’m driven mad by Grimus’ silence and Bracken’s mutterings. Neither seems interested in talking to me, but if I don’t speak up, I’ll go mad.
“Have you always watched the hunts die?” I ask suddenly, clearly directing the question toward Grimus.
He glances at me over his broad shoulder, his nose ring glinting in the light. “None of the hunts in my memory have made it as far as you did before we met,” he says. “I’ve only been lucky enough to see a handful of them, and rarely have they been left alive.”
I stare at his back when he turns forward again. “Have you ever been the one to kill a hunt?”
Grimus pauses mid step, but he shakes himself from whatever makes him freeze a second later and keeps walking. It’s as if my question surprised him, as if it’s something he doesn’t want to speak of.
“Why would you ask that?” he says.
Behind me, Bracken giggles, as if he knows the answer. When I glance back at him, he grins at me, flashing those sharp teeth again.
“Curiosity,” I reply, turning back to Grimus. He purposely doesn’t look back at me, as if he doesn’t want to see my face. “By your reaction, I take it you’ve killed at least one.”
No answer.
“Two?”
“Stop asking questions you don’t want to know the answer to, little human,” he finally grumbles.
My brows furrow. “I have a name you know. You can stop calling me ‘little human’ like it’s some great insult. How would you feel if I called you little bull?”
No hesitation. “Call me whatever you want. I don’t care.”
