Bound (Bound Trilogy) (10 page)

Daryll, a quiet, unobtrusive fellow, filled his half of the coach with his broad shoulders and long, black raincoat. He seemed out of place in the small space, like a guard dog forced to sit quietly in a parlor, but if he was uncomfortable he didn’t show it. We sat in silence for a while, until I asked, “How long have you been with the Langleys?”

“Twenty years.” His voice was soft and smooth, an odd complement to his imposing physique. “Callum was just a little fellow when I joined the household. I’ve been with them for longer than anyone else. They trust me.” He gave me a kind smile. “Callum insisted that I be the one to escort you to the city.”

“He told me he’d send someone he would trust with his own life,” I said, and Daryll seemed pleased. I tried to stifle a yawn behind my hand, but he noticed and checked his watch.

“Forgive me if I’m keeping you awake,” he said. “You’re probably tired from your recent excitement.” In truth, I was exhausted. I hadn’t been sleeping well, spending my nights fighting strange dreams, and the previous evening had been a late one, filled with goodbyes and last-minute plans. Daryll pulled back the curtain and leaned forward to watch the forest go by. It had stopped raining, though water still dripped from the leaves overhead.

“I’m going to ride with the driver for a while,” he told me. “We have a few things to discuss. If you’d like to close your eyes and rest in private while I’m gone, it might make the time pass more quickly. We have a long journey ahead of us.”

I decided that I liked Daryll very much. “Thank you. And thank you for traveling with me. It makes me feel better knowing you’ll be up there.”

Daryll nodded and gave a little smile. “We’re not expecting any trouble, Miss Greenwood, please don’t worry about that. You’re safe with us.” He opened the door and climbed toward the driver’s seat without signaling for the carriage to slow. His coat fell open, revealing a quick flash of dagger hilts that identified him as a Makai, one of the trained protectors employed by the wealthiest citizens of Darmid. I should have known Callum wouldn’t send just any servant.

The door clicked shut, and I stretched out on the seat and rested my head on a soft cushion. The smooth side-to-side rocking soon relaxed me, but my mind was racing too fast for sleep to catch it. I pulled the story book out and passed the time reading.

I’d almost reached the end when the carriage lurched to a sudden stop, sending me tumbling to the floor and the book skidding into the darkness beneath the other seat. Voices yelled outside, angry and frightened. The hairs on my arms prickled, and I shivered.

This is wrong
. I reached into my bag for my knife, but didn’t know what to do next. I sat there turning the blade over in my hands, fighting to keep calm.
It’ll be fine, Darryl is right there.

Someone yelled, but the words were muffled. The door popped open and Darryl appeared, leaning from the driver’s seat in front. “Stay here,” he ordered. “Leave the curtains closed, lock the doors, and don’t open them for anyone!” Then he was gone, and the door slammed behind him.

I reached over and twisted the silver locks on both doors, then slid back to the center of the seat and waited, trembling. There was more yelling and a sound like a tree snapping in half. A horse screamed. I stayed where I was, surrounded by chaos, but insulated and separate from it. I knew it was only an illusion of safety, that the thin wooden walls offered no real protection, but I couldn’t think of what to do except stay where I was and trust that the others would protect me. Never in my life had I felt so helpless.

Unfamiliar voices approached, growing louder until they stopped just outside. Someone tried the door on my left, but the lock held. A low, rough voice cursed, then called out. I held my breath. A wide shadow fell over the curtain, and the hinges creaked as someone hauled back on the door handle.

Every muscle in my body tensed until they felt ready to snap. I pulled my feet up onto the seat, making myself as small as I could.
This is not happening.
I mentally cursed Felicia’s choice of clothes, and wished I had my pants and flat boots on.

The door came off of the carriage with a loud crack, and a bald man leaned in, his shoulders filling the wide opening. He grinned, revealing several broken teeth. Blood dripped into one of his eyes from a gash in his deeply lined forehead.

He chuckled, and my own blood froze in my veins. “My, my. Not what we was expecting!”

Someone shouted outside, and he turned to look.

I kicked my left leg out, and the dainty heel of my boot struck him in the eye. He roared and pulled back from the doorway, and I launched myself out onto the road.

Everything was confusion. I caught a glimpse of huge hands shooting toward me, but the big man’s aim was off, and he only managed to tangle his fingers in the ends of my hair. I shrieked as he ripped several strands out, but I hit the ground running, straining the seams in my skirt with every step.

I stumbled into the unfamiliar forest and toward a nearby river that sparkled in the thin sunlight breaking through the clouds. Faint hope swelled in me as I drew closer to the water, and a chance at escape.

I wasn’t fast enough. Over the sound of my rasping breath I heard someone thudding along behind me, getting closer with every step. I adjusted my grip on the knife’s handle and prepared to turn and fight, but my feet went out from under me as I slipped on one of the loose, flat stones that littered the ground near the river. A sharp pain pierced my ankle as it twisted under me, and I fell.

I hadn’t even got one leg back under me when a crushing weight landed on my back, pinning my left arm beneath me. A meaty hand grabbed my wrist and squeezed. I dropped the knife and screamed as he wrenched my arm behind my back, straining my shoulder until I thought he was going to rip my arm off.

“Don’t think so, sweetheart,” the bald man snarled into my ear, his breath sickeningly wet and warm on my face. He sat up a little and I pulled in a deep breath, but I couldn’t move. Tears of pain, frustration, and fear burned my eyes, and I screamed again.

I was aware of the sound of another set of feet clattering toward us over the broken rocks, but couldn’t turn to see who it was. I had little hope at that point that it was Darryl coming to save me. The footsteps didn’t slow as they came closer. The weight on top of me shifted. “Hey, lookit what we found in the—” My attacker’s words cut off as something hit him. He collapsed back onto me, and the air rushed out of his lungs in a quick, foul breath. He rolled off, gasping.

As soon as that weight was gone I pushed with my feet, crawling toward the water and fighting to catch my breath.

Above the buzzing in my ears I heard the thug talking. “What’re you on about, she’s just a—”

He was interrupted by a cracking noise and a scream that I sincerely hoped was his. I tried to stand, but my ankle buckled, and I bit back a cry of dismay as I hit the stones. I’d reached the edge of the wide, shallow river. I was a good swimmer, but the current was moving fast and rough over mostly-submerged rocks. In my condition, I’d be dashed to pieces before I made it half-way across.

The scream stopped, and footsteps followed me, more slowly now. I’d lost my knife, but I picked up a sharp rock, flipped myself around, and pushed my back up against a boulder.

A shadow fell over me, and I looked up to see another stranger. He was far leaner than the bald one, younger and taller. The way he stood gave an impression of graceful strength that made me more afraid of him than I’d been of the mass of muscle that attacked me. The sun behind him left his face in silhouette. His hair was dark, just long enough for most of it to be pulled back and tied behind his neck.

Darmish men don’t wear their hair long like that.

He watched me, catching his breath and apparently considering my situation. I glanced back at my previous attacker, who lay flat on his stomach with his face pressed into the rocks, not moving. Nausea washed through me, and I grasped my chunk of rock so tightly that it cut into my fingers. I wasn’t about to go quietly.

The stranger stepped back, allowing sunlight to fall on his face as he watched me. I had expected a scarred warrior, but found quite the opposite. His unblemished skin and high cheekbones would have seemed more at home on a pampered aristocrat or a prince. His brows shadowed dark eyes in a stern expression that seemed familiar, though I was certain I’d never met anyone like this before. He reached up to rub a hand over the dark stubble on his jaw.

“It’s all right,” he said, his voice calm and heavily accented. He stepped around so that he was standing beside me, then crouched. In a movement that was too quick for me to follow he caught my left hand in his own. I tried to pull back, but the strength drained from my arm, and the rock clattered to the ground. I was completely at his mercy, and though he’d saved me from my attacker, something about him filled me with terror. I met his gaze, and my mouth went dry at the sight of his cold, green-flecked, brown eyes.

I’d been wrong when I thought this man was completely unfamiliar.

He let me look for a few seconds, then said, “I’m not going to hurt you. Will you listen while I explain?” His speech was clear, but his accent made everything sound strange.

I was afraid to answer. Someone yelled from near the road, and the stranger frowned.

“I’m sorry.” He reached his free hand toward my face. Blood streaked his knuckles. I flinched, expecting him to hurt me, but he only laid his hand on my forehead. The world grayed out, and I fell away as I had the first time I looked into those strange, beautiful eyes.

Chapter Eleven

Rowan

E
verything hurt.

I lay with the left side of my body pressed into a soft surface, with something wedged behind me that kept me from rolling backward. It felt like the room was rocking. Without moving my head, I opened one eye just enough to get a blurry look at my surroundings. The bed I lay in took up one end of a narrow room with boxes lining one wall, a writing desk and built-in wardrobe the other. A heavy curtain was pulled across a small window, and the only light in the room came from a pair of oil lamps. The air smelled of something sweet and herbal that I couldn’t identify. 

There didn’t seem to be anyone else in the room. I opened my other eye and lifted my head to look around a bit more.

“Welcome back,” said a smooth voice from somewhere near my feet. I froze, my flesh crawling. “Sorry I had to do that. I don’t imagine falling unconscious is fun, but I’d say you’re becoming accustomed to it by now.”

I looked toward the end of the bed and there he was—the young man with Aquila’s eyes. The rest of his face would have been attractive if those eyes weren’t so cold, or if he would smile. As it was, just looking at him frightened me in a way that seemed to come from instinct as much as it did from the situation. He leaned back in an armchair next to the end of the bed, long legs stretched out in front of him, apparently waiting for me to say something. I got the feeling he could wait all day if he had to.

“Who are you?” I asked, my voice rasping. “What’s happening?”

“My name is Aren. You’re on a trading ship bound for Tyrea. My brother Severn needs you.”

“The…” I tried to moisten my lips with my tongue. “Severn is the king, isn’t he?”

“Close enough.”

I struggled to remember what I’d heard about Ulric’s sons. I couldn’t make my thoughts line up properly. Was Aren the one who read minds? No, controlled them. Unless I was missing something, he could certainly turn into an eagle. Those eyes were unmistakable.

Aren leaned toward me. “You should know that you’re in more trouble right now than you can imagine.”

I could have guessed that,
I thought.

“I’m telling you this because you don’t have much time to decide what you’re going to do about it. Severn will—” He paused. Distant shouting echoed outside the room, and my heart beat harder, pumping fresh fear through me.

“Speaking of whom…” Aren stood and stalked to the door, then stopped and turned back to me. “I suggest you close your eyes again and that you not move until he leaves. Things will get worse for you in a hurry if he knows you’re conscious.” He came back and untied a set of white curtains that closed between the bed and the rest of the room, sheer enough that I could see out if I squinted.

There was a single hard knock at the door. Brighter lamplight flooded in from outside as Aren opened it and and a white-haired person stepped in, looked around, then closed the door.

“Where is she?” he asked. Aren gestured toward the bed, and the man who I assumed was Severn strode toward it. My eyes snapped shut just before he pulled back the curtain. His clothing rustled as he leaned over me, and I fought to keep my breathing slow and even. He smelled smoky, like my hair after I fell asleep beside an outdoor fire. I struggled to remain still, and to keep by breathing slow and even.

“This is her?” There was a sneer in his voice. “Not much to look at, is she?”

“She doesn’t usually have those bruises.” Aren sounded like he was trying not to laugh.

You bastard
.

“Has she wakened yet?”

“Not since I’ve been here. Sara was in to tend to her wounds earlier, and gave her something to keep her quiet. She’ll be fine.”

“Hmm.” Severn leaned closer for a moment, his breath tickling my skin, then stood and turned away from the bed, letting the curtains fall closed.

I took a deep, trembling breath and let my eyes open again, just enough so that I could watch.

“About that temper of yours,” Severn said.

“This was completely different. You saw what happened. Morten got carried away, and I did what was necessary to protect your interests.”

Severn’s chuckled. “I wonder whether killing him was completely necessary. Still, it’s a small loss.” He gestured toward me. “You’re certain about her? I don’t feel anything.”

“No. Whatever they’ve done to her has been effective enough to keep her magic hidden from her people for all these years.”