Page 148 of The War and Deceit Series omnibus

Thanks to the sleeveless outfit I’m wearing, my marks are all on display and stand out against my pale, alabaster skin. Lifting my wrist, I turn it around to expose the marks. “Slave, remember?” His eyes lock onto the brands, his expression turning fierce. Suddenly feeling awkward, I quickly drop my arm and press it to my side so it’s hidden from view. Showing off my marks is not something I feel comfortable with. In fact, back in Arhaven, Ihadto hide them. If anyone saw them, it would’ve been a death sentence, so now it feels uncomfortable when they’re not covered.

Eldrin watches my movements with a frown, and although the marks are now hidden, he stares at my arms. “I remember.”He pulls his gaze up, his expression somber as he meets my eyes, and for a moment, I think he’s going to try to comfort me or say something kind. “I had hoped that it would make you stronger. I have no idea how you survived for twelve years when you can’t even run ten laps.”

Shaking my head as he returns back to his surly self, I take a deep, calming breath, and I have to remind myself that having an argument with him out here in the open would be a bad idea. “Running wasn’t exactly something they encouraged,” I reply with an eye roll, pretending that his comments don’t bother me when, in fact, they do.

How dare he say I’m not strong. I’ve survived torture, punishments, brandings, near starvation, and backbreaking labour.Memories flash through my mind, trying to take over my calm and invade my thoughts. One of the only ways to survive as a slave in Arhaven was to push the memories of what happened to you deep, deep down, and to not think about it. But something about Eldrin brings them back. I don’t want to relive them, and certainly not in front of him, so I won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing me fall apart.

When I open my eyes, they’re steely as I glare at the elf. “Besides, being able to run has nothing to do with strength,” I point out. Strength doesn’t always have to be physical. Mental strength gets you through dire situations. I get the feeling, however, that Eldrin wouldn’t appreciate that sort of strength, he needs a physical representation. “I carried Vaeril through the forest to get us here.”

He winces at the reminder of his friend being in such a poor condition, but my words seem to make him reconsider his judgement. Eyes narrowing, he nods his head at whatever conclusion he’s come to. “Okay, princess, show me how strong you are.” Opening his arms theatrically, he bobs into a mockingbow and gestures for me to head over to the weights that are stacked up against the far wall.

The training space is a walled off section of grass behind the stables. A running track has been worn into the grass, and a sparring ring lies in the center. The back wall is full of equipment that I might have thought was torture gear if he hadn’t told me. Although, I’m sure whatever Eldrin has planned for me will feel like torture.

“Stop calling me that,” I mutter under my breath, as I start walking back towards the equipment, although calling my painful hobble a walk is a stretch.

He snorts as he falls into step beside me, and I can feel his gaze on me. I bet he’s enjoying every minute of this. “Oh, you don’t like it? That’s a shame.” I can hear the smile in his voice, and I know I was right, he’s loving this.

“Why are you being such a bastard today?” I practically growl, as I spin around and glare at him. He looks like he’s not going to give it a rest, so I throw my arm out and grab his wrist, gripping hard and yanking him to a stop with all my weight. He stumbles to a halt, looking at me in shock. Letting go of his wrist as if it’s on fire, I hurriedly step back to put some space between us and try not to look as startled as I feel.

His expression quickly changes, the shock melting away to a blank mask, but I think I see a flash of pain in his eyes. However, he turns away before I can be sure. “I’m always a bastard, get used to it,” he spits out as he skulks away.

Frowning at his back, I can’t help but feel like I’ve offended him. “Eldrin—”

“Over to the weights. Now.”

I feel like he’s giving me whiplash. One second, he shows me a moment of vulnerability, and just when I think he actually has a heart, he’ll turn back into the scowling, surly elf. It makes me want to scream. No one winds me up like he does. I’m usuallypretty good at controlling my emotions, it was a necessity in my past, but something about him rips away all of my filters.

Trudging my way over to the rack of weights where Eldrin is waiting, I go through the motions of lifting the weights as he demands. I struggle with it, even after he shows me better techniques on how to lift. After watching me and criticising, he tries something different and stalks away. I stand there, panting in the shade, wondering where he disappeared to. After a couple of minutes, he comes back with several sacks of flour and begins tying a rope to the top of one of the bags. Throwing the end of the rope at me, he instructs me to pull the flour behind me. So, that’s how I find myself trudging around the running track with sacks of flour over my shoulders. It’s easier to carry them on my shoulders than drag them behind me, something I’d been used to doing as a slave. After a couple of laps, he gives me another sack, and so it continues. I’m getting hot, and the bags are heavy, but it’s all been manageable.

A whistle catches my attention, and when I look up, I see Eldrin gesturing for me to return to him. Cutting across the field, I drop the bags of flour at his feet and roll my shoulders to ease the soreness there. Breathing deeply, I put my hands on my hips as I wait for him to say whatever it was he called me over here for.

“You’re stronger than I anticipated,” he muses reluctantly. “Much stronger than a normal human.” He sounds like he’s talking to himself more than me, but that part catches my attention. Stronger than a normal human? Does that mean I have the strength of the elves? I remember when I grabbed Eldrin’s arm earlier and pulled him to a stop. I hadn’t expected him to actually stop, and his expression was just as shocked as I’d felt. I hadn’t thought about it much at the time.

Seeing my expression, he frowns, realising that he just complimented me. “You’re still weaker than most elves, andyou’re too skinny, we need to work on that,” he points out, almost sounding like he’s backpedalling as he tries to make up for the fact that he was almost nice to me.

I don’t even bother to respond. I’m exhausted, both physically and mentally, and I don’t have the energy to fight with him. Slowly, I go through a series of stretches, working out my sore muscles. I know he’s watching me. He’s confused as to why I’m not snapping back at him.

“What’s wrong with you?” he demands, but I don’t even bother to look up. He makes a low growling noise in his throat, and I know if I don’t answer him, he’ll just get pissy.

“I’m tired, Eldrin.” My voice is weary as I drop down into a sitting position, rubbing at the cuffs of the trousers around my ankles. I’d been grateful for them earlier, since they hid the scars from my manacles, but right now, the feeling of the fabric rubbing against my skin is triggering memories of my time as a slave.

“Come on, princess, is a little bit of exercise too much for you?” he sneers, but his voice sounds off, like he doesn’t really mean what he’s saying.

I don’t respond, focusing instead on pushing down the memories that are trying to force their way up.

“Are you injured?” His voice is softer now as he drops into a crouch in front of me. Reaching out, he goes to touch one of my ankles. As soon as I spot the movement and his finger brushes my skin, panic flares to life in my chest. A ragged scream rips from my throat as I scramble backwards. Phantom hands reach out to grab me, to put me back in chains. I can feel Eldrin’s horrified gaze on me, not to mention the other elves training in the space, but I can’t think about them right now, I’m fighting to separate the present from the past.

“Not the chains,” I moan, curling up into a protective ball as my memories overwhelm me. My hands pull at the cuffs on myankles, desperate to get them off. As I look at them, the fabric turns to metal then back to fabric and so on as my past trauma takes over.

“Clarissa!” Eldrin shouts, but his voice barely breaks through my panic fogged brain. I can see him on his knees in front of me now, leaning forward with his fist clenched in his lap as if he wants to reach out and shake me.

“Not the chains!” I plead, tears tracking down my face. I’m too far into my terror to pick apart what is real and what’s not.

“Clarissa! Look at me!” he demands loudly, sounding angry, but it’s still not enough to break through. “Look at me.” I do as he says. “Good. You are safe. No one is going to hurt you here.” His voice is calm now, gentle. Seeing me pull at the cuffs on my ankles, he frowns and puts two and two together, realising what’s setting me off. “No cuffs,” he agrees. Reaching out, he takes the cuff of the trouser and tears it, instantly freeing my ankle.

Gasping, I take a deep, shuddering breath as I look down at my now free ankle. “I’m safe. I’m safe,” I repeat to myself, focusing on the raised, scarred skin. Eldrin’s sudden movement makes me flinch, but he just does the same to the other cuff.

“That’s it. Take deep breaths, allow the bad memories to flow out of you with each exhale.” Eldrin’s voice has taken on a calming tone as he instructs me, the kind you would use with a startled horse. If I wasn’t so traumatised, I’d probably find that amusing.

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