Page 99 of The War and Deceit Series omnibus

“I don’t want to say anything until I’m sure, but I have an idea,” he tells me, and as I frown and open my mouth to demand he shares what he knows, he holds up his hand to halt my questions. “I need to speak with my people to be sure. We have huge libraries that are full of knowledge…We might even find out what makes you different.”

He’s dangling it like a carrot for a donkey, trying to convince me this is the best plan, but I don’t understand why this is so important to him.

“Why?” I press, pushing up so I’m standing. He does the same, and I close the gap between us, glaring up at him with my hands balled into fists. I don’t know why I’m so angry at him all of a sudden, but his answer seems really important.

“Why what?”

“Why do you want me to go with you?” I want to grab his shirt and shake him, make him see sense.

“What are your other options? If you don’t come with me, where will you go?”

I hadn’t expected him to turn the questions around on me, and I scramble for an answer, but I only have one thought going through my head. Is that the only reason he’s inviting me? Because he feels guilty and he pities me?

“I…I could try and find Grayson, he would help me.” I know for sure Grayson would help me, hide me, but do I want to bring him into all this? Make him betray his country to help me? Besides, how would I find him? I have no idea where he and the other high magicians went, not to mention I’ve never left Arhaven or the farm I once worked on, I don’t know our country at all.

As if he can read my mind, he just shakes his head, shooting down my idea immediately. “You would never make it to him on your own.”

“I could go to one of the cities and make a new life for myself there.” As soon as I say it, I know it’s not a viable option. But when Vaeril immediately shakes his head, my anger flares up again.

“You have no money, no family or friends, you would never make it.”

I growl, my anger getting the better of me as I throw my hands in the air in frustration, taking a step closer so our chests are almost touching.

“Fine, say I go with you, follow you to your home, what then?” I demand, his eyes darkening with something I don’t recognise, but I don’t stop. “The elves are going to accept me with open arms? Even if they did, what then? Where would I live, or work?” My voice gets louder as I speak, getting more and more frustrated. “You will go back to your life and your family, while I have nothing.”

I’m not really angry at him, but at what he has, his possibilities, all the things I don’t have. His face softens and he raises a hand to my face, catching a tear on my cheek. I hadn’t even realised I was crying. I angrily swipe my tears away, not wanting to look weak in front of him. Frowning, he catches my hands.

“Clarissa.” I ignore him, pulling my hands away and trying to take a step back, put some space between us. I hate that face, the pitying look he gives me. “Alina.” I freeze. He called me that before, when I first managed to break the spell on his cuff. The word has power, and as before, I feel it settle over me. He told me in his cultureAlinameans ‘my salvation.’ Why does the name feel right? I already have a name, Clarissa, given to me bymy friend, one of the only things I have left from Grayson. I don’t need another one, yet that slumbering part of me seems to wake.

“Why do you call me that?” My voice is deceptively calm.

“Names have power in my culture, and some people are blessed with their true name. This came to me that night, and as soon as I spoke it, I knew it was your true name.” He closes the gap between us again and I have to crane my neck to look up at him, our bodies so close I can feel the heat coming off him. “It’s fitting,” he murmurs in a low voice, and arousal starts to build within me.

Not the right time, body, I scold myself, ignoring the sensation. He’s just being nice, comforting me. Convincing myself that he doesn’t have any romantic feelings for me is easy, and I open my mouth to say something, but what that was going to be, I’m not sure, because I see the moment he scents my desire. His nostrils flare slightly, his eyes flashing as his pupils dilate like I’ve just given him his favourite perfume, and a low humming emits from his throat. He shifts his weight, and I know if I don’t act, we might do something we’ll both regret. Raising my hand, I place it on his chest to stop him from coming any closer.

I clear my throat, and wait until he lifts his gaze from touch and looks me in the eyes. “I’ll come with you.”

“It will be warmer when we reach the forest,” Vaeril assures me, as I cling to my cloak, the wicked winter winds trying to tear the fabric from my hands. Although winter is turning to spring, the wind is still cold and icy in the early morning and late evenings. Morrowmer, the land where Arhaven is built, is a harsh landscape with very little foliage for cover, and as such we can see for miles. It makes escaping without being seen difficult.

After a terrifying climb from the cave back up the rockface, we hurry along the edge of the cliff. It’s dangerous. The ground has crumbled and worn away in places thanks to the battering it receives from the wind eroding the stone. Large, jagged shards of rock stick up from the ground, which gives us some concealment as we run from one to the other. They’re made of black stone, like that of the cliffs, but remind me of sharp, glistening teeth, and I know I’ll have dreams of being trapped in a giant monster’s gaping maw.

“How far is the forest?” I wish I didn’t sound so out of breath, but my chest is burning. I might have been active as a slave, but that strength came from carrying heavy things and being on my feet all day. Running stamina, I’ve quickly learned, is not something I have much of.

“I can see it now,” he answers from behind the stalagmite type structure we’re hiding behind, squinting into the distance.

I try to do the same and can only see the seemingly unending cliff edge. The benefit of the landscape being so flat is that we can see if we’re being followed. At the moment, we appear to be getting away unnoticed, which I thank the Mother for regularly.

“Are you ready to move on?” he asks, and I simply nod, knowing if I speak my voice will give me away. I understand he’s frustrated that we’re moving at such a slow pace, but unless he’s going to leave me behind, there is nothing to be done about it.

He darts from behind the rock and I follow behind, my chest aching as I try to focus on taking slow, deep breaths. My borrowed boots, while keeping my feet dry, are rubbing at my feet, and the cold makes my bones shake. The only benefit of running is that I get so hot I don’t feel the cold as much. I would never say any of this to Vaeril, we’ve both suffered far worse, but I hate that I sound so whiny in my own head. If I wasn’t so out of breath, I would try to start up a conversation, but I’ve learned he’s not exactly chatty, and I have very little to talk about, so silence seems like the best option.

I’m not sure how long we’ve been travelling. The sun was just rising when we left this morning, and now it’s high in the sky. Looking up, I try to work out how far in its cycle it is when a shadow falls over me, followed by the cry of a large bird.

I know that sound.

My heart thuds in my chest as I freeze, jumping behind one of the rocks and using my hand to shield my eyes from the sun as I try to identify the bird. The sound is something that will staywith me until the day I die, one I know well, but I have to see it to know if I’m right. I desperately pray I’m not.

The bird is high above us, but even so, I can tell it’s huge, its dark feathered body easy to see in the unusually clear sky. It glides on the thermals as it searches for its prey. As it swoops lower, I see the small green band around its leg and I know I was right.

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