Page 9 of The King has Fallen

The camp sprawled in a bowl of land that lay at the foot of the largest rock formations in this area. However, the strategic position for scouts and patrols left daily life wallowing in the mud of the hollow.

Hundreds of soldiers tents and campfires lay in an ever-widening spiral around the central, critical structures: The stables that housed our animals—a tent so large it was practically a pavilion and the only place we erected temporary fences—the segmented tents and bivouacs for medical aid, cook tents, blacksmiths, weaponry masters, hounds and handlers, and the countless other resources and people that were needed to keep an army alive and winning. And of course, the Royal marquee just south and west of center, because I’d urged Gault to make use of the rise of the land to position himself in a place even harder to be reached by enemies, and protected on every side by every able-bodied warrior in camp.

Or so I’d thought.

Here I was, shoving not just an enemy, but a fuckingfemaleahead of me through camp.

When we reached the intersection of main paths—scattered with hay every couple of days in an attempt to keep the mudfrom actually sucking off our boots—I hesitated, considering which route was best to take her to my tent.

We were already drawing attention. Neph walking the paths or working alongside them, stopped to look and point at the prisoner. Surprised and curious, they called to their brothers to come see me marching a Fetch by her hair.

Between the scent and sight of a fresh woman, the stories would precede me to dinner tonight. Gritting my teeth, I chose the path that wove between the soldier’s tents and the stables. It would take longer, but we would meet fewer Neph and be less likely to incite a frenzy.

Leaning closer to the guard at my right—a young but strong male with amber eyes—I looked around to make sure there was no one else close enough to hear.

“Go see the Handlers. I need anemptyhound cage brought to my tent immediately—in full working order. If they ask why, or try to delay, tell them the order comes directly from the King.”

“Yes, Sir!” His surprise was plain, but he didn’t question me, sprinting off in the direction of the stable-tents as I steered the Fetch, ignoring the shocked and amused looks of the men we passed.

I tipped my head at the next guard following at my heels and eyed her so he’d know not to speak openly in front of her.

“Has Jann been advised that I’m back in camp?” I asked quickly.

“Who, sir?” the young man asked nervously. I had to fight not to grind my teeth.

“Find a messenger and tell them that General Handras is personally sending for Jannus the Halfling—I need him in my tent as quickly as possible, delaying only if it affects our efforts in battle.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Another young man dispatched, another short tug of war with the Fetch who was trying to turn to meet my eye over her shoulder, but I wouldn’t allow it.

Somehow I needed to bathe her. And to delay our arrival at my tent so that the cage would already be in place. And then I needed Jann’s eagle eye on the entire picture—how the hell to make use of her, to test her insight and ensure it was true, and then to get to the battlefield myself to win this fucking thing when there wereAethereansinvolved.

Fuckingfuck!

I inhaled deeply to calm myself, then regretted it immediately when I was drenched in the stench of mud and animal shit because we were close to the stable-tents. But as we rounded a corner on the trail and a handful of young guards cheered my name from behind me, a water trough caught my eye.

For the first time since I’d walked into the King’s tent, I smiled.

Two birds with one stone.

Sending a glance over my shoulder to the guards still following me, I warned them. “Stand back.”

They frowned, but slowed their pace as I wrapped an arm around her waist, lifted her to my shoulder, then took the two steps to the trough and dropped her into it, clothes and all.

Her muffled squeal was quickly silenced by the water. Taken by surprise and fully submerged in the narrow space, it took her a moment to realize her hands were free and she could grab the sides to lift herself out.

Every Neph in sight was laughing by the time she shoved herself up, displacing water in a noisy slosh that seemed too large for her small frame. Waves splashed to join the puddles in the mud when she reared out of the water, grasping for the metalside of the trough and bending, slumping against it, her shaking hands grabbing for purchase on its lip to keep herself upright.

I waited for the deep, wheezing inhale through her nose since the ball gag likely kept her from breathing through her mouth, but there was nothing. Just a bedraggled Fetch, sagging over the side of the trough, strands of her hair plastered to her face, her shoulders heaving… yet no sound.

The others continued to laugh and jeer, the younger ones moving on with their day, unaware of what she was, probably assuming she was just a human slave who’d been captured and brought back for whatever use I would put her to.

Then one of her hands slid off the top of the trough, and she dropped awkwardly against its side, her feet sliding out so that she slipped back into the water and—

I cursed, catching her by her hair as she was about to slide under the surface again and yanking her up to a sitting position. Which was when I saw how wide her eyes were, and how pale her skin.

Her lips, which had been invitingly rosy and plump when she was taunting the King, were now stretched wide over that ball and as white as her cheeks.

---