Page 44 of Warlords, Witches & Wolves

Absolon removed the keys from the lock and closed the door, shutting them both inside. “Stand up.” He held the smallest of the three keys in one hand and his other hand flat.

His heart kicked up its rhythm. He could get out. The keys were so close. He could snatch them from Absolon’s grip, throw the blanket over him and strike him across the head with the stool, buying time to unlock the manacles and the door and run.

Only it wouldn’t work, and his desire to flee was somewhat tempered. Better to be prepared than foolish.

He stood, kept his fists tight beneath the blanket. “What are you doing?”

“I can’t have you getting sick.”

“I told you I’m fine.”

“And I’m telling you you’re not. You’re covered in gooseflesh and shivers rack your body. Do as you’re told for once.”

Ragnar smiled benevolently.

“Don’t look at me like that. Give me your hand.”

He placed his manacled right wrist onto Absolon’s waiting palm.

“Don’t try anything.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Ragnar’s smile broadened.

Absolon grumbled and undid one manacle, watching him the whole time, ready for anything he might do. But he was not about to fuck up this gift. Ruining Absolon’s trust now would only put him further from an escape. His need to play fast and get out faster was replaced with a smarter strategy. Absolon had shown how much he cared for and needed him. A whole month together would be more than enough. Hell, with the way Absolon was behaving, he only needed a few more days.

He lifted his arm free of the shackle and held up his other. Absolon monitored him, but seeing no subterfuge, he let the chain drop. It hit the ground with a clang. He unfastened the other manacle.

I’m free.Ragnar rubbed his wrists gently; the skin having worn away close to bleeding. He fought a wince.

“Do they hurt?”

“No, and if they did, it would be no more than I deserve.” He shucked off the blanket from around his shoulders, folded and put it on the stool, then pulled the shirt over his body and tied the cords at his neck. The chill and the irritation of coarse wool on his skin abated. “Thank you.” He picked up the chains where they’d fallen and held them up for his bondage to be reinstated.

Absolon took up the manacles in a daze, as if he didn’t expect such compliance and was rightly wary of a trap, but he bound him just the same.

The irons weighed heavier on Ragnar’s wrists, a small protest after feeling so light and free, a sinking regret that perhaps he should have taken his chance. At least then he’d have died a hero, a warrior who had never succumbed to another’s will. But heroes of old had always been wily and there would come a time when he could work his way free without needing to rely on luck. He could wait.

Absolon let him go but Ragnar reached out slowly and touched his hand, gentle and tender. Absolon froze.

“What happened to you, Sol?”

Absolon withdrew from his cold caress.

“Who did this to you? Who made you into this?”

“You did.” Absolon hurried to the door and stuck the key in the lock.

“If only I had such power. Whatreallyhappened? Let me know the full weight of my sins.”

Absolon leant his forehead against the door and sighed, submitting his whole body to it. “What do you think happened to me?”

“If I believed in fairy tales, I’d say some elf found you and granted you a few wishes, making you strong and deadly, and gifting you with the power to seek your revenge.”

“And what would I have given for that?”

Ragnar smiled. This was just some game. Absolon could have easily made himself stronger through lifting heavier and heavier things. He could have trained himself to be faster. The way he killed the men, though…surely there was a reasonable explanation. Poison touch? Concealed knife?

But he’d play along.

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