Page 145 of Feathers of Ash and Hope

The man walks backand forth in front of me while I look straight ahead at the forest, which taunts me with the hope of escape.

Who is he? And what does he want?

As if he heard my questions, he starts to talk.

“I saw you, you know.” The man laughs cruelly. “He attacked a dragon for you. How very heroic.” He stops in front of me. “How about I add a little tragedy to your love story?” My stomach drops, but I don’t react, not that I could have without giving myself away. He runs his hands over my shoulders, pushing the ripped shirt down my arms before he traces my scars. Inside my head, I scream and rage at him to take his hands off me.

“What do you think”—he looks at me, contemplating—“if I offer you up all bloody and weak, will he sacrifice himself to rescue you?” His assessing gaze runs over me, and I want tocover myself. But I keep my curse in check and stay as still as he commanded.

My mind scrambles for a way out of this, for something to defend myself with. But the only weapons around is the knife he took from me. He starts running a blade up and down my arm, scraping lightly without causing real harm…yet.

“He didn’t like the dragon cutting you, but he does seem to like scars,” he muses. He sneers while he traces a long scar running down my arm—a sword practice accident when I was fourteen. I imagine slapping his hand away.

“Let’s add some for him to admire.” He runs the dagger along my collarbone next, softly at first, increasing the pressure gradually until it bites into my skin. I gasp at the pain, clenching my teeth to keep from screaming.I will not give him that satisfaction.

The trickle of blood is warm on my chilled skin, and the cut burns long after he stopped, but I can’t see it, so I try my best to ignore it.

Think, Ara.

“I waited for you at the base, and you didn’t disappoint. The way he held you when you got back. Just think how fascinating it became when I found out that the female visitor never left, but a Grayson Summer never returned the evening before.”

He circles me, and I probably would have flinched every time the cold steel touches my skin if his magic hadn’t prevented me from doing so.The next cut draws a quiet hiss from my lips.

“It seems the prince has a weakness for you.”

Prince?

He must see the confusion in my eyes because he laughs. “Oh, he didn’t tell you, did he? It’s rather tragic, I guess.” He chuckles, clearly enjoying this. His talking buys me time to think, but I have a hard time ignoring him when he talks about Tate.

I glare at him, and he laughs.

“He won’t stop me. You won’t save him. Accept it.” He says it like it’s a fact and shakes his head when I keep glaring.

I will not accept that.

“Playing hero is a very ungrateful role, or have you seen anyone thanking your dear prince? He resigned to save the day and earns nothing but hate.” My heart squeezes painfully for Tate and everything he endured. No wonder he kept anyone at arm’s length.

Then another thought strikes, and I’m stunned. He resigned…that means Tate had been the crown prince, so unless we are talking about another country here…

I was betrothed to Tate for half my life?

The man keeps talking, but I don’t hear anything over the ringing in my ears. Hope unfurls in my chest and determination. I will go along with my family's plan, but the original one. He has given up so much, but I won’t give up on him. I want Tate, and I will find a way to make it happen, but first, I have to get away.

“And now you will help me settle his debt,” he ends, but I’ll be damned if I do.

I let my eyes roam, looking for anything to take him down.

There is the fire, but he’s much heavier than me, and I’m not sure I’ll manage to push him that far. My gaze catches on the stones surrounding the fire.

I wait until he’s behind me before I lunge for them.

“You bitch.” He tackles me from behind, landing on me and knocking the air out of my lungs. My fingers are just short of reaching the stones. I stretch but lose focus when he slams my face into the ground.

A blinding pain explodes from my nose outward, the sickening crack telling me more than I want to know. His full weight on my back and his hand pressing my face into the dirt makes it hard to breathe.

I buck and wriggle, trying to throw him off, but it’s no use.

“You are a lively thing, I give you that. Maybe we should have a little fun before I hand you over. What do you think?” I stiffen, panic bubbling up inside me.

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