Page 12 of The Captive's Curse
“Getting some fresh air that doesn’t smell like onions or unwashed bandits,” I snapped. “At least until you came along and ruined the atmosphere. You told me not to try to escape. I’m not. So I don’t know why you care what I’m doing.”
“Unlike you, I had a bath this morning,” Enzo said loftily. “And I didn’t sleep with any vegetables.” His eyes gleamed. “Probably a good thing we didn’t put you in a room with zucchini or cucum—”
Rage struck me like boiling water poured into my chest. “Fuck you! Just because I’m a dawn mage, you fucking assho—”
“You’rewhat?”
“—le, that doesn’t mean I’m going to be shoving anything I can reach up my—wait, what do you mean I’m what? How do you not know about twilight mages?”
Twilight mages and our limitations were common knowledge. Every village had its temple, even if that was only a boulder etched with the paths of the sun and moon, Ennolu and Dromos’s celestial representatives. Dromos’s gift to humanity of magic, a previously godly attribute, and the ensuing fight between him and his brother Ennolu, was a story that everyone absorbed before they were even conscious of being told stories. Children weren’t given the more prurient details of the way dawn and dusk mages had to control our magic until they were a bit older and more mature, but adults all knew.
Enzo pushed off the wall and took a step toward me, expression intent. “I knew you were a mage, obviously. You hadn’t mentioned your dawn magic, for some reason.” His face went hard and grim. “Did you think you’d be treated differently if I knew?”
Raped. He meant raped. And it happened to dawn mages more often than people liked to acknowledge. If he’d had the slightest flippancy to his tone, I’d have tried to shove him off the battlements, hopelessly outmatched as I might have been.
But—he sounded furious. Furiously insulted. As if he believed that was the worst possible accusation that could be leveled against him.
And honestly…despite how angry I’d been to be kidnapped, and muddy, and constantly interrupted, and teased with hints about the Mad Lord’s legend, well.
I hadn’t been truly afraid of Enzo or of his men for a moment.
Because they hadn’t given me any reason to be. My sharp tongue and tendency to push probably would’ve gotten me badly beaten at best in the hands of some other bandits.
“It didn’t seem relevant,” I said at last, resisting the irritating and unwarranted urge to apologize. Damn it. Perhaps I’d failed to appreciate how gently I’d been handled. That said, I’d made no implications or assumptions about his honor, either. I simply hadn’t told him something that was none of his business. “And if you don’t want to be taken for someone who’d treat a dawn mage poorly, don’t make remarks about how you think I’d use phallic vegetables in unnatural ways.”
“I already said, I didn’t know you were a dawn mage!”
“You shouldn’t be accusing anyone of wanting to fuck a zucchini, Enzo!”
His name hung in the air between us, somehow hovering still and steady despite the gusty wind.
He took another step forward, eyes narrowed. No, I wouldn’t stumble back like a coward, damn it.
“I thought we weren’t to use one another’s names until we’d been formally introduced. Not even with titles.”
“You, ah,” I stammered, at a loss. I hadn’t meant to address him that way. His name had simply tripped off my tongue. “My apologies, Ser Unshaven, Unkempt Ruffian. It won’t happen again.”
Another step forward, his big, booted feet oddly silent in their tread, like a giant cat. Now I had to tip my head back in order to keep an eye on him. Also like a predator, he seemed like someone who might pounce if I allowed my attention to wander.
“You’re right that I shouldn’t be accusing anyone of fucking a zucchini,” he said very seriously. Too seriously. The glint in his eye suggested otherwise. “They’re spiny and rough, and using one of those would show incredibly poor judgment, especially if you had a cucumber available. Although I suppose those can be spiny too. You might need to peel it first.”
“Peelit first? You think I’d put something that slimy up—oh, go fuck yourself with every vegetable you can find,” I hissed, feeling my cheeks go red-hot with frustrated annoyance as his half smile ticked up a notch. The bastard was riling me up on purpose, and I’dfallenfor it.
“I’d be more tempted by something soft,” he said blandly, and raised an eyebrow.
No. No, I would not rise to that fresh bait.
But gods. Something soft. Perhaps a peach. That gave me some vivid visions in my mind, far more than I wanted or needed. It was just as well I’d be leaving, with or without material for my song. I could use my imagination for something other than picturing Enzo balls deep in something sweet and juicy.
“We ought to go and meet your messenger,” I gritted out. “Surely he’s arrived by now.”
“Of course.” He waved a hand toward the stairs. “After you, Lord Only Fucks Things That Aren’t Slimy.”
“Well, that leaves you out,” I muttered, and turned for the stairs.
Enzo’s low laughter followed me through the doorway. “As I already told you,Ibathed this morning,” he said.
I chose to ignore him except for a flick of my mud-encrusted hair. Damn him. Thank the gods I’d never see him again after today.
