Page 36 of Unlikely Omega

I don’t know what it means.

“Be ready when we stop,” Finnen says and I jerk at the sound of his voice after almost a day of silence.

“Ready to do what exactly?”

“You’ll see.”

I swallow a sigh. “I’m not a warrior, you know. Or an acrobat or a skulking thief with amazing skills at breaking out of cages.”

“You’re an acolyte who has trained all her life in the Maiden Goddess’ rituals. You’re strong and resourceful and disciplined. You can do it.”

“You think too highly of me all of a sudden,” I whisper, and holy goddess, I hurt. I need. “I don’t know anything much outside of the rituals.”

“Then watch and learn,” he says.

I don’t know what his plan is, but as the light in the sky begins to fade, the guards riding beside us start to make noises about stopping for the night.

Exhaustion makes me feel sick. My muscles protest at being curled up in a ball all day inside the cage, my insides all twisted up over Finnen, and my head is pounding like a drum.

When it starts raining, it’s a relief to open my mouth and let water slide down my parched throat. Soon enough my robe is plastered to my body, my hood offering no protection. The frigid water runs over my face, between my breasts, between my legs, and at least the cold offers some slight relief from the ache burning inside me, numbing me pleasantly.

“Over here!” one of the riders calls out, galloping off to one side. “I’ve found us shelter.”

Finnen stirs a little from his crouch, and if my muscles are cramping, I wonder how he can still move after sitting like that all day. He’s still muttering something. A prayer, maybe?

The coachman snaps the reins and we rattle off to the left, where the ruins of a farmhouse come into view, washed by the rain and cast into shades of ghostly gray by the gathering dusk. A few trees line one side and parts of the roof still seem to be standing.

The other rider canters off ahead as we follow more slowly. My teeth are starting to chatter from the cold. I can’t feel my feet or hands.

“What a gods-forsaken place,” the coachman grumbles as we roll over stones and into hollows, rocking from side to side. “All to bring you two worthless scums to the Summer Capital, and for what? Might as well kill you here and save ourselves the rest of the journey.”

Finnen shifts, moving closer to the side of the cart, jostling me a little. He’s quiet now, water dripping off his pale lashes. His white hair is stuck to his face and neck, and his robe clings to his powerful shoulders and chest, and I groan quietly at myself as the ache between my legs pulses.

Honestly, body…

The first rider comes cantering back from the ruined farmhouse and slows to a walk as he reaches Finnen’s side of the cart. “Look at them. Do they look dangerous to you? What the fuck is the purpose of all this?”

“Shut up,” the coachman says. “They have Fae blood in their veins. It’s time we did away with all the Fae, once and for all.”

“I don’t see it,” the rider says, turns his horse around and accompanies us to the ruins. “We should build a fire and dry our clothes.”

“Afraid to catch a sniffle, Gereth?”

“Fuck you.”

The wooden wheels roll over cracked tiles, shattering them. The broken slabs of the roof overhead offer at least some protection from the rain. I wipe water off my face as we roll to a stop, the horses huffing and snuffling and shaking their manes.

The two riders have already dismounted and the coachman jumps off the cart to tie the reins on a post.

“You, priest.” He approaches Finnen. “You’ll suffer for snubbing the gods. I have a mind to punish you myself.”

Unthinking, I reach for Finnen, to somehow pull him out of the way, but he doesn’t move and doesn’t reply. His head tilts, turns a little, as if he’s listening to something.

“Hey, are you paying attention?” The coachman grabs Finnen’s arm through the bars and pulls him against them. “You ever been up close and personal with a hot stake? I can make that happen. My patience is already running thin. Try me.”

“He’s not worth your time,” one of the riders, the one called Gereth, says, taking off his sodden cloak and draping it over a low wall. We must be in what used to be the stables. “Come help me gather wood for the fire.”

“While they sit in the cage? I say we make them do the work for us.”

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