Page 66 of Unlikely Omega

ARIADNE

The Commander doesn’t return, and without hesitation we eat the food on the small table, stuffing ourselves with bread, cheese and peaches. I don’t touch the liquor—I’ve never had any, but Finnen pours himself a cup and downs it, then lies down on the rug by the fire, curled up like a cat, and instantly goes to sleep.

The wound in his side has been bandaged, I don’t know by whom, but that’s good. At least I don’t have to worry about his stubborn ass bleeding out. Wrapped up in the clean pants and long shirt provided by the army, he looks like a different person than the priest I knew before. He looks like a civilian now, his long white hair incongruous whereas before it seemed part of the outfit. Part of the persona of a holy man.

Not sure it was just a persona, though, I think as I lie down across from him, curling up on my side, gazing at his handsome face, relaxed in sleep. He really believes in the gods and his vows. These clothes are a disguise, nothing more. The priest is the real man.

Even like this, his scent manages to find its way into my senses, fanning the sparks in my belly, and I groan as a cramp grips me.

Is the Commander right? Am I going to go into heat? What then?

Should I even worry when it looks like we’re going to be brought to the Summer Capital anyway and end our lives there?

My heart is racing. How can Finnen sleep when this is the last night we’ll spend here before we’re loaded onto yet another wagon and taken to our deaths? Where did all the fight in him go?

He must be exhausted. We all have our limits. Any sane man would have given up by now.

Then why do I now want to fight?

Last time we were thrown into a cage and led away, Finnen had said we would find a way to escape.

Well, this time I am saying it. I will find a way. I won’t sit and let them drive me to my death. Let the Commander obey his General, roll over when told and hope his master loves him.

Humans don’t love us Fae-blooded freaks. I’ve gathered as much by now.

I’m not the General’s pet and I don’t owe the army, or the Empire for that matter, my obedience. What I need to do is find more people like me, people to help me understand what is going on with me, and hopefully Finnen will be right there with me.

And as for the handsome Commander… he’s made his choice. I won’t forgive him for it, and my body won’t stop wanting him, but that doesn’t matter.

Escape. How can we escape?

An image of Finnen grabbing the guard’s head and bashing it against the cage bars haunts me. The blood spraying from the men’s mouths and noses colors my memories of our last escape. The bodies sprawled on the ground. My kick that had sent a man down so that Finnen could finish the job.

And then I wonder how he ended up at the Temple, about his dead parents who were trying to aid Fae-blooded people, the way he fights every time, giving his body and soul to the blood thirst.

How are we going to escape again without violence? How are we going to go on living without shedding blood?

I lie all night awake, looking at him and wondering how much violence one can inflict and how much pain one can take before going mad.

Maybe we’re all mad already…

When I see the cage standing outside the camp—the cage we left behind us along with the bloodied guards—all the doubts and fears that danced on my mind overnight return to kick me in the stomach.

The cage is mocking me, a symbol of failure, a sign from the gods that the fight is far from over.

I knew that, Goddess. I didn’t need to see it to believe it.

“What is it?” Finnen is frowning. He’s gathered his long hair back, knotting it at his nape, and his cheekbones seem sharp as glass. “Why did you stop?”

“The cage,” I whisper. “They brought it here.”

“Figures,” he grunts. “Cowards.”

“I think you scared the shit out of them.”

“Good.”

The guards prod us toward the steel box and we crawl inside. I try to ignore the sinking of my heart at the familiarity of it, the memories crowing inside with us.

---