Chapter 10

Chapter 10: Aine 

He was an arrogant slippery b*****d who ignored her more often than not. And he was a damn good fighter, she hated that too. Not that she was surprised. He was a kingsman after all, but damn it! She didn’t like not being able to land even one blow on the prick. And she had tried. Every single time they had stopped or he had come close. But not once had she gotten the drop on him. Not once had she made so much as a scratch. And to add insult to injury, he had taken her weapons! The nerve! She was still seething over the way he had felt her up to check for weapons. She liked to think she was decent in looks but the way he had patted her down had been precise and cold. Not that she wanted him to touch her in that way, or at all for that matter! 

Two days had passed since they left the Nahati. And it was the same every day; clipped, basically one-sided, conversations, during which she asked questions and he rarely deigned to reply; her attacking him whenever she could, studying his reactions in the hopes of learning his patterns; and then a meager meal and restless sleep. 

Fortunately, it hadn’t all been a waste. She watched him closely, studying his habits and body language. Not that this was easy, with his hood pulled up all times other than when they were riding hard. She had tried to urge her horse forward once to see his face uncovered but he had turned both their steeds in circles before they slowed and he pulled his hood up. It had made her dizzy and nauseous, and she didn’t particularly want to throw up the meager food and liquids that her stomach contained. So she hadn’t tried again. 

Another time, when she had thought he was asleep she had snuck up to him to take a peek. When her fingers had been a hands breath away he had grabbed her wrist stopping her. She had been so shocked that she hadn’t even struggled. then he had taken her hand like a noble would and kissed the top of her hand. That had broken her shocked stupor and she had swung her free fist at his face. He had caught it, laughing, before pushing her back to fall on her butt. She had kicked sand at him. He had blocked most of it with his cloak, however, to her satisfaction he hadn’t been fast enough to block it all and had coughed several times before rubbing his face, still aggravatingly hidden in shadow. She had grinned broadly at her small triumph as she returned to her sleeping sack nestled by her horse.

But his action, kissing her hand as if she was precious, along with his lack of cruelty, baffled her. While he had kept her tied up, he hadn’t hurt her. In fact, when the rope had begun to chafe her wrists, he had carefully treated and bandaged them before re-tying them. Of course, to her utter aggravation, he had first tied her ankles so she couldn’t escape while he did so. She couldn’t fathom what his motives were. She was his enemy, or at least the enemy of his king. And the king had never spared any kindness for her or her people. Plus, he was a kingsman, trained as the kings personal elite. Maybe he was just doing it to throw her off guard. But she didn’t think so. He was too… sincere… as weird as that sounded even to her.

She watched him from her perch atop her horse. He was tall, lean, and dark-haired but that was all she could tell from his spot atop his galloping horse. And why did she get the She had a feeling she knew him. That she had seen him somewhere… no, it was more than that. She didn’t understand it herself, seeing as she had never actually seen his face. So why did she feel a tug at the back of her mind, the teasing of a distant memory that she couldn’t grasp? She growled in frustration, still watching him. 

To distract herself, she looked out over the endless desert. Half the night had already passed, the moon’s light casting the land into deep velvety shades of grey and silver, the sand appearing like an endless undulating ocean, or at least what she thought the ocean would look like. She had never been to the ocean. Her father had promised to take her one day. But he had never gotten the chance. Instead, he’d died. 

A cool breeze swept goose bumps across her flesh. He had died, right in front of her eyes. No, she couldn’t think about it. her breaths came faster, her heart pounding painfully behind her ribcage, a trapped sparrow trying desperately to escape. She was so cold. Pain lanced her palms as she stared blankly through the trees as her father struggled on the muddy road. She couldn’t move, her limbs all rooted in place, as if she was just another tree, watching on as a guard unsheathed his sword. The shing of steal on steal ringing through her skull, vibrating through the forest. No, no, no! she screamed, but no a sound left her lips. The other guards watched on, making no move to stop the death about to take place. 

Pleading could be heard from the woman hanging from two of the other guard’s hands. Her mother. She watched on as her father yanked his arms, restrained just like her mother on either side by guards. He growled before spitting on the front of the armed guard’s feet. Then a flash of steal. That's all she saw. A quick flash through the sizzling rain. Then the sword was impaling her father's chest, going clean through, blood dripping from the tip sticking out of his back. Everything stilled, even the rain slowed to hang suspended in the air as if the world held its breath.

A violent scream shattered the world as time rushed forward. Her mother bucked and cursed and screamed as they hauled her toward the prison cart. A bright light quickly grew in her chest expanding in a violent blast, blinding Aine for a second. When her vision cleared, she saw that the two men holding her had been knocked to the ground. they lay there motionless. Her mothers scrambled for her dead husband, sprawled on the ground. She cradled his body, rocking back and forth.

Everything blurred as rain and tears streamed down Aine’s face. Her knees had buckled and her palms hurt but she still gripped the tree, her only lifeline in this world. She couldn’t see much after that, except for the blurry image of her mother being hauled off of her father and carted away. 

“H…”

Everything swam in front of her eyes, the scene fading as new forms took shape around her.

“Hey…” 

Who’s there… the voice was so far away. everything began shaking, a tight grip wrapping around both of her upper arms. No, no, no! She thrashed. She wouldn’t, couldn’t be taken away like her mother. She wouldn’t go without a fight. She wouldn’t!

“Hey!” gruff voice pierced her before a sharp sting lit up her right cheek. She immediately stilled, the world coming back into focus, still slightly blurry. A face appeared before her. Clear silver eyes, like bright twinkling stars in a never-ending night. Skin as pale as the moon, hair as black as a moonless night. She could feel herself being drawn into those eyes. why did she feel like she knew them… Their tenderness, their depthless emotions she couldn’t identify, the pain and fear that haunted them. She slowly reached up, feathering her fingers across his cool skin. His skin was so cool. His gaze softened as his eyes fluttered closed as he leaned into her touch. He looked into her eyes, studying her. What did he see, she wondered. And why were these eyes, this face, so familiar? Those eyes… perhaps she was having another dream. She stiffened, dread filling her as she thought of the carnage her dream visions foretold.

“Hey,” he whispered, the grip on her arms loosening. “Are you back?” 

Suddenly the whole world came rushing back to her, their situation, who he was, their closeness. With a quick glance, she confirmed her suspicions. She wasn’t dreaming and the man holding her was the irritating pig kingsman. Her face twisted into a snarl as she jerked her bound hands to her chest and wrenched herself out of his grip. He let go without much resistance and sat back in his saddle. He sat facing her, his horse was pulled up close to hers. All the tenderness in his gaze was gone. And his eyes… they weren’t silver anymore… had they ever been? Or had she been hallucinating?

“Well if you’re alright now, shall we continue?” 

She studied him intently. “Your hoods down,” she finally commented. His cheeks darkened as he quickly pulled up his hood, shrouding his face in shadow once again. 

“Well, you’re crying,” he replied dryly. 

She sucked in a quick breath swiping at her damp cheeks. Without further comment, he turned his horse around and they continued. Silence hung over them. She couldn’t believe she had shown him such vulnerability. What the hell was wrong with her. She hadn’t had a flashback in front of anyone in years until that day in that town when day their game of cat and mouse had begun. 

She thought she had gotten over it all. She had buried all these memories deep, deep down inside. Locked them up and thrown away the key. So why were they all surfacing now? Especially, in front of him. Her capture, her enemy, her savior. Wait, what? No, he was not her savior. He was the antithesis of her savior, he was dragging her back to the King of Dalgerstane for Heavens sake. But she had seen a flicker of genuine remorse in his eyes just now. He had quickly hidden it beneath his cloak, but she had still seen it. And that just confused her even more. For a Kingsman, a second - judging by the clasp on his cloak - to regret bringing her in… Who was he? And why did he look so scared and relieved when she had touched his cheek? Why had he leaned into her touch as if it was precious? Why had he kissed the back of her hand last night?

“Who are you?”

“Oh so you’re talking to me now?” he asked sarcastically.

“Like you have a right to say that! You’re the one who ignores me! And don’t think that will distract me, who are you?” she pressed, putting emphasis on the last part. 

“I told you, Cerin, Kingsman to the king of Dalgerstane.”

“You left out the Second part,” she prodded.

“What?”

“You’re the second kingsman, right?”

He looked back at her for the first time since they had begun moving again.

“The clasp on your cloak,” she pointed.

“Appearances can be deceiving,” he countered, pointedly staring at her. Heat sparked in her cheeks as she looked down at herself. Then she realized what he was referring to. Her cloak. She snorted. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she sniffed haughtily.

“Oh really, miss kingsman,” he mocked. 

She growled, “never call me that. All you kingsmen are pigs blindly following your sadistic monster of a king. I'd rather die than be one of you.”

He faced forward, tugging his hood lower, muttering under his breath. Great, she thought. That conversation had learned her nothing and aggravated her everything. Father Sun, she hated him. She hoped the sun burned his pale skin to the point of scaring. Not that that was likely with that stupid cloak.

After a few more hours of riding in silence, the early light of dawn began to fill the sky. He pulled them to a halt, the slight movement of his hood indicating that he was scanning the landscape. He stilled as he spotted something off in the distance to their left. She followed his gaze. 

“What is that?” she mumbled, squinting. The sand was undulating along the horizon, long slim forms curving in and out of the sand, like fish leaping up river.

“Sand dragons,” he said quietly. 

“What?!” she looked at him shocked, before staring hard at the horizon. From this distance, she couldn’t make out any distinct features, but she had a sneaking suspicion he was correct. She’d heard stories of the magnificent, wild beasts. Untameable and very territorial. They would leave you alone as long as you didn’t stumble on their nests. Or so she’d heard.

The sight they made was beautiful, especially as the golden light of the sun lit them up, making them and the sand sparkle like gold. They sat there watching until the dragons dove one last time, disappearing into the sand. A long moment passed as she gazed at the spot where they had vanished. Then her horse started moving under her and she yelped. Whipping around to see he had started moving.

“A little warning would be nice,” she growled.

He didn’t answer as he led them towards a low rise in the sand. As they neared she could see it was a low rocky patch, with… was that a cave? Just big enough for their horses to enter with their necks bent low. He dismounted and began untying her. As he came close enough to untie the knot on her saddle she lashed her leg out. He caught it deftly, letting go after a few seconds to continue untying the rope. She didn’t try to strike him again, instead, studying the top of is hood. Just as he was almost done she flipped his hood off.

Startled he looked up at her. In the morning light, she could see that his hair was black in a bluish sort of way. And his skin really was pale, but not as much as she had initially thought. And his eyes were grey. A nondescript grey with hints of blue. Not silver. Not that she was hoping they were. 

They studied each other for a long moment.

“You know you don’t have to keep wearing your hood, Now that I’ve seen you in both moonlight and sunlight,” she said softly. Where was this coming from… did she want him to leave it off? Yes, but only so that she could study his expressions… or at least that was what she was trying to convince herself of… 

He merely finished unknotting the rope and securing it around his waist, just as he had every other morning. Then he pulled his hood up, turning from her to his horse, leading him into the cave and coaxing him to lie down. She watched as he pulled out food and water from his saddlebags.

“Well,” he called to her, not even bothering to look at her. “You coming or are you going to stand in the sun all day?” he asked popping a piece of jerky into his mouth as he settled against his horse's side.

She grit her teeth and held her tongue - not wanting to give him the satisfaction of rousing a reply from her - as she slid off her horse and lead her into the cave for the day.