Sweet Innocence and Gentle Sin || 𝐀𝐂𝐎𝐓𝐀𝐑

Chapter 10: Drowning My Hands In Blood

"Or I could winnow my men behind them." Mor pointed to the valley behind Beron's camp.

"That would mean luring them deep enough into the bed so you don't get attacked from the other side," Azriel said.

"The problem is, he hasn't made a move in days," Jurian said. "Can't do anything if they won't move."

I thought for a moment, mulling over the map, then snapped my head up and said, "use me as bait."

"What?" Everyone hissed in unison.

I simply continued. "Beron and his men are under the impression that you kidnapped me. So, act like that's what I am, a prisoner. Send him a letter asking to meet in the middle and bring me. It will give him cause to send his men through, knowing that I'm on the other side."

"That could work," Jurian said, glancing up at Mor, who shrugged her shoulders.

"But it's too dangerous," Azriel said, not looking at me.

I dropped my head so he could see me. "He knows that if he accidentally hurt me, that would turn my uncle against him—and he needs my uncle. He told me so. I am your shield. Knowing I am here will keep him from unleashing his full power."

Jurian took a deep breath, the gears turning in his head. Azriel stared at him, likely trying to intimidate him into disagreeing with me. It didn't work. He lifted his head and said, "Mor, write a letter—make sure he knows we have something of his." She nodded and left the room.

I moved to follow her. If I added things to that letter that no one else is supposed to know, then it would make it even more real looking. Just before I could leave the tent, though, my hand was grabbed.

Azriel glared at me with burning gold eyes. "You can't do this."

"I can, and I will," I bit, snapping my hand away from his. "You can't tell me what to do. If this is all I can do to help, then I will act my heart out."

I left the tent before he could say anything more and wandered around looking for Mor. I passed a few healers' tents and saw a man missing an arm. What remained of that shoulder was wrapped in gauze, and he was talking to a woman.

I found the Morrigan and sat down with her in her tent. She pulled out a flask and handed it to me. A very strong alcohol that burned its way down my throat. I handed it back to her and watched her pull out the tools for this letter.

As she wrote, she said, "so, how did you know I liked being called Mor?"

I shrugged my shoulders. "Azriel calls you that—I didn't think much of it, to be honest."

"You and Azriel seem... close?"

My eyes widened, and I breathed a laugh. "No. The opposite. I can't stand him. But this," I raised my tattooed hand for her to see, "forces us to stay close."

"You know what they say, never make a bargain with an Illyrian."

I smiled. "My first mistake."

She shook her head, dipping the quill in more ink. "I will say, though, I haven't seen him so interested in another person since he met me. You must've done something to catch his eye."

"I tried to kill him."

She laughed at that and said, "that always does it with males. Try to kill them—and they fall head over heels. Now, anything you want to add to this?"

"Remind him of my wedding," I said. "That'll get Tamlin shaking with fear."

She raised a brow, and started writing while saying, "you're engaged?"