The King's Cursed Bride

Protecting Him: Part 3

This obviously wasn't going anywhere. It seemed the man wasn't much swayed by emotional pleas.

He removed preserved vegetables from the crate before tossing them in a pot. He disappeared outside and returned with the pot full of water and a sack. From the sack, he withdrew two rabbits, skinned them, diced the meat, and tossed it in the pot. Soon, he had the pot of soup boiling over a fire.

Carissa watched the flames consume the wood, making it crackle and snap. "If you're so afraid of being caught by Reapers, why use a fire? The smoke will be a signal to everyone from miles around."

The man sat back in his chair, his hands clasped over his stomach. "This type of wood is smokeless."

The soup filled the cabin with the savory smell of meat and spices. Carissa's stomach rumbled. She couldn't remember the last time she'd eaten.

The man smirked. "Hungry?"

Carissa resisted the urge to tug again at her bonds. She wanted to fight with the man, one on one, and wipe that smirk from his face. She tore her gaze from his as she tried to cool her temper. If she wanted to escape, she'd have to reign in her emotions and think about this logically. After all, that was what Elon would do, wasn't it? Maybe she should try to reason with the man.

"We're not Reapers."

"So you've said before."

Carissa turned her head, displaying the blood on her cheek. "Reapers' blood is black. Mine is not."

He shrugged. "Then you're servants of Reapers, possibly sent to scope out the area, and you'll report me as soon as I release you."

"But you're not a servant of the Reapers. Haven't you considered that there are other people here like you?"

He shook his head, amusement and firelight flickering in his eyes. "You're obviously not from the area, my dear, or you would know that the wood here burns smokelessly." He held up three fingers. "There are three types of people—those who left, those who stayed and became enslaved, and those who stayed and survived."

"But as you said, I'm not from this area, meaning I'm not one of those who has stayed and survived, but neither am I enslaved."

"Then you're a slave who has traveled with your Reaper master." He grinned. "Checkmate."

"Or I crossed the border to enter Esmeray."

His chest rumbled with chuckles. "You should have used another story, my dear. No one would believe that one. Who would cross the border to enter Esmeray, hmm?" He stirred the soup a few times.

Perhaps she should tell him the truth. But what if Elon had intended their mission to be a secret? What if she wasn't meant to tell this man? Carissa sighed. If she left the discussion as it was and didn't elaborate, the man would assume it was a lie. She had to at least try to tell him the truth.

"Do you want to know why we crossed the border?"

The man stopped stirring the pot to glance over at her, his eyebrows raised in either annoyance or amusement. "I take it you're going to tell me this fabrication of yours whether I want to hear it or not, so you might as well get it out."

Carissa ignored her disappointment at his words and pressed on, "My husband and I crossed the border to free the slaves."

He shook his head and went back to stirring. "How would you do that? By sneaking the slaves back across the border?" He dropped the ladle, allowing it to disappear into the boiling water, and snapped his fingers. "Oh, I know! You're going to kill all the Reapers." He burst out laughing, his large frame shaking.