Daughters of the King |✓|

Chapter Thirteen

We were at his mercy and he was enjoying it. The bastard.

"Would you walk with me, please?" he asked with a small tilt of his head, and somehow, his overuse of the word please managed to make him seem arrogant, not polite.

I glanced behind me at the hut, at the two people standing guard on each side of the door.

"Don't worry," the leader whispered to me through his sharp teeth, the canines prominent, like an animal's. Or a vampire's. "They'll keep an eye on him."

Keep him trapped, more like, but I still forced a smile for the sake of appearances, although it was clear that neither of us was fooled by the other. The leader gestured for me to follow him, and I fell into step at his side.

They had made quite the little home for themselves here, in a clearing in the forest, with a floor of pine needles for their stomping grounds and a baffling mixture of things ancient and modern to keep them occupied. It was like seeing two different eras from complete opposite ends of the spectrum getting smashed together to create something brand new and confusing.

A group was cooking meat on a fire, throwing raw scraps to the dogs that ran amuck between them, their automatic weapons at the ready at their sides, just in case, while another was sitting on a log watching the Black Channel on a tablet. A tablet, of all things. I'd never even used one myself; they weren't the sort of things that were readily available to just anyone anymore. Not in this economy

Every single person around the fire looked up as we passed, and I felt the weight of their gaze on the white of my skin, heavy with questions, but I tried to ignore them. It seemed I was still a freak wherever I went, and although I wasn't exactly feared among these people, I was still openly picked apart. I was still scorned and studied.

"So?" The leader leaned closer, forcing my attention back to him. "An entire town?"

"So?" I echoed, like a dare. "Do you have a name?"

The skin around his eyes pinched. "Bjorn, and I don't care what yours is."

"Charming."

He ignored that. "Was it really an entire town?"

"No." I sighed, and although I hated to be reminded of what had happened, of what I'd seen, I also wanted to set him straight. If only to make sure he never brings it up again. I intended to never bring it up again myself if I could help it. "There was an uprising and we—"

"Killed everyone," he supplied.

"No." I came to a halt and turned to face him. He looked back at me in pleased surprise. I took a deep breath and started, "The locals attacked the army. I've witnessed something like it before, but... nothing quite as bad as this. It was awful. They killed each other. My husband and I were the only survivors, besides the few that made it away."

I checked his expression to make sure he understood. He ran his dirty fingernails across his furry cheek, mulling over my words. I could tell he wasn't buying it, and that something was clearly brewing in his head. I didn't know what it was yet, but I was already dreading it.

"Why did you bring us here?" I asked, not wanting to waste any more time. "What do you want?"

"Your husband is injured," he said slowly, choosing his words with care. "You wouldn't have been able to get far with him shot up like that."

"You're the ones who shot him," I reminded him, unable to hold back my bitterness.

He just smiled. "That's why you're here. So we can make amends."