Merrit hadn't come alone. He'd brought an army to rescue her. Only, now she no longer wished to be rescued.
The drinking lodge was never more shrouded in silence than it was tonight. Rowan entered the building, the fine hairs on her arms prickling with awareness as every eye, both human and warg, shifted to follow her progress through the hall. Acid pooled heavy in her gut, making her nauseous.
Merritt's small contingent of soldiers were in a poor state. They were all hollow-eyed and jumpy. Their liveries were tattered and leaden with mud.
She hurried towards Merritt, taking his cold hands in hers. "What happened to you, Merri—Lord Marwort?"
"Rowan! it's so good to see you!" He tried to embrace her, but she held him back, her strength surpassing his. Thrax's ominous presence fulminated with wrath, and rightly so.
"Are you all right?" She could feel Thrax's glare slicing between them like hot iron. From the tail of her eye, she'd glimpsed him. Dear Maeda, he looked vengeful.
Merritt's fingers were like bone as they clung to hers. He seemed confused by her reserve "Have they not been feeding you? You're skin and bone, dear heart!"
"I assure you I'm well fed and happy." She waved away his protest. "My lord, tell me what happened to you and your men."
"My lord?" He shook his head, visibly confused. "What has—?"
Her hands tightened on his and he winced. "Tell me what happened?"
"When y-you didn't meet me at the bridge, I knew t-to come! I thought the worst!" His soft blue eyes instantly filled with water, and he was licking his lips in a desperate way, nigh choking on his words. "But we...we were..." He shook his head, a tear slipping free. "Oh, it was monstrous, Rowan!"
"He claims they were attacked," said Thrax in his steely wargrex tone. His claws curved dark a vicious—a clear sign of his rage, one he chose not to hide. He drummed them on the armrest of his antlered throne, carving out an ominous beat.
Swallowing, she raised her eyes to his. "Attacked by whom?"
"Plants," he sneered.
"Plants w-with t-teeth!" Merritt stammered. "Monstrous, g-grasping vines, and flesh-eating teeth—you never saw such predatory bladderworts and bloodthirsty bog lilies!" His arm came up, hand trying to enact gnashing jaws. "One was like a snake that nearly took my head off!"
"Flesh-eating...lilies?" Was Merritt serious?
"Mowraths," Thrax said with a growl in the back of his throat. He stood up from his throne and strode forward, his wrathful gaze dropping to her hands still clutching Merritt's. "Lord Marwort thought it a good idea to make camp in the outland." The side of his jaw was ticking in that bestial way. "Even wargs don't sleep on the open ground. Especially not at night."
"We got lost after that...that Death Hound dragged our guide off!" Merritt blinked his tears away, shooting up from the bench he'd been perched on. But with Thrax looming over him, his outrage was no more intimidating than a child's. "It tore his arms off and dragged him away."
A golrag, she thought. And desperately hungry if it'd braved the nixrath clad soldier. All outmen, generally wore nixrath vambraces or chains around their necks.
"We were exhausted," Merritt continued. "We needed rest after the attack."
Thrax's smile was all fangs. "You rest, you die—the outland is unforgiving of human needs." Then he dismissed Merritt, spotlighting her with yellow choler. "They were lucky the rest of the pack weren't eager to tangle with nixrath, but the mowraths, as you know, are unaffected."
"The fool must've been asleep to give the golrag such an opening." This from Barthac, his face merciless as he scratched his chin.
With the bond locked, Rowan understood wargish better than she could speak it, but Barthac's contempt transcended even the language barrier.
Merritt stiffened. "What's he saying?" He glared at Barthac through red and swollen eyes, still seeping tears.
"I said," Barthac switched to Wrasian, "you're all fools."
Merritt looked horrified. "How dare you! My men have died!"
"Fools often do..."
"You monster!"
Rowan set her teeth and hushed Merritt. "Careful, Lord Marwort, you're not in West Gate. You have no power here."
"He shouldn't be here at all," said Thrax, grinding his teeth.
"Captain Morse," said Merritt, his face wan. "Was the only other experience outman and he was taken by a ferocious, bloody orchid."
Barthac turned away, his lips twitching. The bastard was trying not to laugh.
Rowan frowned at him. She wanted to chastise him, but she had to admit Merritt wasn't making it easy for the wargs to take him seriously. 'Deadly mowrath' sounded far grimmer than 'ferocious bloody orchid' did.
When Barthac turned around again, his face was schooled and devoid of the humor Rowan had glimpsed. "You camped near a mowrath grove, what do you expect?"
Thrax was watching Rowan. "We found what was left of Marwort's men east of Kolg, heading in the wrong direction."
Barthac shook his head at Merritt. "I thought you humans knew better than to cross that bridge of yours into our world. What possible reason could've lured you out?"
Merritt's underlip quivered with indignations. "It was for my lady."
Barthac seemed genuinely confused. "I did not take Elgret for a fool."
It was Thrax who answered, his glare never leaving Rowan. "Lord Marwort isn't talking about his High Lady." He ignored his brother's questioning glance, though. He shot Rowan and Merritt thunderous looks and then stalked out of the lodge. But just in case the boy suffered under any misunderstandings, he growled a peremptory, "Outside, Marwort. We three will speak alone."
Her stomach clenched as she watched him leave. Shoulders squared, she gave Merritt a nod, and then followed Thrax from the public house. Merritt trailed close behind. When his men began to file out, too, she stayed them with a firm shake of her head. "You must rest here," she said to them. "I will have beer and broth brought to you all. For now, let our healer see to your wounds." She nodded at Ugla before hurrying away.
Outside, night had fallen. She stalked away from the torches, sucking in a cooling breath. She was glad to escape the stifling hall, large as it was she'd felt confined. With a frown, she turned to see that Merritt was tripping in the dark like a newborn fawn. It reminded her of what she herself had been not so long ago—blind and frail. So very human. She stood staring at him a moment, wondering if the other wargs had ever thought her this...feeble and inept. Thrax certainly had. To her warg eyes, the night was bright and full of color. But to Merritt, who could see nothing of the uneven boards and the waiting water below, the night must seem a ravenous insidious thing.
"Whatever you do, don't trip." She glanced down at the long undulating shadow beneath the water, gliding slowly alongside them. "You don't want to go swimming in this lake, believe me."
"I'll...I'll do my best." He was panting hard, every breath a panicked wheeze. His hands were grappling with the bridge ropes.
Gods, why was he so loud? That he and his men had lasted even an hour outside the Iron Girdle spoke of his incredible luck. She muttered in wargish, hating how impatient she felt. It struck her then—how the roles were reversed! She was just like Thrax now, and Merritt was so like the girl she'd been not so long ago. But she found no humor in the realization, remembering his cold manner and the way he always seemed to resent her weakness. Just as she was doing with Merritt now.
Guilt snared some of the writhing impatience in her chest. She looked back at him again, mustering a little sympathy. "Try not to be so loud, you sound like a dinner bell."
His eyes were wide and unseeing, like a blind man. He tried to laugh, but it came off like a cough.
She tried to imagine Thrax grasping, sightless, in the dark like this. Even without his warg abilities, she knew Thrax would still dominate the darkness as though he owned it. Like the marshal back at Black Bridge Castle—a human man but comfortable and confident in the dark. Merritt barely dominated the colorful silks he was wearing.
For Brek's sake, what was he doing dressed like a pudding in the outland? No wonder half his men were gobbled up. At this plodding pace, he didn't stand a chance out here. "Stop flailing about and take my hand," she commanded, watching him flinch. With a harsh sigh, she reached out to snatch his hand from the air, hating his groping frailty, yet...understanding what it felt like. But it was more than that. There was a weakness of spirit in him, too. How had she never noticed that before?
"You sound different," he whined.
"Do I?" She shrugged, knowing he couldn't see it.
"Yes, I know you're still a genteel lady under all that unbecoming leather and brusqueness." He gave a shudder, seemingly horrified by her warg attire. "You needn't act like them, too."
She snorted, not in the least bit offended by his absurd remark. With effort, though, she gentled her tone somewhat. They'd been friends once, married even, he deserved better from her. "I suppose the outland has a way of hardening mud into rock." She eyed him, wondering if this land could make something firmer of his soft hands and delicate bones. Her mother had served in the Kings Guard as a young woman, so it made sense Elgret was the way she was. Of steel, not silk. Even some of the women in Merritt's contingent were more muscled than he was.
His brow was furrowed as he tripped along behind her. "You aren't insinuating I'm like mud and you're the rock, are you?"
"Wargs don't insinuate anything."
"You're not a warg, Rowan," he said, sighing sharply. "The sooner I get you home, the better. You've gone...wild."
She halted and turned on her heel, her hand splaying against his chest to keep him from ploughing into her. "Merritt—"
"Dear heart, you haven't even greeted me properly." He tried to draw her to him. Tried to pull her into his arms. But she held herself aloof and the embrace turned cold and awkward.
In the water, she could see the mirok's curious green eyes following their progress. But it wasn't just he that was listening and watching them. A powerful male musk, as familiar to her as her own name, began to fold around her. She could taste his anger like smoke in the air. Before she could scold Merritt, or at least warn him they weren't alone, Thrax's voice rumbled through the dark.
"Careful, little lordling," said Thrax, his voice turing the air frigid.
Merritt started, dropping his hands. His bones began to shake, his eyes trying to penetrate the dark.
"You've neither the sense nor ability to get yourself home safely, never mind getting my wargrix there. She'd have a better chance without you."
"I say, may we perhaps...could we speak in the light? Inside." Merritt licked his lips. "I am at a disadvantage here in the dark, wargrex."
"You were at a disadvantage the moment you left your mother's skirts and crossed that bridge."
"Thrax..." Rowan muttered over Merritt's gasping outrage. " That's enough." She shook her head, dragging Merritt behind her. "Come along, both of you." She avoided Thrax's glare, though it weighed her shoulders down like packed ice. She let go of Merritt's delicate white hand the moment they entered her house.
Meera had lit a few lamps earlier and, though it was dim by human standards, she knew Merritt could see well enough. Behind her, Thrax said nothing, his silence feeding the painful knot in her throat.
She swallowed past the knot so that her voice was clear and steady. "You have to go home, Merritt. I hate that you came all this way, but you must leave without me."
He'd been studying the hall, but his eyes swung to her, appalled. "But...the plan! Our plan!" He shook his head. "When you didn't make it to the bridge that night, I knew to come here."
"What plan?" Thrax growled.
"I came to rescue my wife!"
Thrax's lip curled dangerously, fangs unsheathed. "She is no longer your wife, lordling. And if you misspeak again, you'll be back among the mowraths where I found your sorry carcass."
She studied Merritt's wan face. It was sadly ironic that the rescuers had required the rescuing in the end. "So this was the disturbance you left to investigate this morning."
It hadn't been a question, but he answered anyway. "Yes, and little did I know I'd be salvaging a rescue party." He stalked nearer, eyes seething yellow. "One you schemed up, it seems."
She swallowed. "Can you blame me? I did it the night you stole me away! On my wedding night no less. That was before—"
His he balled his clawed fists. "So I'm to blame?"
Merritt cleared his throat. "Erm—"
"Not now, Merritt." She jabbed a finger at Thrax, mid-chest. "You can't condemn me for something I did in fear."
"I'm to believe you now? When you're so good at lying."
She flushed, hating that she was to be always reminded of her little lie. "This is all a mistake."
"Your coming here was a mistake, is it?"
She hissed in frustration. "No! You know that's not what I mean!"
His gaze narrowed to glowing slits. "Don't tell me what I know."
"Enough!" Both Thrax and Rowan turned as Merritt kicked a chair aside. "Enough!" he said again, his blue eyes cold as they stabbed her.
Thrax eyed Merritt like some odd, colorful little insect as the boy stormed past him towards her.
"I did not come all this way," said Merritt, "nor lose half my soldiers, just to be ignored and dismissed. You bade me rescue you, and so I came despite your lady mother refusing to spare even one man from her garrison." He gripped her hands and knelt before her despite Thrax's menacing growl. "Not even my uncle would help. But I came anyway."
"I wish you hadn't," she said, voice brittle with pity and guilt. She pulled her hands free, leaving his bereft. "The night I left—"
"Our wedding night."
She gritted her teeth. "That night I was a rambling naïve girl."
"And has that girl changed so much in so little time?" There was a hopeful lilt in his tone—a wish to the contrary. He grabbed her hands again, his own were clammy.
She snatched them back, stepping away before Thrax took it into his head to grab the boy by his scruff and throw him to the mirok. "I am a girl no longer. I'm a mated woman, Merritt." And she realized then that, had she stayed—had Thrax never come for her—she'd have remained that spoiled, stilted girl Merritt seemed to cherish.
A heavy silence followed. Merritt studied her with a stark expression. Thankfully, though, his eyes remained dry this time. He'd spent all his tears, it seemed. Then he glanced between her and the wargrex, never quite meeting Thrax's eyes. "You" —he licked his lips— "you sound serious."
Thrax opened his mouth, and she could see it was a biting quip he was about to mete out.
She forestalled her mate with a light touch. To Merritt, she said, "I am, my friend."
"Friend?" He sounded hollow and miserable. "Not so long ago, I was your husband."
Thrax threw up his hands, his patience snapping. "For the love of Brek, little cockling! You are as thick-witted as you are maudlin." With a feral look, he said, "Fill your belly and take your rest. I want you gone by morning."
Rowan's gut twisted with guilt. "We'll send a company of wargs to see you safely to West Gate." She glanced at Thrax for confirmation.
The wargrex vented a low growl. "If he doesn't do or say another stupid thing, I'll see him there myself."
Her mouth pressed into a thin line. "Then it's settled."
Thrax gave a gruff nod. "And will you be returning with him?"
A tight knot shot into her throat. "Who's thick-witted now, min skan?"
His eyes cut between her and Merrit, narrowing. After a terse silence, he stalked out. Merritt flinched as Thrax's stormy wake nearly knocked him over.
"I can't believe you want me to leave you here with these...these animals."
A knot hardened in her belly, but she forced herself to be patient with him. He deserved her sympathy, not her anger. "I'm where I'm meant to be, Merri. This is my home now."
He rolled his eyes at that.
"Even if I did wish to leave," she went on stiffly, "Thrax offered to escort me back himself. I'm not a captive here. But if I were one, I would not need you to find my way back—Thrax has been teaching me to navigate by the stars. How to sniff out danger. How to track game. How to survive out here."
"And now you fancy yourself a warg, do you?" he scoffed.
"I'm still learning." Gritting her teeth, she shoved down her growing anger. "In the company of wargs, I'm always learning. And I love it."
His glare turned sullen.
"I've been stifled my whole life, kept on a leash. Until I came here, I was nothing and nobody."
"Not to me, you weren't. I loved you. I love you still."
She grimaced, hating herself for hurting him. "You love a girl who no longer exists. You are married to a woman who lives only in your head."
Merritt uttered a mirthless laugh. "So I should return home an ignoble fool, thanks to you? Everyone will laugh at me. Scorn me! Mother told me not to come."
"I'm so very sorry, Merri. Truly, I am."
"Those are just words," he spat.
She lifted her chin. "Yet words are all I have to give you now. But I see I've said enough, I won't apologize again." She'd done so more than once already and it only seemed to fester in his ears. What was done was done.
He opened his mouth to say something more, but Meera cleared her throat at the doorway. Thresh was smiling sinisterly just behind her, his glare pinning Merritt. Evidently, Thrax didn't trust her alone with Merritt—not that she blamed him—so he'd sent his friend, seeing as he was too wroth to mind her himself.
"Where is the wargrex?" she asked Thresh.
"Out," was the succinct reply as he stepped into the hall.
Out? Which meant he'd gone for a run. Doubtless on all fours and far away. "So we won't see him till morning?"
Thresh shrugged, carving Merritt up with a dark glower.
"Meera, please see that Lord Marwort's men are fed and cared for."
The maid wrung her hands, wavering. "The wargrex bade me not to leave your side tonight. And Thresh is not to leave either of us alone..." Her eyes darted to Merritt. With him, she meant.
"Yes, fine," Rowan said, wearied to the bone, "and I'll be right here when you're done. Please do this for me." She just wanted to be alone for a few hours respite. She felt overwhelmed and wretched and she wanted to lick her wounds in private.
With her lip caught between her teeth, Meera finally nodded. "Yes, milady."
"I don't need a guard dog, Thresh." She stared meaningfully at him. Merritt was hardly a threat. And the hulking warg was making Merritt squirm.
On cue, Merritt coughed nervously.
"Guard Meera if you must guard someone, but I'm tired and I'm going to bed."
Thresh raked Merritt over with another baleful glare before he relented, his nod like an axe blow. After all, Rowan was half warg now—more capable than the scrawny man shivering in his tattered finery. It was hard to see him as a threat. "Good night, Har Kani," he said, "tamer of miroks." With a fanged smile for Merritt, Thresh gestured for Meera to go first. Then he sauntered out after her, watching the girl's hips sway with something of a wolfish look.
Just because they were alone again, didn't mean Rowan had anything more to say to Merritt. She'd said all she wanted to. With a long sigh, she headed towards her private chamber.
It was early yet, but her eyelids were heavy and her mind like cold soup. She pushed aside the heavy pelt that served as the chamber door and turned to see Merritt was tracking her every movement, his mouth grim. He wore a strange expression she'd never seen on him before, and she didn't much care for it. "Get some sleep, Merritt. You've a long day tomorrow."
His nod was curt, his face twisting in a sneer. But, fortunately, he kept silent.
"Good night." She nodded and let the pelt drop on his unrelenting stare.
Within moments of sinking into her bed, she was asleep. When she woke again, her head was throbbing and the world around her was nothing but a nauseating blackness.