Chapter 12
There’s a stranger in my shiel. He’s still here, very much real and present, and he’s doing push-ups on the floor beside the bed.
Sweat coats Acker’s back, his muscles contracting with the controlled motions. He finishes his set and sits back on his knees, drawing my attention to the way his muscles pull taut with each breath. Rest and hydration have done his body good.
The past two days come into clear focus as the fog of sleep dissipates.
“What time is it?”
“Early morning. The sun will be up within the hour.”
I gape at him. That means I slept for … over fifteen hours. He swigs from my waterskin and points. “There’s food.”
Stew and a torn-in-half bread roll sit on a tray at the foot of my bed. On cue, my stomach grumbles, and I drag the tray onto my lap. I shovel a spoonful into my mouth.
Tension fills the space. It’s not that Acker looks particularly perturbed by yesterday’s events, body on full display as he stands and leans against the wash basin, but I can feel the judgment rolling off of him.
“Thanks for saving some.” Impressive considering the level of hunger
he’s been contending with.
“We can call it even.”
“Cold stew as payment for saving your life,” I say, lifting a brow.
“When you put it into perspective, couldn’t you have at least saved the whole roll for me?”
He quirks a sardonic smile. “After hearing my captor profess his love
for you? I would have rather died.”
And there it is.
“I don’t owe you or anyone an explanation,” I say, standing to place my dishes outside my door for pickup. I notice a guard a story below, patrolling, and latch the door after closing it.
He tilts his head to the side as we stand facing each other. “I saw the realization in your eyes. I know you know you’re not Alaha. Does it not change anything?”
A shot of anger flushes my cheeks. “This is still my life. What is it you want me to do? Leave everything I know?”
He raises his voice, looking at me as if the choice is clear as day. “Yes!”
I shush him. “Grenadine will hear you.”
He makes a face before whisper-shouting back, “Who’s Grenadine?”
“My neighbor, you moron. And there are guards on patrol.”
He takes a deep breath, speaking softer. “These people took you from your home, from your mother.”
A headache begins to thunder behind my eyes and the room begins to spin.
I fall onto my bed, placing my palms against my forehead in an effort to stifle the pounding.
He scrubs a hand along his jaw. “What do you know about the history of Alaha’s exile?”
“Your people—” I stop myself, shaking my head in frustration. It takes me a moment to continue. “The land territories,” I amend, looking up at him, “didn’t want to share their resources and land anymore, so they exiled us to the sea.”
“Each territory—Kenta, Roison, Maile, and Strou—is ruled by families who are chosen by Mother Nature, and given gifts as a reward for taking care of the land and its people. They are Mother Nature’s Heirs, if you will.”
“Gifts,” I say, looking up at him. “As in…”
“Magic,” he says.
I laugh, but the steely hold of his gaze stops it from fully forming.
“Magic isn’t real.”
He cocks his head to the side, eyes roaming my room with judgmental eyes. “How would you know?”
It’s an effective argument to shut me up.
Reclining against the side of my bed, he braces an arm over a knee. “An Alaha Heir was gifted the natural ability of influence, meant to provide comfort to the fearful or calm to the vengeful; a gift designed to prevent war and strife. But the leader of the Alaha used his gifts to benefit himself.
He persuaded other leaders to hand over their riches, casting their own territories into poverty, and he built armies fueled by rage, pitting them against any who were able to withstand his persuasion. He conquered territory after territory after territory.”
“That’s why we were shunned?”
He nods and looks over his shoulder at me. “That leader is the man you know as Captain Wren.”
I shake my head. “That’s impossible. That would make him hundreds of years old.”
“Three hundred and seventeen. The lifespan of an Heir is shortened by distance from land, but it’s normal to live well past a century or two.
Someone as powerful as Wren could live for millennia.”
He opens his mouth to continue, only to snap it shut, teeth clenched as he shakes his head in answer. I suppose the oath still clings to him a little.
Licking his lips, he takes a deep breath before trying again. “His power of influence knows no bounds. He can convince men to commit utter depravities and women of their undying love.”
“And you really believe Wren is capable of these things?”
“Maybe not just him,” he says.
Acker nods when I begin to shake my head.
“He would never do that to me,” I say, adamant. “Kai doesn’t even have
magic.”
He dips his head in answer. “He does.”
“Other than at the Market, Kai’s never been within an inch of land,” I say in defense.
“When you touched the wall at the Market, he tried to compel me to let you go. His father was smart enough to smuggle a little bit of soil before he was exiled, to have it on hand when his son came of age.”
I reach for my boots to shove them on.
“It’s the very soil he used when we created the blood oath,” he continues. “Kai’s power is weak, but it’s there. He’s been using it on you.
For years, I believe.”
I’m over-tightening the laces of my boots with every angry pull. “And you have these … magical gifts?”
There’s a noticeable tick in his jaw as he fights with the oath, but he’s able to answer with a tiny tip of his head.
“Then why didn’t you break yourself out of the brig, huh?”
“The stones it’s built out of suppress magic. You probably felt it yourself when you were in there.” He eyes me for a reaction. “The suffocation,” he says.
Standing, I push past him to get to the wash basin to brush my teeth.
“You’re wrong.”
He stands and follows close behind me. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“I may not have training anymore, but I still need to report to Gramble.
We’re supposed to receive our designated posts.”
He scoffs. “You’re wasting your time.”
He’s standing entirely too close to me, but I pretend it doesn’t bother me. “And why’s that?”
“Because Wren believes women have their place, and it’s at his feet.”
“Kai would—”
“—never do that to me,” he says mockingly.
I spit into the sink and spin to face him. “You have a lot of nerve.”
“At least I have something. Better than not having a backbone.”
I react without thinking, my hand poised to strike him in the face before I realize, but he catches it before I make contact.
“Let go of me!”
He shushes me. “Grenadine is right next door, remember?”
Now I’m seething. “The Matching Ceremony is tomorrow. It’ll be the best time to commandeer a boat without anyone noticing. You’ll be able to leave, and then we can forget we ever met.”
The grip he has on my wrist tightens as he pulls me closer. “If you think I’m going anywhere without you, you’re mistaken.”
Our bodies are inches apart, his scent filling my lungs. It’s nothing I can put a name to but masculine in every way. Heady, almost. Something akin to a genuine smile tugs at his lips, drawing my attention to his mouth. I force myself to meet his eyes, but it kind of feels like staring at the sun.
“You’re delusional if you think I’d go anywhere with you.”
His eyes skim down my body, assessing. “I’ll hog-tie you if I have to.”
I rip myself from his grasp. “Then be prepared to fight, because I’m not going down like a sinking ship.”
