A voice attested over her shoulder. “I’m coming.”
“Why would you think I would allow that?” the elfin asked.
“She… is sick. Needs someone to help… take care.” The wolven spoke as if every word were a fight and she was losing.
“And you do?” he asked.
Ivor nodded. “I’ve watched.”
His face turned to stone as he regarded them both, before cocking his head to the side in the direction of the docks. “Go, get in the boat. We leave now.”
“Will you allow me to at least take my things? I have herbs and medications. I won’t survive a few days without them.” Ailsa’s voice sounding pathetically small. It did nothing to soften the elfin, only seemed to make him hate her that much more.
He clenched his teeth and nodded, and she felt his eyes watch her every step up the hill.
She returned with extra clothes for the wolf—Ivor, who was still wearing only the heavy cloak. With her bag over her shoulder, she set her course to the docks. Ailsa looked toward Lattimer before she reached the steps, ignoring the elfin who had grabbed her arm to yank her along faster.
“Lattimer,” she said. He finally looked her in the eyes. “Tell Erik I’m sorry. Tell everyone I’m sorry, but I’m going to make this right. I promise.”
He gave a solemn nod and pressed his fist over his heart, saluting her departure in quiet respect. The rest of the chieftains motioned the same. Their act brought tears to her eyes, and she turned her head before anyone could see them fill into fat drops and spill down her cheeks.
She boarded the boat and stared at the receding image of her village until her tears blurred the inlet beyond recognition. Somehow knowing in her heart, she would never see Drakame again.
Ailsa and her wolven were dangerously quiet as they boarded the ship. He maintained a close eye on them both as he barked orders at his men, insisting they depart with speed. Seela challenged his frustration, her own eye carefully testing the fragile hold he had on his breaking point, just one wrong look away from unsnapping his wrath upon all of them.
“Get your filthy fae hands off me!” she scolded behind him as his officer, Sorrin, attempted to escort her below deck. He turned to find her thrashing in his arms, the pain in her eyes replaced with rage. They stared him down with an anger much like a crevasse of ice, colder the further he dwelled. Her hatred was bottomless.
Vali crossed the distance in only two strides, unsheathing the small dagger at his hip that was forged from the gold beneath the dwarven mountains—the only kind of weapon that could be used against his kind. He bound her hands together in front of her waist with the magic in his mind and pressed the sharp edge of the blade against the bounding pulse in her neck.
“Do not ever speak to my men like that again, or I swear to the gods below, I will cut your foul tongue from your filthy mouth so you never speak again,” he said, applying a whisper of pressure with the knife against her skin. Her eyes glanced at the metal now reflecting the light of the moon, her breath blew harsh against his wrist.
“I come herewillingly. Do not treat me like I’m your prisoner.”
“You are the definition of a prisoner, Jarl Ailsa. Having to threaten the lives of an entire village does not mean you come on your own will.”
She struggled against the invisible bonds around her wrist, aware every fae on this ship was watching her. Their opinions of her would be defined by this moment alone. Meaning this was a power struggle, and he would not let her win. “Let me go,” she demanded.
“No,” he seethed. “You will be locked away until I need you again. You are dangerous, not only to everyone I command, but also to yourself.”
Her lower lids brimmed; his face so close to hers, Vali saw the moonlight in her tears. She said, “You have already taken everything from me. Will you take away my freedom as well?”
He traced the tip of the dagger up her neck, stopping just below her jaw. She swallowed as the blade nipped the soft skin beneath, her breath turning fast and shallow. The runes written along her skin flickered like a flame against the wind, fighting to come alive.
He dropped the blade immediately and took a guarded step back. The power inside her was triggered by the most extreme of emotions, and he needed to tread carefully so it was not activated once again. She was lucky she was weakened on the shores, or the power may have drawn enough strength from her to clear the entire cliffside. Or worse—bind to her permanently.
“What would you say to a truce?” he asked. Her brows danced with doubt, and he explained. “We have a long journey ahead, and I cannot have you fighting tooth and nail every step of the way. What will please you enough to agree to comply?”
Her eyes locked on the blade in his hand, and she bit her bottom lip in quick deliberation. Then her scowl bled into a wicked smile and the light returned behind her eyes. “I have only three demands. If they are each met, I vow my companion and I will not be the cause of any trouble.”
“Name them.”
She cleared her throat and gestured with her eyes at her still bound wrists. Vali sighed and released her for the time being. With a satisfied nod, she spoke. “First, Ivor and I will have a private cabin. We willnotstay in a holding cell. We are not your prisoners and you do not command us.”
Vali nodded and motioned for her to continue.
“Second, we will be allowed to roam at our leisure. I have waited my entire life to leave my home and see the world, and I’ll be damned to Hel before I stay below deck the entire way.”
The first two demands were surprisingly simple, but he had a strange feeling she was saving the worst for last. She wore a clever smile like it was a priceless jewel.