I shook my head. Though the questions needed answers, I couldn’t just sit here, waiting for them. I had to break out and take my chances. But how?
One idea occurred to me. It would be painful, but I couldn’t think of anything else. Drawing in a shaky breath, I pulled on my restraints, testing them out. They were tight, but I was ready to scrape my skin to the bone, dislocate my thumbs, or whatever it took to slip away. It would hurt like hell, but I could heal myself afterward.
Clenching my teeth, I pulled harder, focusing on my right hand. The rough rope bit into my skin as I worked my wrist from side to side and tugged as hard as I could. I swallowed the whimper that rose to my throat, then stopped to take a break and ease the pain for just a bit. I’d managed to slide the rope down my wrist about an inch. I could do this, even if I turned my joints and ligaments into pulp. I inhaled deeply, trying to focus on getting home instead of the pain.
I’d gotten mentally ready to start tugging again when someone pushed the tent flap to one side and walked in. I froze.
Jeondar stood on the other side of the fire pit, frowning at me. He held a metal plate and a cup in his hands. He smiled knowingly but said nothing. Instead, he walked to the table that held the pitcher and set down his load. Reaching behind his back, he pulled out a large knife and walked in my direction.
Stomach sinking, I pressed my back to the pole and watched him warily. He came around, took his sharp knife to the rope, and cut it. He brought my right hand forward and carefully removed the remnants that still circled it. Through narrowed eyes, he noticed the bloody marks around my wrist. Again, he didn’t say anything. He just huffed and walked back to the table.
I busied myself by removing the rope from my left hand.
“I brought you some food,” Jeondar said. “You must be hungry.”
Ignoring him as he approached, I placed my left hand over my bloody wrist and quickly healed the wound. Skin and tissue knitted themselves, and the pain ebbed slowly until it completely disappeared.
“Impressive,” Jeondar said as he set the plate and cup in front of me. The meal consisted of roasted meat and vegetables, and something that looked like red wine.
Despite myself, my stomach rumbled loudly enough for Jeondar to hear.
He chuckled. “Eat. I promise it’s good.”
I tore my eyes from the food and glowered at him. I wanted to pick up the food and throw it at his face, but I doubted he would bring me more, and I needed to keep my strength. However, I wasn’t going to eat while he was here, so I crossed my arms and continued glowering.
“Where am I?” I demanded.
He ignored my question and sat on one of the chairs, crossing his ankles. I didn’t think he would answer, but he surprised me by saying, “A few miles north of Pharowyn.”
A few miles. That was not bad. I could jog and make it there before nightfall. It wasn’t too late in the afternoon, judging by the amount of sun spilling through the tent flap. But what if he was lying? What if we were south of Pharowyn? Either way, that didn’t change my situation. I had to escape.
“Why?” I asked. “Why did you take me? What do you want with me?”
Jeondar shrugged. “You’ll find out soon enough. It’s not my job to tell you.”
His honey-colored eyes lowered to the food, then met mine again.
He wanted me to eat. He probably would not leave until he saw me take a bite, so I picked up the plate, grabbed the two-pronged fork that rested on top of it, and speared a piece of what looked like beef. The meat practically melted in my mouth, and I had to fight the urge to close my eyes and savor it. Instead, I swallowed and followed it with a piece of eggplant, which was perfectly seasoned. He hadn’t lied. The food was delicious. The wine too. Full and not overly sweet. It slid down my throat easily, quelling my thirst.
I stared at the fire pit, ignoring Jeondar altogether. After a few more bites, I was starting to think he was waiting for me to finish so he could tie me up again, but in the end, he let out a heavy sigh and walked out.
Hurriedly, I set the plate down, and the first thing I did was trace my transfer rune on the rug, praying it would take me back home. Nothing happened. The rune would only work in Pharowyn. Shit! I rose to my feet and, crouching low, inched toward the tent flap and tried to peer outside, but the view the slit offered was limited, and all I could glimpse was grass and a few trees about twenty yards away.
I craned my neck, trying to see if there was a guard stationed out front, but I couldn’t tell. I had to assume there was. They wouldn’t leave me unattended. Turning, I faced the back of the tent, then walked its perimeter, looking for the best place to sneak out. I checked around and found that the bottom of the tent was tucked securely under the layered rugs.
Dammit!
There would be no escaping through the sides or back. I whirled inside the tent, eyes roving around as I tried to think of how to escape without being noticed. A new idea occurred to me. I searched the tent once more and spotted my messenger bag on one of the canvas chairs.
Thank the witchlights!
I rushed there and pulled out a bundle of herbs. I quickly unwrapped it from the piece of tan cloth that held it together. Yalgrun sold the strongest aeradonus. A pinch was enough to create a very effective bronchodilator. I used it to treat my chronic asthma patients. One more thing about aeradonus… it smoked like crazy when it came in contact with fire. I’d discovered that the hard way when I accidentally dropped a bit of it into the open flame of my gas stove. It was so bad it triggered the smoke detector and I had to open all the windows and turn on the fan to clear the mess.
I took the tan cloth and checked the contents of the metal pitcher on the table. I sniffed it and was relieved to find out it was water. I poured some on the cloth, which I then wrung and secured around my head, covering my nose. I then checked the compass function on my smartwatch to figure out which way Pharowyn lay.
Heart pounding out of control, I slung the messenger bag across my torso, threw the bundle of aeradonus in the fire pit, and crouched next to the tent flap, my eyes squeezed shut.
A pungent smell like a combination of menthol and camphor quickly filled the tent. The smoke rose, building a huge cloud overhead, searching for a way out. Soon, the entire space was swimming in a thick haze. I fought the urge to cough, pressing a hand tightly to my mouth.