Chapter 8

Cylthan’s head was pounding again. Eyes fluttering, the campfire light stabbed her brain. Laying half on her side and half face down, she was bound even more tightly this time and it hurt. Oh, and her throat burned like a desert.

Wait ... he didn’t...?

Croaking out a soft groan just to make sure, she squirmed a little, her hands numb.

The heavy thud of booted feet made the ground shake a little under her before she was forcibly wrenched up into a sitting position, eliciting another groan. Squinting at Roan’s dark, drawn face, she forced a cheeky smile to cover the thump in her chest.

“Shit, saipaki,” she rasped with a breathy chuckle, “you’re a sadist.”

Her dry lip splitting open stung more than the knuckles of his hand against her face but not by much. Jerked back upright, she cringed from the finger he held up. “I let you keep your voice so you can answer my questions. If you refuse, then I have no reason to listen to your trash talk. Do not test me.”

Not meeting his gaze, she had to swallow the blood in her mouth, the only wet thing she had to moisten her throat. “Fuck, o-okay, saipaki. I ... was just trying to lighten the mood.”

Though his eyes narrowed in warning, he allowed the shallow sass. “What are you?”

Her brows threaded together, peering up at him, the shimmer of her pupils bright in the dancing fire light. “What do I look like?”

He shook his head with a sneer. “You are as much an elf as I am a rat.”

Her brow cocked curiously. “Oh, well, if you’re so sure then you tell me.”

Her cheekiness was replaced with a yelp when he left the marks of his knuckles across her face once more. Pulling her back up by the small piercing on her brow made her squeal in pain, stiffening up straight. When he released her, she hunched down into a protective curl, muttering something in elven under her breath. He didn’t know a lot of elvish, but he knew the word for insane.

“Fine. Then let’s try something easier. What is your real name?”

Turning to glare up at him from the corner of her eye, she shook her head. “I already told you.”

“Cylthaniszatrix?”

For a few long seconds, she continued to stare at him with that irritated wrinkle. Then a sly little smile toyed with the corners of her mouth. “That’s quite the mouthful, saipaki.

“Ow, fuck.” Her head swam with the force of his resounding slap. Slumping over, she lay on the ground, staring at the fire, wishing she were anywhere but there.

“Keep it up, and I will give you a mouthful of me.”

Turning her head to look up at him towering over her, she bared her bloodied teeth in a threatening grin, her eyes shining. “I’m thirsty enough to drink your blood.”

His jaw clenched, face twisted to an ugly scowl. Honestly, she expected him to kick her. Reaching to his belt, he unhooked his waterskin and the hard, angry line of his mouth curled up sadistically. Popping the top, he poured the water on to her face, making her sputter and squirm.

“You’re fucking crazy!” she yelled hoarsely at him, curling up in a ball to cough.

“I’ve been called worse. Now tell me the truth.”

Shaking her head sharply, she licked at the drops on her tender, bloody lips. “I don’t know who that is.”

Returning the head shake more slowly in disappointment, he tipped the waterskin again. “I just don’t believe you.”

Deciding to take advantage of his torment, she tilted her head back and caught the stream with her mouth, gulping so eagerly that she coughed and got uncomfortably wet again.

Relenting when the vessel was empty, he jerked her up out of the mud he had created, pressing her over Draen’s body. “Why did you go into that tavern?”

Glowering back at him, the only sounds in the night were the insects, the crackling campfire, their breathing, and her stomach growling.

“That’s why,” she stated bitterly, breaking their standoff. “It had nothing to do with you. Men always think they’re so important.”

When his face grew taut in warning, she clenched up in expectation but did not close her eyes.

“So you’ve done that a lot, have you?”

Squirming uncomfortably, her eyes darted around. His piercing, steady stare was so unnerving. “N-Not exactly ‘a lot.’ Just a few times. You Seekers, you never have a crowd around. People try really hard to be wherever you’re not, so you guys are always so shocked. It was easy to get a hot meal and be gone. It ... it always worked out before. Draen’s magic ... always worked before.”

“I’m not like the other Seekers.”

His smugness made her roll her eyes. “Oh, good. I’d hate to think they’re all assholes.”

His jaw clenched tight. Wrenching her to her feet with a grip that would absolutely leave bruises on her arm, he dragged her stumbling to the bedroll, and let her fall heavily. Sneering down at her, he shook his head. “You have no idea how much restraint I’m using right now. I keep telling you what I will do, and you keep pushing me, so I can only assume you want it.”

Glaring up at him, dirt and blood on her face, Roan felt the flame of her ire burning in his veins.

“I fucking helped you!” she spat.

He nodded once slowly. “I know. That’s why I’m showing restraint.”

A jingling sound in the distance had drawn closer. Cylthan only then realized they were tucked just a little ways off a road. The gray of morning had begun to creep through the trees around them.

Roan tilted his head and smirked. “Sounds like the blacksmith was quick with his work.” Looking back at her, his fiendish grin made him downright devilish in the firelight, his silver eye shining in the wavering shadow cast upon his face. “I left him with the distinct impression that I would not be pleased if it wasn’t ready by morning.”