Heirs of the Gods

Ch 5: The corrosive, poisonous taste of vengeance

TW: THIS CHAPTER IS VERY DARK. PLEASE BE CAREFUL READING IT! DESCRIPTIVE SCENES DEPICTING VIOLENCE AND MENTIONS OF ABUSE.

  They set up a small tent for Ella so she could rest, and they went off to discuss what she supposed were their plans regarding the invasion of Blackwell estate. That was bound to have consequences for Fae as well.

It wasn't that the tent was uncomfortable, there was a plush mat and several pillows, even a wool blanket, but Ella simply couldn't sleep. Sometimes, when she went too long without sleeping, her body was left jittery and unable to relax. Too wound up. She was too aware of every single noise, every little shift made her bolt upright. And when she did manage to fall asleep, she had nightmares.

Nightmares had always been a problem for her, she had a graphic imagination, but now, they plagued her. Every time she dozed off, her dreams were of her sister's shrieks, Grayson's horrified face, the smell of rotting meat, thick smoke that filled her lungs, hollow sockets. She'd not seen these things, but her mind helpfully supplied her with enough ammunition to make her imagine gruesome scenarios.

After the third time, she gave up on the idea of sleeping. She simply laid on the mat and looked up at the ceiling of the pitched tent, listening to the rustle of the woods until she grew bored of laying there.

Gidden was sitting next to where the fire had been, sharpening a few knives. Ewan and Ronan weren't in sight.

"I want to freshen up. Is there someplace where I can do that?"

"You mean a royal lavatory?" he said, grinning like a winning comedian. Ella only pressed her lips in a line and arched a condescending brow, which he seemed to find amusing rather than insulting, if his persistent grin was to be trusted.

"There's a river a little ways down, just over there. Do you need help?" He pointed towards an opening in the trees, where she could hear the flowing of water. They appeared to be positioned in high terrain.

"I'd like to go alone." She crossed her arms.

"You're not planning on making a run for it, are you?" He squinted slightly.

"And do what exactly? Run like into the dark woods like a headless chicken and get eaten by something or trip and snap my neck? Just my idea of a lovely afternoon."

"I don't know, you don't seem to have the biggest track record for doing logical things," he said with a mocking grin. "I wouldn't have thought a logical person would be snooping around in the forest in the middle of the night."

"A logical person wouldn't expect to get snatched by some rude elf boy either," she said sourly. "I just want some privacy, I'm not going to run off. As if I'd get very far anyway."

"Rude elf boy," he chuckled, again looking delightfully surprised. "I've been called a fair share of names, but never that."

"Well, I excel in being crafty with my insults." Her tone was terse, as it always was, but he didn't seem offended. Again, he appeared to find her surliness funny, his expression ever entertained.

"Fine, if you need anything, just give a shout." He diverted his attention back to his task of sharpening his tools.

She had started to walk towards the direction Gidden had pointed out when she felt a hand on her elbow.

"Here, I thought you might need this," Gidden handed her a small hand towel and a bar of soap.

Whatever sour mood she had, due to the confusion of the day and her fatigue, immediately ebbed away at the simple gesture. He was being kind despite her surliness, and he had no real obligation to do so. It caught her off guard; it wasn't often someone was kind with her, with no ulterior motives at that. She suddenly felt a bit dumb, feeling Gidden's gaze on her face.