The Gathering of the Hunt

CHAPTER FIVE

Aesira fell flat on her face as she was pushed back into her cell. She sighed in relief, making no effort to get back up.

She was safe from the monsters that prowled over her body, howling their conquest once more.

"Sira?" Kaedon's worried call barely registered.

She flinched when she sensed his nearing approach, curling up in a protective ball.

She heard his gasp as he stepped close enough to see the damage that had been wrought on her body.

"What did they do?" he murmured, "What did they do?"

It was spoken more like a statement than a question. The horror that the words held caused her head to spin.

What exactly had the prince done to her this time?

Most of her visit to the prince's chamber was hazy, another experience lost to the horrors of the past. But his phantom touch still remained, the ripping pain between her legs still lingered.

The cutting insults that had been carved into her skin still throbbed.

Kaedon moved back from her, his breathing stuttering.

She jumped when something cold pressed to her side, stopping the steady flow of blood that came from the numerous slashes across her abdomen.

Cold water dripped on her forehead, washing away the sweat that had gathered there. She shivered when a threadbared cloak was draped over her, even though the extra item made her warmer. Was it another trick done to lull her into a false sense of security?

She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to trap the little warmth her body held.

Aesira's eyes were heavy, the surrounding area swimming in and out of focus. But she refused to give into the tugging hands of sleep, afraid of what lurked in the darkness.

A sweet melody drifted through the still air, a nostalgic reminder of simpler times. The melody rose and fell, softly, a calming embrace that wrapped itself around her shoulders, a sword against the nightmares.

So, take my hand my dear
The morning will come;
There is no need to fear
A bright dawn filled with light
And by then
We'll be free from the dark night's blight.

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Kaedon wished that there was more that he could do other than sing a stupid melody that told nothing but lies.

But with every movement, Aesira flinched, her breath catching in her throat, a fearful whimper escaping her mouth. Slowly, slowly, her movements calmed and her breathing evened out.

Even during sleep, she wasn't at rest, her brow creased, her body twitching at random intervals.

Kaedon didn't need to know the details. The words that were carved into her skin and the blood that stained her thighs was enough for him to put all the pieces together. He thought back to her story that she shared earlier. It seemed like it was years ago, not merely a few hours before.

The way she stuttered and avoided finishing the sentence when she talked about how the Tsar made her do things.

He clenched his jaw, a vein in his neck bulging.

He yearned to see the happy spark that filled her eyes when they were younger, the childlike innocence that had been pried from her.

He missed the times that they had giggled as they chased each other through the hills, their laughter echoing through the halls.