The King's Prey (Unedited Edition)

Chapter 11 : Friend or Foe

Yonderly • [yawn-der-ly]
Mentally or emotionally distant; absent-minded.

🖤

~+~

We've only been trudging through the snow for a few minutes, going god knows where in these ominous woods. Liam seems as though he wants nothing to do with me, like babysitting my ass has already become a bore—like my human presence is an unneeded burden for him to carry.

I stay several steps behind him for precautionary measures; I'm surprised that he hasn't checked to see if I've attempted to escape yet. Then again, I can only imagine how superior his hearing is given he's part wolf.

We don't speak most of the time as we follow a trail that seems to have been walked along before, the snow being beat into the ground by footprints. The sun continues to set on the horizon, but most of the light is blocked by the tall, thick trees. The silence becomes increasingly eerie with every step.

My body is already rigid enough from being somewhere other than Mylithia; I've always been taught that anywhere outside of its walls is considered a wild vastness of destruction—anywhere uncivil at least, like here.

I guess they call this place Phantomridge, wherever—or whatever—it is. I can only recall bits and pieces of information from the Snow Ball, every other small detail was wiped away after I was drugged.

But out here...it's...barbarous. Even the woods scream of supernatural powers. How can Liam be so calm out here? How has he adapted to this untamed lifestyle?

Other than the wind and the swaying woods, all that consumes my ears is the crunching snow beneath my feet.  I can't complain though, it's a relief to be outside—out of that damn house. I was able to look back at its size before we were fully enclosed by the timber. Even though the large trees make it look minuscule, its ginormous structure was professionally crafted by whoever had built it.

While observing my surroundings better before our walk, I spotted another house off in the distance, similar in style and size to Samuel's. The woods provided enough privacy between the two structures that made it seem as though they were in separate communities.

The fresh cold air is inviting into my lungs. I keep my gloved hands stuffed into my pockets to contain whatever warmth I can. It's not until we loop our way back to the house after the sun has nearly disappeared in the sky when I finally decide to make conversation—only because I can't stand the sound of the woods anymore.

"Are you Samuel's wingman or something?" I mutter, continuing to stay a few steps behind Liam.

He doesn't face me as he replies, "If that's what you want to call it, then sure." His tone is nothing short of annoyed. "Why do you care anyway? I thought you said you hated us mutts."

I ignore his rudeness. "I might as well learn something about your kind since I don't have much free will anymore."

He scoffs, "Trust me, you're the first human on our lands that's ever been given this much free will out of the rest that ever come here."

The rest that come here...

"Do humans normally...live on your lands?" I struggle to form the next few words as I add, "...with free will?"

A long sigh from Liam creates a fog of air in front of his face before it quickly evaporates. I must've struck a chord in him with my questions.

"Humans don't live on any werewolf territory as far as I know—especially Phantomridge. It's not allowed since it would create an uproar with our citizens. Most of the time they're sent to slave camps with little freedoms."

A chill runs down my back at the idea of it.

"Am I some sort of exception then?" I ask, pushing down the gruesome images. Why did Samuel let me sleep in his home if I'm not welcomed around their kind? If I'm such a nuisance then he surely made the wrong decision about my fate.

Liam only shrugs, his back muscles flexing under his cotton long-sleeve. "I think he's trying to figure out if you're worth the trouble or not."

"If he's going to kill off my people, kill my king, and enslave me to a life among you beasts, then how the hell does he not know what to do with me?!" I huff out, the rage running through my veins.

I normally try to contain my temper—which only sparks on rare occasions—but I think with the lack of social interactions I've had during the past four days in that damn room, I've turned into a screaming teapot impatiently waiting to be taken off the stove.

Liam stops and turns to face me so abruptly that I nearly slam into his chest. He towers over me as I take in the stark look across his face that says it all. "Listen, if you're going to keep complaining about the outcome of your situation, then be my fucking guest. But just know you're damn lucky to even be well fed and cared for. You're lucky to not be chained in a cell, fed a single meal of rotting food a day, and forced to do agonizing labor. Samuel spared you for whatever foolish reason he had. Most humans captured by Phantomridge aren't as fortunate as you."

I freeze from where I stand, terrified to entice Liam further. His body is a solid foot away from mine—it feels far, but in reality, I can feel the heat radiating off of him. I don't speak, unable to form a coherent response.

I take note of the fact that he's not shivering and barely wearing enough given the weather conditions. It must be some supernatural ability that werewolves have. Unable to feel cold—unable to feel anything.

We only stare at one another in the frigid temperatures before he finally speaks. "Samuel wants you to eat with him tonight in the dining room. I'll walk you back." His tone still holds the heaviness of our argument, but it's more composed now. It's as if he had just wiped away our discussion.

Liam just turns back as he continues the trek to the house, now visible in the near distance. It takes me a second to render his movements before I follow in step behind him.

The sudden request makes every nerve in my body feel as though it's burning with anticipation—the anticipation of potentially bargaining my way out of this mess. Whatever the reason is, I'm sure it's important considering I haven't seen Samuel since the incident with his stalkerish behavior.

Why the hell do I have to eat with Samuel though? I thought his four-day disappearance was enough of a message saying he'd gotten sick of me—not that I don't resent the lack of his presence. Maybe he finally wants to discuss the matter of my situation.

Good. I can get the answers I need to ask him the questions that have been swarming my mind for the past several days. Let's just hope I won't have to gouge my eyes out with silverware if things take a turn for the worse.

~+~