His Captive Sorceress

Chapter 4: I Don't Like Soldiers

It's been a long time since I've worn anything on my feet. These boots make the dirt road indistinguishable from a polished wooden floor. I no longer need to pay attention to where I step.

My gaze returns to Trevus. His hand still rests on my shoulders as we walk, but I've become more accustomed to it. It was kind of him to spend all those coins on my bath and new outfit.

Trevus takes me across the street to a tavern with outside seating. A hip-high picketed wooden fence separates the patron tables from the road, and white tarps form a tent roof overhead.

He gestures for me to take a seat on the bench at a large wooden table. I sit down, and he settles on the opposite bench, leaving us face to face. He leans in, resting his hands on the table. My arms are tucked in at my sides. He's a man of large stature, with broad shoulders, a sharp, square jaw and serious blue eyes. All of his attention is on me, and it makes me fidget on the bench.

I keep my gaze away from him, instead glancing at the other patrons at their own tables. There are bands of farmers, artisans and soldiers in gray uniform. What do others see when they look at our table? Instead of a prisoner, I have the appearance of a soldier. It would be obvious to anyone that my outfit matches Trevus's, but I've never seen soldiers in black uniform before. The sleeves around my hands are to prevent me from posing a threat to Trevus or anyone else, but to those who don't know me, they just look like gloves or bandages. They are my invisible bonds.

"Before we venture out," Trevus gestures to the city gates at the end of the dirt road. "'Tis imperative that you comprehend your position."

The air is taught with tension. Unsure of where the conversation is headed, I practice caution and stay quiet.

"Though you now wear an oban, do not mistake yourself for a capital guard. You, Jade of Mephia, remain a prisoner of the Kingdom of Versillia. You shall serve the officers of Versillia, such as myself, as well as the citizens of Versillia. Should you choose to disobey issued commands, or attempt to venture out on your own, the consequences shall be severe. As we shall be traveling, any insubordination would designate you as an unruly convoy captive. The punishment of such an offense is death, which I as an officer of Versillia, am authorized to carry out."

My fingers curl into fists under the table. While his gestures of new clothes and warm baths may make him appear pleasant on the surface, deep down, he's just as vile as any other soldier. The entire reason that he's bringing me along is to unleash my connection on his enemies. I'm destined to disobey him, and then he'll kill me anyway. Escaping is my only option.

"Do you understand?" He's annoyed with my lack of response.

I give him a sharp look. "You didn't need to explain that you'd kill me in the wilderness if you felt like it. You're a soldier. I knew you were scum the moment I saw you."

He rubs his thumb across his chin, my words catching him off guard. I'll do what he says to keep my head on my shoulders, but that doesn't mean I'm going to fake a smile.

"You behave," he pauses, choosing his words, "surprisingly audacious for one in your position. I suspect that your sorcery is the root of your hubris."

I decide to look at the wooden decor around the tavern instead. I'm not going to participate in his attempt to invade my mind. He's wrong. I'm not proud of my connection – I loathe it. It's the reason behind all of the hardship I've had to endure. I'd wish it away if I could.

A tall blonde waitress arrives at our table. "My greetings. What fare do you two desire?" she asks.

Trevus hands her a silver coin. "One bowl of tomato soup. That is all."