Lamb Amongst Wolves

|2. Silver Isn't Gold.

Rhyeesha had come across many difficulties during her twenty years, seen men and women downed on the battlefield, watched crows tear into the flesh of her fallen brethren-and even if her father had taught her to wield a sword and her mother the bow, she felt as though her life was in danger the longer she stood around Kjartaan Vulgaris.

The warrior watched her every move, insulted her intelligence without being straightforward, and something about his eyes-so grey and fathomless, made her breath catch every time. She didn't want to be here but the situation was out of her hands. She was reaping what she sowed from what she'd done five years ago.

Over her shoulder, she'd seen him eyeing her, gaze never wavering the closer she'd gotten to the doorway. There seemed to be some unspoken promise. Kjartaan's lips curled at their corners, setting wrinkles on his jaw. He could attempt to instill fear inside her all he wanted, but he wouldn't shake her.

Before she could even reach the threshold, some tall, midnight skinned woman intercepted. Her frame blocked the sight of the exit; a solid impassable wall, and Rhyeesha knew that if she were to have taken a step further the woman would have knocked her head clean off. Rhyeesha took hold of her dagger sitting securely against her thigh underneath her dress.

"I dun' believe my Jarl was done with his dance." The woman spoke while placing a hand on Rhyeesha's shoulder, turning her back around, steering her towards Kjaartan. The grip was tight, not bruisingly so but just enough to get her point across. It wasn't a request.

Rhyeesha weighed her options: she was a ways away from home with only a few guards. Her mother could fight but she'd more than likely slay four-five men before meeting her ultimate demise. As for her cowardly father, his death would be instant, and that'd be the only thing Rhyeesha would be grateful of her enemies for.

This battle won't be won, though she prayed she could've knocked the dark devil down a few inches. Instead, she rose her chin and turned on the heels of her feet; her back arched confidently as she marched back to her betrothed.

"Making your pets take care of your dirty work, hm? Clever. Just remember that two can play at that game, fool." She hissed, dragging her hand over his waist, towards his weapon, considering when would be the right moment to kill him.

Kjartaan shrugged her words off, his fingers tangling within the hair at the nape of her neck and he jerked her head off toward the side, the tip of his nose burrowing against the crook of her neck. She felt her heart rise into the back of her throat. "I see my guard has talked you into changing your mind?" He said as if she hadn't even spoken, the beginning of an eerie smile creeping across his mouth as he pulled her against his front and swayed them from side to side, vicious as the drums.

He leaned down, lips against her ear while his free hand knocked hers away from his weapon; the weapon he shouldn't have been able to feel her reaching for. He made her clumsy. "Walk away from me again and you'll have to find a way to do that without a spine and with the weapons you have concealed beneath your dress in your back."

Consciously her grip tightened on his shoulder from the threat. She watched him, her own icy blues eyes studying his, and she saw it. The one thing that set her on edge the first time they'd met: the definite glimpse of insanity. Rhyeesha inhaled as calmly as she could, as Kjartaan spun her outwards, and then inwards, dipping her back. The pad of his thumb roamed over her jaw, the fullness of her lips.

"Does that make you a man because you threaten me with your hands?" She asked, loathing the sensation his touch had left behind.

"The real question is, will you still feel brave when I take your protection?"

Rhyeesha's brows furrowed. "What do you mean my-" His warm hand placed itself on her thigh and trailed upward when he thrust his body towards her, others throwing black paint and rolling across the floor as they were accustomed. The dark liquid splashed against them, his hand found its target. The dagger strapped to her leg with a thin piece of fabric. With his thumb, he pushed the blade out of its hilt and weighted it in his hand. Within a second he had its tip at the hollow of her throat. Her own weapon. "Oh." Her lashes fluttered and she swallowed hard, the rise of her throat caused her skin to just graze the cold metal.

"You didn't think I'd know? The moment you walked into this feasting hall I knew you were a shieldmaiden, they never leave home without bringing at least one weapon. You're to be my wife. I don't need anyone thinking you're disinterested." He spoke as though he were whispering sweet nothings in her ear as he moved the blade, running the tip along the delicate skin of her slightly exposed collar bone. It ghosted over her skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

He wasn't wrong, but obviously he hadn't left without his weapons either, considering his mouth seemed to be one of his very own. She was far too close for others to know what he was doing, to know he had something keenly honed against her throat. In fact, they probably looked like an ordinary couple being intimate and ready for a tussle beneah the furs on their bed. "Because I'm not interested. As you said earlier, I don't have much of a choice."

Kjartaan chuckled darkly beneath his breath. "You have such a beautiful mouth, keep talking to your husband-to-be like that and I may have to paint it red with your blood. It would ruin its natural color." His words came low and husk. "You know, there was a girl whose eyes matched your own. Do you want to know what I did to her when she told me no and walked away?"

Rhyeesha could feel the malice behind the question, but she answered anyway. "No."

"When her father went out for a winter's hunt, dear Donia over there," He nodded his head to the door. "Drug her from her bed wearing nothing but her night gown, and brought her to me on her knees. She begged, oh the sound of her voice cracking was delicious, sweet, bitter. The voice of a woman that'd do anything to live. A woman broken before the man she refused to take. I looked into those impossible blue eyes of hers, leaned forward, and dug the keen tip of my favorite dagger into her eye sockets. Slowly, real sloooow. I didn't want to ruin its beauty. Donia held her still as I carved her eyes out. Of course the woodcutter's daughter didn't give me her heart either. So, of course me being me, I carved her heart out too. I remember how it felt thumping against my fingers, crimson trailing down my palm and spurting all over my face, sticky and hot. Nothing's better than a fresh present that smells of iron. I won't have to do that to you, will I? To your parents if you so much as whisper what I've told you tonight?" Kjartaan pulled back when the song stopped, chest heaving.

This man was insane. Mad. The devil Volva's often spoke of. She watched his hand dip into the pocket of his leather pants and retrieve a singular blue eyeball before stuffing it back inside, then he kissed the back of her hand. It wad like he'd been prepared for her misbehavior, as though he'd done this a thousand times before and knew each possible outcome. Would she be broken like that too if she kept running from him? His story, that woman, her father, they had all been true. No words came to mind. Nothing. Rhyeesha stood there, staring at him dumbfoundedly.

"I'll see you again. Take care of yourself. For I am the only man who'll have or take your life if I so choose." Waving, he beckoned the midnight skinned woman to follow him out.

She watched her soon to be husband leave, her body standing in shock even after he left. She had one hand up as if she were still holding onto his shoulder, whilst her other was still resting on her waist. She dropped them both down to her stomach and straightened her back. This was real. His words were true. Rhyeesha had waved down her handmaiden, who was in deep conversation with a rather dashing young man.

They left for the guest chambers. She wished to be alone with her thoughts, and she couldn't handle talking to her father about the insult of a fiancée that Kjartaan played as. She knew love once. This was certainly not it.

When Rhyeesha reached her room, she threw the door open and demanded immediately for her dress to be removed. The anxious hands of her handmaid scurried to remove the fabric. She grunted and pulled it off of her shoulders, moving towards the cot against the wall, perched against the side.

She let her gaze linger on Eryka for a long moment once she'd made herself comfortable. Then she slowly tilted her head in curiosity.

"Eryka. What were you and father talking about at supper? It bothered my betrothed so very much." Lie. A lie, that only Rhysand would have seen through. She didn't care. She wanted to know.

Her handmaiden folded her hands in front of her, her cheeks flushed red. She allowed her knees to buckle below her and she stared up at Rhyeesha with a mixmatched gaze; one eye glassed over and unseeing while the other remained a striking and prominent sable.

"Trade, your grace. That's all." Came Eryka's meek reply.

Rhyeesha was sure that wasn't all, but she wasn't one to pry. She lifted her hand to tell her maid to stand, and she pointed to the door. "Go on. Leave. I can handle myself for tonight." The woman left without another word.