The King's Cursed Bride

Abandoned: Part 4

"No!" Carissa ducked beneath her captor's Scythe and twisted from his grip. She blindly lunged toward Kerstin, unsure as to what she could do but knowing she could do something.

But the Scythe pierced Kerstin's chest long before Carissa reached her. Carissa could do nothing but stare and press her hand to the blackened wound. She'd just allowed the death of Lyron's mother. How would Lyron—

"No!" he cried. "Moth—"

He fell silent, as if his words had been severed midair.

Carissa glanced at him, and her heart stilled, as if refusing to acknowledge what she saw. The Reaper had embedded the Scythe into Lyron's back. As he jerked it free, Lyron gasped, his face scrunched in agony.

Carissa rushed to him, but by the time she had pulled him into her arms, the light had faded from his gaze. He was stiller than any person should be. His eyes stared blankly up at her, glazed as if they saw past her.

He would never see her again. Never speak to her. Never touch her.

Carissa wrapped him more tightly in her arms and pressed her palm to the wound in his back, as if she could stem the life ebbing from him. She rocked him back and forth, his name pouring from her lips onto deaf ears.

The sobs broke from her, no matter how she tried to stuff them back down her throat. She pressed her face into the crook of his neck, damp from perspiration, and cried.

When the blade of a Scythe settled against her own back, she did nothing. The world was bleak and colorless, the lust for life sapped from her heart. She had failed; it was only fair that she pay the price.

"No, wait."

The Scythe was lifted from her back. "We can't possibly leave her alive."

"And why ever not? We should leave the King at least something to come back to, or else he might immediately come after us. And besides, I'm certain the Queen has much she'd like to say to the King, isn't that right?"

The words rolled over her, but she couldn't bring herself to care enough to respond. Let Elon find the camp burnt to the ground and littered in corpses. He'd foreseen this, so he wouldn't be surprised.

A knot of bitterness tightened within her chest. He had known this would happen. And he'd abandoned her anyway. He'd abandoned all of them, even after they'd pledged their lives to him.

"But what if she follows us?"

"Ensure she is unarmed and tie her to a tree." Cold skeletal fingers curled beneath her chin and wrenched her head upward. "I'm certain the King will be grateful to find his lovely bride still alive."

Arms hauled her backward, and the fire within her roared to life. They would not take her from Lyron. She scooped a dagger off of the ground and plunged it into her assailant's chest, then his neck. More hands clawed at her, and as the Reapers crowded near, she could see nothing beyond their black cloaks.

When her dagger was jerked away, she used the only weapons they'd left her: her teeth and nails. Though she struggled and screamed, they eventually dragged her to the tree, wrapping a chain around her left wrist and tying it to the trunk.

She lunged at them, and to her satisfaction, they all darted back a step. As she tugged again, pain gripped her shoulder. But no matter how she strained, the chain remained unyielding.

After they slaughtered the remaining caravan members, they all ghosted back into the forest, rolling back like a black fog.

Carissa jerked at her bindings until the chain sunk into her skin, making blood drip from her wrist. Once she was freed, she'd hunt every single Reaper down. She wouldn't stop until they were all dead. And if she died in the process, so be it.

Eventually, her energy ebbed. She stopped to consider her wrist. Then she surveyed her surroundings. There were no weapons nearby that she could use to hack at the chains. She glanced up at the gray sky. Elon was supposed to arrive today. She clenched her jaw. If he had only deigned to arrive sooner. But perhaps she should wait for him to free—

No. He had abandoned her in her time of greatest need. She was done waiting for Elon. She would simply have to free herself.

Carissa twisted her wrist, and the chain slid about it more easily. Her skin was thoroughly coated in blood, making it slippery. Perhaps it was enough to slip out of the chains. If not, she could always break her thumb.

She worked the chain down her hand. It squeezed her fingers tightly, even though she bunched her fingers together, attempting to make them as small as possible. Pain wrapped around her knuckled until she feared they would crack. But it was nothing compared to the agony that ravaged her within.

She tried several times, and just as she feared she would have to break something, the chain slid a bit farther. It was nearly squeezing the life out of her hand, but it was progress. With another few minutes of working, she managed to pull it off.

She flexed her blood-stained hand and surveyed the Reaper's handiwork.

The tents and wagons had been burned to the ground, reduced to smoldering wood and canvas. Some of the animals had escaped. The ones that hadn't had also been set aflame.

The forest was littered in people, in some areas three bodies high. Some wore blank, peaceful expressions, as if they merely slept, while others' were frozen in horror, eyes frightened and wide, mouths stretched in silent screams.

She should go after the Reapers, but every part of her body ached. She simply wanted to lie down and join the corpses in their rest.

She stumbled over the bodies, her mind hardly comprehending what she saw. A girl with ribbons in her hair. A mother clinging to her infant. A man whose face was so mutilated it was no longer recognizable.

How had the Reapers found them? Perhaps they had sensed her, and she'd drawn them near. But then the image of a face swam before her eyes: hard eyes, a scarred jaw.

Or perhaps someone had betrayed them.

***

Author's Note: I added the sneak peak to today's chapter to make it longer, so I'm afraid there's no sneak peak today. :P