Conquering The Unbroken

Chapter 48

As soon as I walked out of our residence this morning, I knew I'd come face to face with the one witch I don't want to speak to. I stop in my tracks and slam the door behind me, glaring at Alaric as he glares back.

His nostrils flare. "This is your plan?" He demands.

I don't give him the courtesy of an answer and snarl, slinging my pack over my shoulder and stomping down the street. A second later, he trudges after me but I keep my stare ahead of me, down the dirt street that curves towards the community kitchens, and once past that, towards the outskirts of Arego that head in the direction of the capital.

Last night was the first night I actually slept without waking or having a single nightmare. Normally, my sleep is consumed by one cruel reminder after the other, whether my mind waking me up to remind me we have to kill the king or my dreams, telling me I only have so long before Renit or the king snaps my neck. Throughout that, I struggle. But last night wasn't the case.

It could be the full meal, Renit's distraction, our conversation about making a plan for ourselves—I don't know. But it worked. Alaric will not keep up with me, he can't for I'm walking too quickly, but he grabs onto my arm and tugs me to face him. When I do, whirling so fast I don't expect the dagger at my throat, I snarl again through my teeth.

"Keep doing that all you like," Alaric chides, pressing the dagger farther onto my neck. I raise my chin higher in a foolish attempt to avoid the sharp blade. "You're only proving how much of an animal you are, and if you've forgotten, the rabid beasts spill blood once someone slices into their throat."

I click my tongue. "To answer your question; this is my plan. It's called action, and we can't go up against the king with the numbers we have. Unless you're willing to send your soldiers to die in the castle's courtyard, I suggest you rethink," I snap.

The warm dribble of my blood trickles down my neck but I ignore it and strength my stare to prove to Alaric that I have nothing to lose. Renit may not be here—he left already to prepare our trip and alert the other rebels—but I don't need him. I don't need anyone else that may wish to help me out of this, and it'll be Alaric's questions to answer when anyone that cares about me sees the blood soaking into my shirt, tied at the chest.

"We don't need numbers." Alaric displays his animalistic qualities with a snarl of his own. "We need immortal powers."

Finding some strength within me that I didn't realize I had before, I grab onto Alaric's forearm and shove him away. The baffled look on his face, mixed with confusion, is more of an answer to his thoughts than he thinks. He wants to come at me again, this time with the dagger aiming for my heart. We've never gotten along. The silent glares, the questioning waves, the tense arguments during meetings.

Renit's influence isn't what makes me hate Alaric. It's his small influence on the rebellion and the permanent dent in the cushion of his desk chair. There's a reason the battle plans spread out on his desk never see the light of day. He doesn't allow them to, for he never works on them.

"If you can't realize it yourself, you're starting to sound like the king." That's as much of an insult as I can give him. "Of course we need immortal powers, but we can't get those if we don't go in search of them. If we can go to Ducoria and Saebia to gather those powers, our problems are solved." I fold my hands behind my back and raise my chin high so he can view the cut along my throat. "I don't recall you doing anything to help."

"You are no leader."

"No, I am not." He blinks at me. "I am not a leader; leaders sit on their asses and wait for others to get the work done. I, for one, would rather spend my days searching for the help we need rather than waiting for someone to do it—then bitching at the thought of someone doing it without my permission."