The Claimed: A Clash of Copper and Gold

Chapter 25: Trog

An hour later, I sat at a fire pit across from Ruck and the two Trogolese guards, with Trebalda on my right and Niako on my left. The lambent glow sharpened the angles of Niako's profile while softening his eyes... his hair... his lips. Instead of satisfying me, that one kiss had just opened the door to a new realm of possibilities and desires.

Niako turned to meet my gaze. His eyebrows lifted and lips twitched as he dipped his head in acknowledgement. Heat rose inside me in response, but now desire rather than embarrassment fueled the burn. I remembered how he yielded beneath my fingertips and gasped when my lips grazed his neck.

He could smirk at me all he wanted. I knew he was mine.

"So, Ruck," said Trebalda from my right as she poked at the fire, "Please explain why you are here representing Trog after spending the last fifteen years as Niako's guard in Rakim."

I blinked and pulled my gaze away from Niako.

Ruck said, "When Rakim raided Trog fifteen years ago, they murdered my wife and son."

Niako's head jerked toward Ruck, and the fire poker rolled out of Trebalda's hand.

Ruck squinted at the fire, eyes barely visible slits. "They also Claimed a few Trogolese, including Princess Anopa. Makash calls her Obsidian. Then the Trogolese queen asked a volunteer to infiltrate Rakim."

The woman beside him stroked the bronze hair on her cheeks and shuddered. "So Ruck burned his face to hide his heritage and applied to guard the Rakim chief's little brat."

I suddenly remembered Ruck watching Obsidian as we sat on the palace steps so long ago. "You planned to rescue the princess?" I asked.

"Hmm..." Ruck shifted and lifted a finger to scratch his lumpy nose. "Actually, Princess Anopa did not wish to simply be rescued, and the people of Trog desired more than the princess's safe return. They wanted revenge."

Trebalda lifted the poker to prod a crumbling log in the fire. "What kind of revenge?"

When Ruck's gaze flitted to Niako on my left, a cold foreboding pushed through my stomach. Suddenly, I did not want to hear Ruck's next words.

"I planned to take the chief's younger son back to Trog," said Ruck. "Everyone who lost someone to Rakim would cut a piece off the boy in a public ceremony. And I would deliver the pieces back to Rakim."

In the silence that followed, the crackling fire and hum of insects suddenly sounded ominous, and dark shadows shifted around us. Nausea bubbled in my gut like poison as my mind unwillingly conjured the image of a ten-year-old Niako, strung up and sliced to pieces. I glanced at Niako now, both to gauge his reaction and to reassure myself he was still whole.

Staring into the fire motionlessly, Niako said, "Well, that sounds... unpleasant."

"It does," Ruck grunted in agreement.

I itched to scoot closer to Niako and wrap an arm over his shoulder, but I wasn't sure the gesture would be appreciated. Instead, I laid my left hand palm-up on the ground beside me and slid it a few inches toward him.

His gaze dropped to contemplate the offer. After a moment, he reached a shaky hand toward mine. When I threaded my fingers through his, he gripped tightly.

Across the pit, Ruck's eyes locked on our joined hands, and his lips twisted in a... grimace?

No. It was a smile.

But the smile dropped before he resumed speaking.

"At first, it all seemed too good to be true. The king and queen asked nothing of my background and offered me a week off each month. And as my supervisor, Makash assured me I would not be held responsible if my charge disappeared. All I needed to do was persuade the boy to come see my sailboat. But he refused to go anywhere near water."