We•Will•Rise

Chapter Fourteen

I'm woken by the sound of my tent flaps rustling. My first groggy thought is that it's the wind, and I start to turn over. But the sound of heavy breathing is what stops me. Panic courses through my veins and I freeze, my eyes popping open to see the silhouette of a man, his body highlighted by the moonlight. Before I can say anything, he rushes forward, a dagger slipping from under his sleeve and to my throat. His massive palm covers my mouth, stifling my surprised scream.
"Quiet," he snarls, digging the blade deep enough into the bottom of my chin to draw blood. I don't recognize the voice, and my first instinct is that someone's taking over the camp. But the moonlight shines on a bright armoured chest plate and I know. It's one of the Sultans.
I struggle against him despite the blade digging deeper into my throat. But his body weighs me down, making it hard to move anything but my feet. My arms are trapped between his chest and my stomach, and my legs are pinned underneath his.
"You, Alaya Maltrov, are being charged for your treasonous crimes against the Royal Crown. Queen Lavina herself has ordered your sentence to be worthy of death. I, Felmen Yhgrith, was given the duty of executing that order."  He digs the dagger deeper into my throat, hard enough to break a few layers of skin. I scream and curse against his palm, shouting threats I know I couldn't follow, not while pinned underneath him. I'm going to die; not by the hands of the vamphir, but by a servant of the Queen.
No. Not happening.
I kick out, managing to get one of my legs free and I use that as leverage, bending my knee so my foot is flat against the ground and bucking us towards the left, thanking the Gods my strength far outweighs his. The dagger slips as we tilt, not deep enough to cut anything vital, but still the blade slices across my throat hard enough to draw more blood. The Sultan and I rotate to the left, his fingers digging into my cheeks so his hand doesn't lose its grip over my mouth while his dagger hand goes to the ground to catch himself from falling. I use my now free left leg to knee him in the groan and he grunts, instinctively curling in himself. I yank my arms loose and go for the dagger still in my sleeve, slipping it out and stabbing him in his side. He hisses in pain and I twist it in deeper, shoving him off of me and yanking the dagger free to take it with me. He slides to the left, panting heavily from his wound as I dive out of the tent, letting out a piercing scream. But the Sultan is quick to recover. He grabs a handful of my hair and shoves me to my knees, the dagger back at my throat. Nikolai is there in seconds, standing in front of us with his sword at the ready. He takes in the sight in front of him, eyes narrowed dangerously and focused on the Sultan behind me. The other Sultans come out of their tents, all with varying degrees of worry on their face. They see their friend holding the dagger to my neck and I hear Garreth take a deep breath in surprise.
"I'm leaving with the girl and no one is going to stop me."
"Felmen, what are you doing?" Garreth says softly, taking a step forward. Felmen digs the dagger deeper and Garreth stops in his tracks, his eyes going to my already bleeding throat.
"You're all traitors. Queen Lavina made it clear, this girl is a treasonous Imordal. She's worthy of death."
"She saved our lives, the Queen's included," Torin says in a gruff voice.
"You all know what is going to happen when the vamphir's are defeated," Felmen begins, sounding like he'd rather cut all of their throats and not just mine, "The Imordals will kill all of us and this girl will be their Queen. We'll be slaughtered."
"We aren't like your kind," I snap, making him press the tip of the blade into my chin, but I continue anyway. "We don't kill what's different, we embrace it."
"Shut up," he snarls, yanking harder on my hair. I wince, my grip tightening on my dagger, fingers itching to use it again. "What you say means nothing, Imordal." He yanks me to my feet by my hair and starts sidestepping towards the horses. I meet Nikolai's gaze, his face highlighted in the moonlight at this angle. His narrowed eyes are cold, calculating and his jaw is tight enough to crack his teeth. "She's going to pay for her actions and none of you can stop me."
"Correction," a familiar voice says from somewhere behind me and Felmen goes stiff. "I can." My stomach plummets to my knees as Felmen curses. "Drop the dagger."
"What the fuck," Garreth whispers, glancing from the buggy where the Captain should be then back behind Felmen where he is instead. The dagger from my neck slowly inches away and I waste no time slamming my foot down on Felmen's, making him hunch over in pain as I dart away from his grip. Nikolai catches me, pulling me into him, the smell of the outside and pine enveloping me as I fall into his chest. He's shaking from adrenaline—or maybe rage—and his arms come around my waist, solid and strong like a band of steel. My heart flutters, either from his closeness or my brush with death I'm not sure.
I turn in his grip, just in time to see Captain Xanvier use his chains—which are wrapped around Felmen's throat—to break his neck, twisting it rapidly to the side with a crack. Felmen crumbles, his knees buckling underneath his limp weight and he crashes to the ground. Captain Xanvier is smiling, a sinister one that is directed right towards me. I swallow the pity I feel in my gut from Felmen's sudden death. It leaves a sour taste in my mouth, just as any premature death would. Even if the man was going to kill me in my sleep.
"That was a close one, little raven. Maybe you should be more careful who you trust." His eyes slide over to Garreth and the other Sultans who look just as stunned as I feel.
"Thank you," I say, my voice surprisingly steady. "How did you—"
"Simple. All eyes were on him, not on me, and his were on Garreth. You work with what you have, little raven." Captain Xanvier shrugs before walking back towards the buggy. Garreth shakes his shock away and helps Captain Xanvier back onto the carriage.
"But why?" I ask him.
"Can't one Imordal help another?" He asks, making me go stiff. Garreth and the other Sultans shoot him a look of disbelief as Xanvier ambles back to his spot.
"There's no way," Edmund says, his fingers pressed against his temples.
"Believe what you wish, but I for one would enjoy seeing that bitch queen burn. And you, little raven, will be the one to do it, even if you don't know it yet." He wags a finger at me before laying down. His two crew members give me a mischievous smile before curling back up.
I turn back around in Nikolai's grip, craning my neck to look at him. I think about how Xanvier claimed they knew each other since Nikolai was a boy. That would mean. . .  "You knew, didn't you?" He only nods in response, his eyes darting from where the Captain sleeps then back to me.
"He doesn't do things out of the kindness of his heart, Alaya, there's always an ulterior motive." Nikolai warns, squeezing my waist. I lift my hand up to his chest, right over his heart, feeling its strong, rapid beat under my palm. I look back up at him, our eyes locking. Something passes through them, a fleeting emotion I couldn't catch and he leans down, placing his forehead on mine and closing his eyes. I freeze, unsure of what to do. My heart is beating like a rabbit's and I don't know if it's from the adrenaline or his closeness, but it's annoying either way. To make it worse, the traitorous warmth in my stomach spreads into my hand where we touch. Even though he keeps so much to himself, I can still feel the sadness and rage rolling off of him in waves, both from his years of life and from tonight. It seeps into my heart and seems to make the warmth grow stronger, twisting in my stomach like a ball of fire. It felt like physical pain almost; hot and searing. He doesn't deserve that pain. So I decide to, for once, release it. It unfurls from my palm and into Nikolai, spreading around his heart and through his veins.  The heat in my stomach and at my palm starts to dissipate, disappearing along with his pain and anger. His heart beat slows to its normal rate and his eyelashes flutter against my skin, the tension in his grip slowly leaking. He lets out a breath he had been holding and pulls back, giving me a look.
"Did you—"
"I'm sorry," I say immediately, shaking my head and starting to pull back as sharp regret tightens my chest. His grip hardens, keeping me in place.
"Thank you." He mutters, lifting one of his hands and brushing my hair from my face, his fingers feather-light across my skin.
"Are you alright, Miss?" Garreth says, sounding unsure as he walks up to us with the other five Sultans. I pull back from Nikolai and he hesitantly drops his arms, leaving me feeling oddly cold.
"I'm fine," I nod, crossing my arms over my chest to regain some sense of warmth. "I expect you won't be the next one crawling into my tent with a dagger."
He looks insulted, "Of course not."
"Forgive us, Alaya," Torin says, stepping up, "We didn't know Felmen felt that way. He seemed like he wanted to join in on the cause."
"Because the Queen sent him with one duty," Nikolai begins from behind me, making me turn. "She had him pretend so he could get close enough to Alaya to kill her. The rest of you five would do well to remember that I won't bat an eye to slit your throat if you even look at Alaya the wrong way, do you understand?"
Garreth swallows hard, but they all nod. "No harm will come to her from us," Orian says, placing his hand over his heart. "I swear it on my life."
Edmund and Torin say the same, followed by Garreth and Ricket. Nikolai nods and waves them off. Garreth and the others look at me for dismissal and I frown at them, but nod. They turn and start walking back to their spots, Garreth looking back only for a moment before sliding into his tent.
"Alaya," Nikolai says, sounding troubled again, "my apologies I couldn't help—"
"No, no," I shush him, placing a hand on his chest. "I know you wouldn't let anything happen to me. As I wouldn't let anything happen to you." I add the last part quietly before dropping my hand. "Why don't we share the tent?" I ask. My question must catch him off guard because he blinks roughly and tilts his head ever so slightly to the left.
"Are you sure?"
"Well, mostly," I shrug, "But I trust you more than anything, so I'd feel a lot safer. Plus it is your tent and I need help bandaging this up." I say, pointing at my throat. How wonderful that I can walk around with a slit on my throat and claw marks across my cheek; I'll permanently look like I'm fresh out of a fight. Maybe it will make all five-six of me more intimidating.
"Okay," he says, reaching out and lifting my chin to take a look at the damage. His eyes turn hard and his mouth sets in a grim line. "At least it isn't worse." He says, as if comforting himself with the idea. I nod as he drops my chin. We walk back over to the tent, ducking inside where I grab my pack and pull out a piece of cloth and a small bottle of absinthe, handing it over to Nikolai. I sit with my legs underneath me and pull the blanket over them, watching as he pours the absinthe on the cloth. He comes to sit in front of me, legs crossed as he gingerly lifts my chin, his fingers warm against my skin. I try to focus on that instead of the burn when he rubs the cloth across my throat, wiping away the dried blood and cleaning the wound.
"Thank you," I say, my voice strained from the sting of the alcohol.
Nikolai glances up from where he works to meet my gaze and gives me a light smile. "You should be glad you don't need stitches," he says, handing me back the bottle of absinthe. I take it from him and place it back in my pack.
"I suppose I'm lucky," I say with a sigh. He drops my chin, but instead of pulling away he places his palm against my cheek, his calloused skin rough and warm against my face.
"You're a strong woman, Alaya, strong women don't need luck." He starts to pull away, but I place my hand over his, my fingers curling around his palm. We stay like that for a moment, staring at each other like there isn't a raging world around us. I search his face for any sign of regret or fear or any negative emotion that warns me to pull back. But all I see in his emerald eyes is a warmness and seriousness that leaves me breathless and aching. It's just as reassuring as it is intimidating, and I find myself wanting to draw in closer. His hand on my face is suddenly not enough contact between us and I have the unbearable need to feel his sturdy, lean chest against my own, feel his strong arms wrap around my waist and his body flushed against mine. My body reacts without command and I lean in closer, my grip tightening on his hand as our eyes meet. It's only when his gaze falls on my lips that I panic. My hand falls and I drop my head to stare down at the blanket, letting my fear swallow up the aching need to touch him that pooled in my chest only moments ago. Nikolai pulls away after a second longer, his vivid eyes still searching my face. If he's disappointed, he doesn't show it.
"We should get some sleep." I say, knowing good and well I won't even be able to. Nikolai nods as I curl up in the blankets, laying back against the ground. Nikolai does the same, taking residence on the far other side of the tent. He leaves an arm's length between us, which makes me both grateful and disappointed. It's annoyingly confusing. Part of me wants to pull him closer to feel his presence against my back, and the other part wants nothing to do with that idea only because that part of me is scared. It's a confusing, conflicted mess. I release a breath in aggravation and roll to face him. He's watching me, his eyes fixed on mine. I close my eyes to avoid his stare and settle deeper into the blanket. But after a few solid minutes I realize I was right, falling back asleep is just impossible and not only because of Nikolai's presence, but because of the overwhelming sense of awareness I have of my surroundings from my near-death experience. The whole ordeal makes me even more aggravated. I can't win.
"You'll never be able to sleep, tense like that." Nikolai says, making me crack my eyes back open. I sigh and push the blanket further off of me, picking at a loose thread.
"I suppose not."
"Do you want to talk about what's bothering you?" He asks, sitting up and propping his cheek on his fist. I frown at him. Of course, let's talk about how one half of me desperately wants to let him in and the other half is horridly opposed to the idea. What could be awkward about that?
"You aren't tired?" I ask instead of answering, suddenly finding the task of knotting the thread very captivating.
"Of course I am, but I can't sleep knowing you're a bundle of nerves beside me."
I glance up at him, "I suppose I should have warned you."
"I know what I'm getting myself into, Alaya," he says in a serious voice. Suddenly I don't think we're talking about sleeping. I look back down at the thread, twisting it between my fingers.
"You should try to sleep so at least one of us does." I drop it and roll back over, tugging the blanket over my head. I hear him sigh and fall back to the ground, flipping onto his back. The rest of the night is spent in silence, him sleeping—I think—while I wonder what exactly it is I'm running from.