To Defend A Bride (Entangled with the Enduar #3)

Chapter 16

Chapter 16

RA’SA

S leep didn’t come easily. Throughout the night, I clutched a tiny stone in my hand, desperate to ensure that my glamour doesn’t fade. At some point, my Fuegorra started to burn, and I rolled over to ensure it didn’t wake anyone. It was an uncomfortable way to rest.

The hut that the working men are meant to share is large but overcrowded. It's a combination of mud bricks and wooden sheets that lay precariously against each other and do the absolute minimum to keep the chilled air out.

There is a smell that seems to cling to the walls like a man hanging onto the side of a cliff for dear life. It is musty and pungent, like unwashed feet.

The room is cold enough that my breath is visible. I adjust on the poorly made bunk, my feet hanging off the edge. There's barely enough space for me to stretch my shoulders, as there’s a man on either side of me.

When the other men stir, I sit up, grateful to stretch out my sore, cramped limbs. Their movement causes more smells to ripen in the air, but the stench doesn’t bother me so much. The eerie silence does.

No one speaks as we pull on our boots and soiled shirts before shuffling out of the room.

Men of all ages are around me, but I tense when I see a few children sporting the faces of men as they dress and grab their hats.

Children.

They should be playing in the woods, not destroying them.

A few people cast me confused glances as they crane their necks to take in my full height. Others bare their teeth, and I think about what Eneko said about those with giant blood. It won't be easy to make friends.

When we walk outside, I follow a silent group until we reach a large fire. Three giants are standing behind red-faced humans tending to an enormous iron pot covered in cooked-on fat and scorched food.

The guards watch us as we approach the dozens of long wooden tables. There are no chairs, and the closer I get, the more I realize the weathered surfaces are covered in a thick layer of grime. My lips pull back at the dreadful conditions.

Inwardly, I grimace, dreading whatever slop they intend me to put in my mouth. The closer I get, the stronger I smell soured meat.

I watch the men and women dribble out of their dens, step in front of me, and shuffle past the table. Each takes a bowl and waits for it to be filled before scattering. Some go back to the half-wood, half-mud houses; others go to lean against some of the trees or find rocks poking out of the snow to sit on.

After I’m served the slop, I find an unoccupied tree and grab a crudely carved spoon. As I bring the mush to my mouth, I nearly choke on the smell.

This goes beyond soured meat. Something akin to too-sweet berries burrows deep in my senses. The food is definitely poisoned. It is likely not enough to kill everyone, but enough to kill a few.

When I sneak another glance to survey the other slaves, some eat like normal.

Interesting. I’ll need to wake up earlier tomorrow and hunt something.

You should get food for Melisa, too. Now that you know what she likes…

I bite my lip. Hopefully, she is well.

Perhaps I shouldn’t worry so much about her. She’s made it clear that she doesn’t think I would be a fit mate… but she let me hold her through her waking nightmare and bind her wound.

Something deep in my gut wants to stay away, but I need to check for messages tonight.

I’ll leave my thoughts about her until then.

I inhale deeply and smell a river nearby. It’s large, and the water rushes violently. It’s cold, but not cold enough for it to freeze. I make note of that and survey the other slaves.

Not all of the humans are blind to the poison. I see half a dozen humans throwing their food on the ground and kicking snow on it, or disappearing to the latrines and coming back with empty bowls. I follow suit. Then I bring the dish back to a large vat of hot water where several teenage slaves with blistered, bright red hands are washing.

I take one look at those hands and grab a rag and soap from a bucket.

They cast strange looks at me, but I refuse to let adolescents wash my plate when it will cause suffering.

One of them passes me a gourd to fill with water. I thank them, and then, after finishing up, I head to the lumber yards. It’s a long walk. The sharp smell of fresh air fills my nose as the sun rises in the sky.

Several other humans walk near me on the beaten path, all quiet. There is a large open space between the tree trunks and, of course, more giants. Six stand near a rack of axes.

I let out a long breath and keep walking, scanning the other men who've joined us. There are around three hundred in total, and it hurts my heart to see some of those young boys follow us out.

Good hell.

It isn’t long until I see Eneko. He sits on the back of a cart, drinking something from a steaming goblet. His hair has been brushed out and pulled atop his head. His clothes are clean, and he is well-protected against the chill.

He laughs at something one of the other giants says. When he tilts his head back to finish off whatever was left in the mug, I see the scarred column of his neck on display. It would be so easy to slit.

Melisa would be free of him and his bed.

I grit my teeth and shove away the thought. It will not be me who ruins our mission.

All of us slaves arrange ourselves into rows. This time, however, we wait for dull tools instead of poisoned mush.

With one last violent tip of Eneko's head, he slams his cup on the top of the rack before approaching us. His hand goes to a coiled whip in his belt.

“We are behind on our quota,” he says after half a dozen paces in rough silence. “The palace asked for five thousand trees this month. High King Rholker is preparing for a massive expansion that will bring honor to the giant kingdom; they need lumber to build. Looking at our numbers, we are halfway into the month, yet have a quarter of that. What holds you all back?”

The air fills with dread. It leaks out of the pores of every man here.

“Well?” Eneko calls. “I let you eat two meals a day. We protect you from the wolves and bears that lurk in the forests. All of you have a roof over your head, do you not?"

No one answers.

He holds out one hand, gesturing to us and then presses his hand to his forehead.

"All that we ask is that you do your fucking jobs. Why so slow?”

Still, no one responds. No one even moves.

Displeased, Eneko pulls out his whip and cracks it on the ground.

“I don’t like using this. You know that.” He places the whip on the ground. “Bring home over a hundred trunks today, and I will do what I can to keep you off the racks. I don’t want to see any of you on the chopping block—but if you won’t work, then I can’t prevent that.”

One quick glance shows that the men around me are resolute.

“I’ve even brought in help.” Eneko raises his hand and points it at me. “I found another slave with giant blood. He should be able to carry an entire log himself, but don’t take advantage. You all know how I feel about fighting.”

More eyes on me. I clench my jaw and give a nod just as my stomach grumbles.

They glare, equal parts angry and weary. Then the attention is taken away, and the butts of spears shove men forward.

“Move, mangy rats, or I’ll peel the skin from your balls,” one of the guards shouts.

The others follow without resistance.

One by one, we approach to take our tools. When I pick up an ax, I look at the dull blade and hold it toward Eneko.

“Foreman,” I say, and Eneko raises an eyebrow. “Do you need me to sharpen this?”

He lets out a laugh. “Why would you need a sharpened ax?”

“To cut trees.”

He shakes his head. “Fucking halfblood, know your place. You’d sooner cut one of us with such a weapon. Now join the others before I regret bringing you into my region.”

I bite my lips and fall into line next to a few slaves. The one directly at my left, two heads shorter than me, glares. His deep brown skin is rough and spotted from the sun, but his black eyes are backlit by flames.

“The Foreman seems to like you,” he says.

I raise my eyebrow. “He seems to like my height.”

The stranger doesn't like that answer. I can feel the displeasure radiate off him.

“You look well-fed. Where did you come from?”

“They call me Ra’Sa. I come from the northwestern yards.”

The man continues to stare rather rudely. “I’ve heard some of the slaves talking about that area. They had even more poisonings than us. Makes no sense that you would have so much meat on your bones.”

Damn. I genuinely don't know what to say to that.

“I am good at scavenging.”

He scoffs. “Likely story. Watch yourself.”

I pause. “Why would I need to do that?”

“We don’t take kindly to halfling bastards.” He pushes away from me, and I walk alone once more.