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

Chapter 20

Chapter 20

RA’SA

I can see the inky dark blue sky above me. There's a poorly patched crack in the crumbling roof, and it reveals the outside world in a way I'd never seen. Usually the open sky is vast and uncomfortable, but this—barely a sliver—intrigues me.

Clouds the color of steel and stone float through the sky, framing the stars. While I lie there, something in my magic stirs. Enduares believed that stars were faraway realms for our goddess to inhabit. Spheres of stone, like the world we live in. Grutabela picked one for her home. She built a throne of stones and began to sing to us across the distance. It was always a comforting thought for me to think of her as bits and pieces manifest in the crystals.

The more I think about it, the more curious I am that we have taken to the underground as much as we have, especially as I realize, looking up at the celestial realm, that I enjoy it.

In small doses.

Strange.

I’d never considered myself so changeable. But perhaps I’ve merely denied myself the space to find out what I really want over what others have wanted for me.

One of the slumbering men on my left stirs with an abrupt snort. I don't recognize him, but the movement causes me to adjust and feel the sweaty, blood-crusted clothes clinging to my body.

I grimace.

My eyes fix on the heavens once again, only to find the shade of blue much lighter. The sun awakens, meaning I must soon work.

Images return—blood-soaked memories—of bodies stacked on top of each other, and the world around us swirling with smoke…

Long ago, we lived in a small village near the old Enduar capital, Iravida. Ruhsavida was a collection of caves in a forest up north. We were in one of the few places that had easy access outside of the mountains.

We'd been home the day the world ended. I'd been helping my father clean the roof from lichen that had started to build up. Mother was downstairs, feeding Tirin, but my sisters weren't home. Sera, Orena, and Anina had gone off to art lessons with one of the painters in the Royal Art Institute.

Our house was covered with their paintings. Bright glowing blues and greens covered every surface. They painted the world beyond the caves, and our family, too. Mother and Father in fantastical clothing. Me, with dancing stones around my head and glowing eyes. Them with swords and ballgowns and books.

When the smoking started, Father recognized the signs. He’d worked with the great battalions tasked with guarding the king’s treasures and understood, so he shoved me off the roof.

He shouted at me and told me to care for my mother. He would get my sisters and join us later.

I didn’t understand what he meant, but my mother was screaming and crying. I took Tirin, and we ran.

Ran until we couldn’t breathe.

Two quiet words are whispered to my thoughts, breaking me from the memory.

Be well.

It's Melisa's voice.

Rushing blood silences the world around me. I sit up and look around. She’s not here, but I hear her thoughts like a mate would hear its other half.

Melisa?

Nothing.

No song accompanies the words.

No marks burn on my neck.

… No more thoughts come.

When I stand up and start to make my way out of the den, I pause at the exit, looking for Melisa again.

Guards are littered around the area outside, but there is no raven-haired woman.

Several guards produce metal pots, and they start beating them with their spears. The awful clanging noise steals sleep from anyone who wasn’t already stirring. I wait for a group to form and follow them out of the sleeping area.

As we all shuffle outside and head toward food, everyone is quiet. The morning is crisp. The air awakens me entirely, making my body feel more like unsettled energy rather than a man who didn't sleep long enough. I stretch out my cramped joints and lumber to the large pots.

When I approach, one of the giant guards turns around. My hair stands on end when his eyes go straight to my face. I'd only caught glimpses of him in the corner of my eye, but I'm sure he’s the one who held me down and whipped me. He gives me a sneering triumphant look as overcooked grains are spooned onto my plate.

Once finished eating, I follow the same process of washing my dish myself before exiting. When I begin the dreary trek up to the trees, Abet and Nicolás find my side. I look over with a pleasant expression as I say good morning, but only Nicolás smiles back.

When I reach the lumber yard with my cutting team, I see Eneko.

A hot, ground-rending anger spikes at the sight of his face.

He stands tall and grim, with at least a dozen giant guards, including my tormenter from last night. Behind him is a cart pulled by oxen.

A head of deep, raven-black hair is visible above the walls of the cart.

Melisa .

My heart races, waiting for her to pivot and see me. Eneko turns to a warrior, retrieving something from a guard while the slaves fall into formation.

A few whispers sound next to me. Most of their words mimic the rustling of trees, almost impossible to perceive, but I make out ‘ woman .’

I clench my jaw. Her voice… it’d been in my mind.

Had I imagined it?

"We have news from the king," Eneko calls out, one hand on his hip, the other clutching a piece of paper. "I warned you all that your lackluster performances yesterday would have consequences. Today, every group is expected to cut down three trees, or your group will be subject to the racks."

The crowd around us is silent. The rack means death.

Clearly shocked, Melisa finally moves. She twists around in the cart, brown eyes wide and red mouth parted as she looks at Eneko.

In the silence, someone says something too low to hear.

Eneko’s eyes snap over to the direction of the noise.

“What was that?” he demands.

Everything is quiet for a moment.

Then, a man yells from the back of the group.

"Kill us for serving you? Soon, you won't have any slaves left, Foreman. What does his Royal Highness think about chopping his own wood and cleaning his own shit?"

Eneko sneers. He lifts his chin, still frowning, and waves his hand lazily toward the slave.

Two guards rush forward. One grabs the man by the arm just as he starts to run. The guard yanks backward mercilessly, and a loud pop fills the air as the man is slammed into the ground. The human roars as he's dragged by the back of his shirt to the front of the group.

Melisa’s hand covers her mouth with fear written all over her face.

The slave tries to stand, but he is kicked back to his knees by the second guard, who holds a short whip—the man who tore my back apart. The human cries out from the force of his second fall, knocking into the rocky, snowy ground. The rest of us watch as it happens, feeling the echoes of the screams through the air and holding our breath as the whip lifts.

The guard’s lips turn up at the sides when his hand cranks back before beating now-bare flesh. The man lets out an agonized growl through his teeth as his body curls forward under the shock of the pain.

Another lash comes down with bone-cracking speed. And then another.

The hunger on the guard's face is ravenous. As if the blood were a thing to be celebrated. I wonder if he looked the same when destroying the skin on my back.

My eyes travel to those around me. I look at the men. Some watch with a sense of indifference and tight lips. Others watch with the rage of men plotting revenge.

The giants treat these men as disposable sods. Through them, they feel their power. They can manipulate their lives with the breeding pens, control them in their homes and daytime hours, and finally, end their lives. The giants have made themselves the gods of the humans.

Such bloody, ruthless gods.

Melisa’s eyes finally meet mine. No tears mar her flawless skin, but the horror is apparent. She never looked like that in Enduvida.

I need to get her back to her new home. One that exists because the stones sang a new future for us all.

Even without Fuegorras, those humans heard their own hope in the stones. They whispered it in back rooms and told the others.Little do they know I stand among their people. And my king sent me to help.

I know the ways of strategy. I have led before.

"Anyone else wish to question my words?" Eneko snaps. “No? Very well. You have your orders. You alone decide if you will die this evening. I suggest you work quickly."

The man lifts himself off of his knees, blood streaming down his back and dripping into the snow, face pale as ever. We all watch as he struggles to get back to his spot in the line. No one helps him, for none wish to risk the pain that might come from it.

I am moved to compassion.

I break away and help him to stand. The humans watch as I pull him up.

"Let him walk by himself!" the guard bellows.

I continue to move, glaring ahead as the injured slave hobbles next to me, heavily leaning on my arm for support. The other slaves shift their spots as I bring him to stand near me.

Eneko watches me with hooded eyes.

"Let him be, halfblood," Eneko says.

I look back up at him. "I am merely ensuring we get all the trees you need. You need every slave."

It breaks my heart to feel the man at my side pull away. He doesn't so much as nod, not that I blame him. I can understand why he might not want me to assist him.

The guards push us forward to get our working tools, and I watch him go.

When I’m at the front of the line, the smell of roses and cinnamon engulfs me.

I reach for my ax, and Eneko stops me.

"Remember that there are no winners in this game. You may help him walk now, but you will not save him from death at the end of the day. Without a fourth, his chopping team will be helpless. You don't want to be grouped in with such people."

I look up at him. "I meant what I said; I want to ensure we cut enough wood."

Eneko continues to study me, and I wonder if he regrets bringing me to his lumber yard yet.

He certainly doesn’t know that I want him dead. Dead for what he has done to the humans and dead for the woman who sits behind him. On his cart. Sharing his bed.

The forbidden woman I should’ve never touched—should’ve never started to care for.

"I heard you cut fast, pair that with the kinship we share in blood, and I find I am hesitant to punish you. But act out like this again, and I will not spare my hand."

I grit my teeth.

He seems fixated on the fact that I have this giant blood. I am not above playing into that.

"Why would I side with the humans when the same blood that runs through my veins also runs through yours?"

He purses his lips. “Good words. Make your goal."

I nod, leaning forward to grab the blunted ax. The air changes as I reach out, almost as if I were reaching for Melisa, not a pitiful weapon.

I would kill every last giant in this field and hold her close while the humans run. Far, fast, free.

But then my hand wraps around the worn handle, and I’m drawn back into the real world, where they give us dull weapons and whip us.

On the trail, I spot one of the leather wraps that climbers use to attach themselves to trees tossed on the ground. With no attention focused on me, I reach down, snatch it up, and hurry in the direction of the others.

"That was foolish," Abet says when I get close enough.

I ignore him, looking back in the direction where the bloody man went.

"Let's get to work," I say.

Nicolás begins to wrap the leather around the trunk and climb. Then, I connect myself to the tree and follow him up.

"What are you doing?" Abet demands. "You are full of foolish ideas today."

I shake my head. "We have three trees to cut. We need to work quickly. Just stay on your side and there will be no problems."

"The tree will move too much with you both cutting!" Abet calls up.

I poke my head around the trunk.

"Hold on tight. Balance and strength first," I say to Nicolás.

He nods, and we continue.

When we reach the top of the trunk, it doesn't take long for him to start chopping. When I feel the vibration of his first cut, I wait for his branch to crack and fall.

The tree sways slightly under the loss of its limb, but I hack at another branch before it has time to recover. With one powerful chop, the branch splinters and falls.

"?Ojo!" ? 1 I call down as it tumbles, selecting the human word they use in warning.

"Hostia puta," ? 2 Nicolás murmurs from the other side of the tree.

I look around at him and grin. "I'm fast."

“You’re something, that’s for sure!” he calls back.

We follow the same pattern as we move around the trunk. Branch after branch hacked away in record time.

When the last branch is done, we climb down.

Abet lets out a bitter laugh and curses under his breath.

"Fine. If you want to risk your life to make sure we don't die tonight, be my guest," he grumbles.

“Thank you,” I start, rolling my eyes.

Turning sideways, I see Eneko standing near a group fifty paces south.

My eyes look for his cart, searching for Melisa, and I find it nearby. There are a few men speaking to her as their climber hacks away at branches.

Turning to my team, I hold up my hand. “I’ll be right back.”

Abet purses his lips. “Off to take a piss?”

“Something like that,” I say over my shoulder as I stride toward them.

As I approach, Melisa looks up, and I see the glittering, polished smile she seems to put on for everyone. It’s nothing like the fear, the desire, the fury I’ve seen painted on her face.

My blood goes hot.

“My my my, what have we here?” she says, conversationally.

The men turn to look at me and sneer.

“Fuck off, halfblood,” one of them says.

I glare at him.

“No.” I look back up at Melisa. “What is happening here?”

“We’re just chatting,” she starts.

“You do realize that you will die tonight if your work is not done,” I say to the other men. “Leave her be.”

One of the men grins. “If it’s my last day, it will have been worth it for a minute between the fine lady’s thighs.”

White hot rage flashes through my veins.

“Get back to work, or I’ll call for the foreman,” I say through gritted teeth.

The men grow hostile. “You would deny us a moment of pleasure on our last day?”

“It’s not your last day yet. Get back to work.”

“Fucking bastard,” one of them hisses. “You probably don’t even know the touch of a woman!”

I frown. “And you’d be right. Now leave.”

This time, they do.

It takes everything in my soul not to turn and look at Melisa, to savor her scent.

“Ra’Sa…” her voice says, gentle and sweet.

I keep walking. No more playing with fire today.

When I approach my team, Abet is still working.

“I’m back,” I say irritatedly.

Abet looks up at me, lips pursed. “Took you long enough. Ready to work?"

I give a noncommittal grunt and step into my position. Emilio starts counting our turns.

"Uno!" ? 3

I give the most rigid chop I can muster, and the angle of the blade lands nicely. The cut is far deeper than Abet’s. His eyes widen, and he looks at me, missing his turn.

“Whoa there, easy on your back,” Abet says.

When it’s my turn again, I slam my ax into the wood. On and on we go, but the time it takes to slice to the tree is much shorter than the day before.

When the wood starts to splinter, Abet yells, and we run from the tree. Those weightless moments before the trunk’s thunderous landing, capable of killing, are exhilarating.

"Let's get started on the next. We can carry when the sun starts to drop through the sky,” I tell my team.

A sheen of sweat coats my body, and I remove most of the layers before I harness myself to the tree and follow Nicolás up.

The second tree comes down faster than the first.

The third drags, but only because the others grow weary. I've always been brawny, but today, the purpose pumping through my veins makes me far stronger.

That is, until I look over and see the other laborers struggling. They are panting and sweating, defeated.

It hurts my soul.

I spot one of the boys in the same team as the man who was whipped. The boy is small, dirty, and frowning, while the man has dried flaking blood all down his back. I approach and find them standing around a single tree fallen across the snowy forest. There’s no way in the world above or below that they can chop a second.

I turn back to my group. "I will return soon to help you carry.”

My footfalls are heavy when I reach the next group, huffing. They look up at me. A few of their gazes drop to the ax hanging in my hand.

"Let me help," I say.

They narrow their eyes.

The young boy is the first to speak. "You want to get killed?"

"I saw him speaking to the foreman. Likely, he wouldn't be killed, but we will be. And they'll still get our lumber."

My skin crawls with anticipation. "Please, I just want to help."

Looks pass between each of them.

Then, at last, a cohesive “fine” passes their lips.

Relief.

I tell the other cutter to get in place and get back to work. The afternoon is long, and my muscles strain until I fear they will tear.

But somehow, pulling on the strength of my magic, I help them cut two different trees.

When we are all taken back to the clearing, I feel lighter. Better.

While I saved my group and another, I see the pile of timber much less full than it needs to be. Many accomplished what was necessary, but many did not.

The same desperation bubbles up in the space between my bones and flesh. As we are sorted between those that pass and those that do not, I bite the inside of my cheek.

Eneko is, surprisingly, absent from this ordeal. He’s gone.

With Melisa.

My agony is compounded with the fact that more than fifty of our three hundred men stand on the other side of the yard, awaiting their death.

I picture their blood staining the ground. I picture Melisa kissing that horrible man.

It shreds my heart, my lungs, my head.

Somehow, something needs to stop. When I start to take a step forward, Abet stands in my way.

"I didn't stop you before, but I will now. You saved seven men today. Let it be enough."

I look at him long and hard while my insides churn in pain.

What is seven in the face of three hundred? What is it compared to ten thousand?

My thoughts never find an answer as the guard calls out, "We will now all go to the racks. Attendance is mandatory."

And thus we go.

It shreds my insides to see the merciless gore. One by one, they are sent to the front and beheaded. It is somber.

With each death that I did not stop, I feel it stain my soul. So much death.

Like a light, I remember that I will speak with Melisa in a few hours. It should be more pain, but I don’t care what she’s done. What she’s learned.

I just want to hold her, as I did the night of the fire.

The emotion is just as natural as breathing. It strikes me as futile to believe it would fix anything… But the comfort in another’s arms certainly would make it easier to withstand another day.