Fatal Alignment Ch. 02

Hi friends! Sorry for the long note, I have a lot to say before I start. After much deliberation, I have decided to carry on with this story. I know many of you are not fans of The Seeker and, consequently, this one, but I want to write it. I feel like I need to, to tackle some of my regrets about some of the evil things Venlen did in the last story. Like I said, if I ever try to re-write The Seeker, I would change some things, but it was my first, and I made some mistakes, so for now I'm sticking by them. I also left some loose ends, and I'd like to tie those up. I hate it when stories end without wrapping everything up.

I also have gotten a lot of feedback about how I should abandon this and focus on Poison Ivy, however, it just doesn't work like that. I agree, that story is most definitely my favorite, and as such, it takes A LOT of time and effort to write. Not that this one doesn't, but when I've got a plot in my head, I want to write it down, and I refuse to force myself to write parts that don't come easy. So sometimes, I want to write this, and sometimes, I want to write Poison Ivy.

In short... For those of you who aren't fans... Suck it up, buttercup, and find another story. :) Even though I love you all, and continue to read all your feedback, even the mean or negative. I also had a comment about the use of religious terms in the last chapter. You're absolutely right, and I'm going to go back and change that. Thanks for pointing it out. Nobody has said anything yet, but you might notice that all three of my female characters are virgins. Yeah, yeah. I know. It's getting old. I'd like to think that all three are very different characters, besides having that (and their foul language) in common. All I can do is tell you, change is coming in the next one.

For those of you who did enjoy the last chapter, I should warn you that this one is going to move slow, and it's probably going to be a few chapters of not-so-smutty plot. So you can probably skip this one if that's what you're looking for. Otherwise, I hope you enjoy!

If this chapter had a soundtrack, it would be:

Beautiful Girl by Junge Junge, Kyle Pearce, Beautiful Girl -EP

In My Dreams, by Tonight Alive, Underworld

Innocent by Fuel, The Best of Fuel

The Madness by Art of Anarchy, The Madness

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"Not like that. Like this." Amlen leans down and adjusts her grip on the hilt of the short sword she's spent all afternoon practicing with. He straightens, towering over her, and nods for her to try again. She faces the makeshift dummy they had mounted to a wooden pole in the back of the garden. Mimicking the moves Amlen had just demonstrated, she lands an awkward blow across the hay sack dummy's leg. Adrika growls in frustration. "What am I doing wrong?" she huffs, dropping the sword to her side and pushing stray strands of hair away from her sweaty forehead.

"You're thinking too hard," Amlen tells her, placing a patient hand on her shoulder. "You don't become an expert overnight, little warrior. This will take practice. Look." He draws his own short sword from its place at his side, although his weapon is about as tall as Adrika. With the deadly speed and strength she knows makes her uncle Amlen one of the scariest men to ever walk this planet, he brings his arm up and then back down, slicing the dummy clean in half. The pieces fly from the wooden pole and lay lifeless at their feet. Amlen looks down and frowns at the felled burlap foe.

Adrika giggles.

Amlen grunts unhappily and turns his gaze back to her. "Your weapon is an extension of yourself, Ri. Imagine stretching your fingers all the way through the steel of the sword. Intention is just as important as technique. When you fight, you fight to kill. Never leave an enemy alive. There is no place for mercy in war, and you can be sure your enemy will not give you the same courtesy."

Adrika frowns and looks at the ground. "What if I don't want to kill?" Without warning, an image that has been haunting her for weeks flashes through her head. Her father's hands, covered with blood, clutching the silver leaf pendant at his throat. "What if I never want to kill, no matter what?"

Amlen hooks a finger under her chin and brings her face up to his. "Things won't always be this way for you, Adrika. You are too special to live an easy life. A day will come when you will have to choose between dying and killing. And when that day comes, you will remember what I tell you now, yes? Your heart is pure, but it is also that of a fighter. You can be kind and ruthless at the same time. But you must never, ever, confuse compassion for weakness." His eyebrows draw down in a thoughtful grimace. "You are so much like your mother. You both are many, many things." He smiles sadly, and it is an emotion she has never seen on his face before. "But weak has never been one of them."

He releases her chin and steps away, the sad look from just a moment ago disappearing behind his usual intimidating scowl. "Now, let's go build another enemy for you, little warrior."

Adrika's eyes snapped open, the memory-dream fresh in her mind. She could almost hear Amlen's deep, baritone voice reminding her to be strong and patient. Look for weaknesses. Wait for the right time to strike.

She sat up, groaning slightly at the pain in her side and scowling down at the thin, uncomfortable bedroll that was undoubtably the cause of her discomfort. The kind of chill that can only belong to an autumn dawn hung sharply in the air around the clearing. Looking at her surroundings, she watched the last of the dying embers release a gasping breath of smoke to trail up into the dusky, grey sky. Two figures were laid out nearby, much closer to the warmth than she had been. She climbed to her feet, re-thinking her decision to stay so tucked into the shadows, the stiffness of her joints admonishing her for sleeping so far away from the flames.

Stepping lightly, she crept closer to where the two men slept, careful not to make a sound. She scowled down at Blue, remembering the inexplicable burst of hate she'd felt from him the previous night when he had almost pulled her hair out of her scalp. Jerk. Moving past him, she stood over Killian's sleeping form, the steady rise and fall of his chest reminding her of the waves that crashed upon the Eastern shore. Her father had taken her there once, to a small sea-side fishing village, so she would know what the ocean smelled like.

Her eyes danced over the unconscious giant, taking in some of the features she had missed at first. His light hair was streaked with splashes of a deep golden color, like the sun just before dusk. At rest, without the glower or glares he normally leveled at her, he looked... Well, he looked peaceful. The silvery skin of the raised scar that ran the length of his cheekbone stood out in stark contrast with his olive complexion. His features were meant for a happier face, his full, sensuous lips made for smiling instead of scowling. She wondered at what kind of a life had turned him into the man who had stolen her Green and had nearly drowned her. Who kept friends like Bastard Blue over there.

A breeze swept through the small clearing, and she hugged her arms to herself, shivering. Her eyes trailed down Killian's body, noting how the muscles of his broad chest strained against his tight black tunic whenever he breathed in. An inky black tendril curled up in a strange pattern from below the shirt's low neckline, staining his skin, and she wondered what the rest of the strange marking looked like, and what it was for. Heat rose to her cheeks when she looked further down at his leather riding pants, remembering the feel of something long and hard pressed up against her when he had almost kissed her last night. And what the hell was that all about? What was he --

Her thoughts cut off as she caught sight of the little sheath laying on the ground at his side, the hilt of her mother's dagger unmistakable in the soft morning light. She smirked, remembering Amlen's words. He was a fool for keeping it. It was the one weapon she was the most familiar with, the most skilled with. She stepped closer, watching his face for signs that he was awake. She crouched down silently by his side and reached for the dagger.

Suddenly, his hand shot out and grabbed her, yanking her down onto him. In a flash, she had the blade pressed to his throat. She brought her knee down into his chest, her other foot on the ground beside the arm that gripped her wrist, just above the bracelet. Her breath stilled as she glared down at him, the easy, relaxed look on his face doing nothing to slow the pounding pulse in her ears.

Silently, Killian tapped a finger against the silver band, a small smile lifting the corners of his mouth, the threat clear. For a long moment, they just looked at each other, Adrika now unsure about her course of action. She hadn't planned on killing him, not yet anyway. Amlen's words echoed loudly in her head. When you fight, you fight to kill. Never leave an enemy alive. Killian was her enemy, and she knew his plans for her were malicious and cruel. The decision to follow through with the threat written on her blade should have been an easy one. And yet, a hesitation that had nothing to do with his unspoken warning and unsettling calm stilled her hand and left them both in limbo.

She heard a rustling sound behind her, and without turning her gaze away, she knew that Blue was awake. "Stand down, Eoin," Killian warned, his eyes never leaving hers. His voice was oddly soft, as if she was a wild animal he was trying not to spook. The noise behind her continued. Blue was ignoring the order, and any second now, she would lose her chance. Her blade pressed harder against his neck, her chest heaving with the adrenaline coursing through her veins.

"I said stand. The fuck. Down." His tone was no longer soft but low and threatening. Her eyes darted to the side, trying to see where Blue... Eoin... was. Killian's grip on her wrist tightened. "Look at me," he said, his voice back to the gentle, don't-spook-the-wild-animal tone. She looked back down at him, wanting to wipe away the sheen of sweat coating her brow.

"You can't do it, can you, little monster?" he said, his voice just above a whisper. She snarled and dug her knee harder into his chest, the press of the blade breaking skin. "Shut up," she hissed.

His hand shot out and grabbed her wrist above where she gripped the hilt. "Do it then." He pressed the dagger harder into his own skin, his hold on her wrist bruising. "DO IT!" he roared, leaning into her. Her balance faltered, and if it wasn't for him holding her arms steady, she would have been thrown off. Her vision blurred as she watched blood well up around the little blade, her hand shaking uncontrollably. He was holding all the pressure to his own neck now.

This was all wrong. She was just going to grab the dagger and go, run away while they lay sleeping by the fire. He could have killed her ten times over by now, but he hadn't. Whatever he was doing with her, he didn't want her dead. And she wasn't sure she could kill someone, not when she wasn't fighting for her life. Not in cold blood.

Not like this.

"Stop," she whispered, her fingers going limp, dropping their hold on the blade. Something dangerous flashed through his eyes, and he flipped his body over onto hers, pinning her to the ground beneath him. Her stomach clenched when she felt his hard erection press into her thigh. He pulled her arms above her head and transferred her wrists to one hand, reaching down with the other to brush the wild tangle of hair from her face and tuck it behind her ear. His fingers trailed along her jaw, pausing to brush against her lips. Her breath caught as he leaned in closer and rocked his hips into her. Her eyes dropped to his mouth, both of them breathless and still.

What the fuck was happening?

"Stop," she whispered again, not even entirely sure if that was what she really wanted. He blinked and moved his head away, shaking it slightly like he was just realizing where he was. He sat up, dragging her with him, pausing to collect the forgotten blade at her side. "You should have taken the chance, Princess," he snarled, pulling her to her feet.

"It's the last one you'll ever get."

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Leaving the dagger for her had been a fucking mistake.

First of all, it put her in unnecessary danger. Eoin had been about ready to pounce on her when he woke up and saw what was happening, and he had no doubt about what would have happened to her if Eoin hadn't finally listened to him and stopped. By the end of this, she would be beyond saving anyway. But that wasn't how he wanted it to happen. There was a plan in place, and Eoin should have known better.

Second of all, it had fucked with his head. He clenched his jaw, thinking about how close he'd come to losing control. He'd wanted her to realize how helpless she was, how trying to fight him was an endeavor she would regret. He'd wanted to test her limits. Instead, he'd tested his own. The way she'd been looking down at him... Her wide, dark eyes full of fear and uncertainty while her breath came in shuddering little gasps, like she was freezing. The way her hands shook while she held that fucking kitchen knife of a blade to his neck. Fuck. And despite all that, she'd refused to back down until he'd taken her to the very edge.

It had driven him crazy, but it wasn't until she was pinned under him, when something else stared back at him from behind her midnight eyes, that he'd truly lost his mind. She'd wanted him. Despite the fear, or maybe because of it, she'd been aroused, and he knew if he had dipped his hand between her thighs, she would have been wet.

He could have ignored her half-hearted plea to stop. He could have taken her, and maybe it was a mistake not to. Maybe he'd be able to think straight once he'd fucked her out of his system.

"We should go," Eoin said, his voice bringing him out of his thoughts. "Venlen will have his dogs out hunting for us by now, and the cloaking spell won't work for much longer." He spat on the ground in front of him, a sneer of disgust lifting a corner of his lips. "I didn't appreciate that little stunt you pulled back there, Kill. I don't know where the fuck your head is at, and it's making me nervous."

"Watch it," Killian growled. He was well aware of the fact that the little monster was burrowing herself under his skin. He didn't need a fucking lecture from his Second. Eoin just shook his head and scoffed, concentrating on securing their packs onto the Mortolf's back.

"Can we cut a portal through the Redlands, or do we need to go through them?"

Eoin considered this for a moment. "A portal would be easier. We'd have to stop somewhere for provisions if we tried to go through. But it'd be risky. It would drain both of us, and probably her too," he said, gesturing over his shoulder to where Adrika rolled up her bedroll, casting wary looks their way. "He would know when the portal opened and where, and we'd still have another few days of riding on the other side of it."

Killian grunted. "We can't stop in a village. It would draw too much attention."

"Not necessarily." Eoin yanked hard on the leather strap, their gear now tied down and ready to go. "If you can keep the girl under control, we could probably slip in and out with different faces." He shrugged, turning to face Killian. "Your call."

Killian looked past his Second to where Adrika now sat quietly with her back to the same pine he had pushed her up against the previous night. Her attention was fixed on the Miridyan bracelet as she fidgeted with her hands in her lap. Her billowy shirt and baggy pants were filthy and torn from her little stunt in the lake. Her hair was a wild mess of tangles and curls, the braid she had tried to weave it all into this morning doing very little to tame it down. Her comfort on the journey back to Karmora hadn't exactly been on his list of priorities, but she could certainly use a bath and a change of clothes. Maybe a hairbrush. And what kind of food did she like? She seemed to enjoy the stew Eoin had cooked last night, but maybe she'd like some fruit or bread to eat when they had to ride through the night.

He ran a frustrated hand through his hair, disgusted with himself for entertaining thoughts of making this trip more enjoyable for her. What the fuck did he care what kind of food she liked, or if her hair turned into a fucking rat's nest and fell off? It shouldn't matter.

But it does, a coy voice whispered. He shook it away, reminding himself of what Venlen had done, how their bodies were marked and disfigured by the time he'd found them.

"Get up, Princess," he barked, willing the familiar anger back into his veins. "We're leaving."

Adrika got to her feet and walked over, and even the way she moved slayed him. "Why do you call me that?" she asked, her head tilted up, so her midnight eyes could search his face.

"Did I capture the wrong girl?" he taunted. "Did I mistake a village whore for King Venlen's daughter?" He spat out the name and title of his greatest enemy like a morsel of rotting fruit.

She scrunched her face up, little lines creasing her forehead as she frowned. She looked confused and angry. "King Venlen?" she scoffed. "It's an outdated title. Commander Amlen and the Council of Leaders are in charge now, they have been since I was a little girl. My father is a Defender and a trusted advisor. He rejected that title long ago. And I am no more a princess than my mother a queen. I've never even been to the castle, or the city!"

Killian snarled down at her. "Stop playing coy, little monster. Don't act like you didn't just threaten me yesterday with your beloved, powerful daddy. You know who I am," he mimicked her high voice. "You know who my father is. He will come for me."

"My father is a Defender!" she said, her voice rising in indignation. "He protects the villages from people like you, and he will come for me, just as he would come for any other Prevarian the Mad King Jax sent his dog of a son after! He's not the King, and I'm not a fucking Princess, so stop calling me that!"

He'd had enough. Grabbing her shoulders, he walked her backwards until she was pushed against the Mortolf's side. She winced as he pressed her into its spindly fur. "You're right. I do know who you are, Seeker. Your loyalty to your piece of shit sire is admirable, considering the blood on his hands." She flinched at that, but he continued, shaking her once, his grip on her upper arms bruising. "Tell me, Seeker. Do you dream about the memories you see while you traipse around in his head? Do you see their faces at night? Their blood? Their pain?"

Her eyes widened as he spoke, her guilt apparent in her stricken expression.

"Spare me the act, Princess," he snarled. "You and your father deserve everything you have coming to you and more." He shoved himself away from her and stalked off, past Eoin, past the fucking pine, his rage palpable and refreshing. It cleared his head of everything else. How could he have forgotten what she was, what evil acts she dutifully ignored so long as Venlen provided her comfort and an easy, privileged life? So she'd proven herself to be more complex, more enigmatic than he had expected. It didn't change the fact that she was a spoiled brat and the rotten fucking apple of her father's eye.