Fatal Alignment Ch. 02

And for that, she would pay.

...................................

Killian hadn't spoken a word to her in two days.

After his perplexing tirade back in the clearing that morning, she'd stood, stunned and overwhelmed, as the horror of his words sunk in. She remembered her vision, the image of her father's hands covered in blood, and how unsettled she had been. How terrified of what it might mean. She hadn't thought of it in years, had, in fact, pushed it far from her mind. Instead of looking deeper, she'd struggled to forget it.

She'd been taught to respect the private thoughts of those around her. Aside from the random thoughts and memories that invaded her mind from time to time, she only practiced that part of her abilities on her mother, and only with her permission. She knew her father was a dangerous man, that people were afraid of him. She knew that part of his job as a Defender was to kill those who dared threaten the safety and peace of Prevarian villages. But her father was a good man.

So why didn't she doubt the truth of Killian's words? Why hadn't she jumped to his defense?

When he came back, he had collected himself and was once again calm but glower-y. He'd grabbed her waist without saying a word to her and hoisted her up onto the saddle of the creature, the Mortolf, and had climbed on behind her.

She'd tried twice to make a run for it, both times in the middle of the night when she was sure the two men had been sleeping. Both times, she'd only gotten just beyond the camp when her limbs had simply failed her, and she'd slumped to the ground, paralyzed, until Eoin had come to drag her back to her bedroll. Literally, dragged. By her limp arms. She guessed she should count herself lucky that that was all he'd done. She saw the way he watched her, how his ice blue eyes were overflowing with hate and anger.

She refused to stop trying to run. She kept thinking back to Killian's last words to her before he'd stormed off. You deserve everything that's coming to you and more. What exactly did they have planned for her? She remembered the long, ugly scars she had spotted that had covered her mother's back. Her sad smiles when she asked the wrong questions or said the wrong thing. For all her lessons about forgiveness and balance, her mother hadn't wanted her to fear death. Because her mother knew there were worse things than dying.

Adrika suspected that, if she didn't find a way to escape, she was going to find out what some of those things were. And soon.

When the time came, would the bracelet protect them? Would it be enough?

They kept riding after darkness had fallen, which was unusual. When Adrika saw the lights of a village up in the distance, her heart leapt. People! She shifted excitedly in her seat. Maybe someone would see them on the trail. Maybe she could call out to them before Killian silenced her. She could tell them who she was, tell them she'd been kidnapped. They would go to her father. He would know where she had been, and maybe he would find her before it was too late.

Killian's arm snaked around her waist, stilling her jumpy movements. Except for helping her on and off the Mortolf and tethering her to the saddle, it was the first time he had touched her since his outburst. He pulled her back until she hit his chest, his breath hot on her neck as he leaned in to speak threateningly into her ear.

"We're stopping to get supplies before we cross the Redlands. You will not be recognized. You will not run, or speak, or act out in any way. If you do, innocent people will die. Do you want that?"

Adrika swallowed hard and shook her head. Did he even realize what a hypocrite he was? Punishing her because her father had done the same thing he had just threatened to do?

"Good girl. Now behave, or I will drag you back out here and leave you tied to a tree instead of allowing you to sleep in a bed tonight."

Asshole.

"What was that, Princess? Say it a little louder."

Oops. Had she said that aloud? "Nothing," she mumbled. His arm around her tightened, and she felt his chest shake with silent laughter.

Tormenting her seemed to put him in a better mood. They had left the two Mortolfs just outside of the village, and she watched them stalk away into the night, wondering if they would shed blood tonight. Keeping an arm slung over her shoulder, tucking her tight against his side, Killian played the part of the doting husband to her docile, meek wife, mocking her with double entendres as they perused the night market, purchasing supplies.

Yes, she is lovely, isn't she? I captured her heart back in Mulvane, and here we are.

How did we meet? Her father and I go way back.

I'm a lucky man. She's stuck with me until kingdom come.

Each ridiculous little comment made her wince, meant to drive home the point that she was completely under his thumb. That even here, in the middle of a crowded market, she couldn't escape him and whatever terrible fate awaited.

After they picked up a few essential supplies, some dried meat and extra rope and new bedrolls, he'd let her pick out some fruit and cheeses, even some bread. He'd selected some soaps and hair oils, sniffing each of them until he apparently found one he wanted her to smell like. She took the bag when he handed it off to her. Lavender. And he'd bought a hairbrush and some leather ties without her noticing.

He ushered her into a shop filled with clothes, shoes and hats, Blue opting to stay outside and watch for trouble. He chose some warmer clothes for her, riding leathers, and a sturdy pair of shoes, surprising her when he gave the shopkeeper her measurements accurately. She promised she would have them delivered to the inn before morning for some extra coin.

At first, the lack of reaction she received from her torn and dirty clothes, disheveled hair, and dirt covered skin surprised her. Similarly, no one noticed that the two men who dragged her from booth to booth were armed to the teeth and looked menacing and dangerous. Then Killian's words came back to her. No one will recognize you. They had to be using the Green somehow, altering how people saw them. She wondered what the villagers were seeing, and how Killian was pulling it off. Or was it Blue?

By the time they checked into a room at the inn, she was exhausted and weary of Killian's derisive antics. She looked around the modest space with tired eyes, noticing the clawfoot tub that was already filled with steaming water. The sight made her want to cry. Given the way he had treated her tonight, would he even let her bathe?

He answered that question when the door closed behind them and he tossed her a long-sleeve white tunic and the bag of items he had purchased. "Go wash," he told her. "You smell like a wet dog." Blue chuckled at that, and she cursed them both under her breath as she walked into the bathroom and shut the door.

She slipped into the warm water, moaning at how it caressed her skin and soothed her aching muscles. She drew her knees up and dipped her head beneath the surface, wishing she could stay there, warm and cocooned against sound and reality.

Her clothes were piled in a smelly heap when she stepped out of the tub, smelling like lavender and clean of several days-worth of dirt and dust. She brushed her long black hair, weaving the leather ties into a loose braid, and pulled on the tunic he had thrown her. It came down to her knees and she had to fold the arms over several times before her hands were free, but at least she was covered, and clean.

She was actually feeling good, until she realized that she'd have to go back out into that room with the grumpy men who carried some personal vendetta against her. Or her father. Which she was apparently responsible for. Her hand frozen on the knob, she pressed her forehead to the door and closed her eyes, pretending for just a few seconds that she was someone else, somewhere else. Anywhere else. That Seeker blood didn't flow through her veins. That she didn't have to carry the burden of knowing what might lie ahead.

As if sensing her thoughts, Killian chose that moment to pound on the door, making her yelp and jump back. "Time's up, Princess." She growled. She preferred it when he called her little monster, although she could do without the little part. She might be smaller than most, her mother's Seeker blood denying her the height of the Fae, but 'little' implied helpless and weak, of which she was neither. She'd still rather be a monster than a princess.

Nobody fucks with monsters.

....................................

She was hiding in there.

He knew she wasn't trying to escape out the window, and not just because they were three stories up. Any other night, and he was sure the height wouldn't deter her from trying. But he'd watched her drag herself into the washroom, her shoulders slumped and her head hanging, hating himself a little for it. She was dejected and exhausted. He'd been a complete asshole to her tonight, telling himself he was making up for it by buying her things she would need during the weeks of travel ahead instead of taking her through the Redlands with nothing but the clothes on her back and whatever food he decided to feed her.

He was still desperately trying to hold onto his anger. This whole thing would have been so much easier if he could just hate her like he had before he'd taken her. Before he'd known her. But with every little thing he did to cause her pain, he'd watched her shrink into herself more and more, and it pissed him off that he found no satisfaction in it.

He was almost relieved when she'd tried to run away the past few nights. She was still fighting. It had been a hard day, but she wouldn't break so easily. She was tough, his little monster. Tougher even than she gave herself credit for.

Deciding she'd been left alone for long enough, he pounded on the washroom door. "Time's up, Princess." He heard her yelp and fall back and couldn't suppress a little chuckle. He moved back to one of the two beds in the room where they had laid out their new supplies and were working on packing them all away. They would leave at dawn, but she would get a few hours of sleep in a comfortable bed, at least.

It took a moment for him to realize that Eoin had stopped working and was staring a little slack jawed at something behind him. He turned, and almost dropped the dried meat he had been stuffing into one of the saddle bags.

Fuck me.

Adrika stood in the bathroom doorway, looking like some kind of sacrificial virgin. His tunic was comically too big for her tiny frame, but the fabric was thin, and he could see all her curves and peaks from the light framing her through the open door. Her long, jet black hair hung in a loose braid over her shoulder, and all the dirt and filth was gone from her face.

He'd forgotten how fucking beautiful she was. She'd been beautiful before, wild hair and smudged face and all, but like this, all clean and soft and innocent, she was stunning. She looked nervously between the two beds as she fidgeted and wrung her hands. Finally, she looked up, and they locked eyes.

Fuck. Me.

He cleared his throat and looked away, turning to drop the pack back on the bed. Eoin was gawking, and he fought the urge to slam his friend up against a wall and gouge his eyes out for looking at her like that. "Eoin," he growled, drawing the other man's attention away. "Finish the packs." He spun back around to face the little monster. "You." He pointed to her, then to the empty bed. "Go to sleep."

He waited until she had climbed up on the mattress, burrowing herself deep under the covers, before stalking into the washroom and slamming the door.

He was so fucking fucked.

...............................

The door to the washroom slammed shut, and she could hear him stomp around before the sounds of a splash told her he was bathing.

She was obviously delirious from exhaustion and stress. For a second there, when she had stepped into the room, and they had locked eyes, she'd thought...

But it didn't matter, because whatever it was she thought she had seen, or the little electrical current she thought she had felt between them, she'd been mistaken. And even if she hadn't been, it didn't change anything. She was still his captive. He was still a huge jerk, both literally and metaphorically. And they were still enemies.

"I know you're still awake."

Adrika jumped, Blue's voice close to her ear startling her out of her little burrow. She looked over her shoulder to see his tall figure hovering over her, an arm braced on the headboard as he leaned over the bed. Feeling vulnerable where she was, she threw the covers off and sat up, folding her legs beneath her. "Can I do something for you, Eoin?" she asked sweetly. His gaze drifted down to where the tunic hung low across her chest, and she folded her arms to cover herself.

He smirked. "I wonder. Did your mom ever tell you the story of how she met your dad?" Adrika frowned, not answering. In fact, her mother hadn't ever told her that story, and it was something she had asked about several times. Her father loved her mother like crazy, that much was apparent. But sometimes, her mother would look at him strangely. Almost like she was afraid or upset. It was subtle, and it didn't happen very often, but she had always wondered about the reasons behind those looks.

"No," Blue smiled maliciously. "I didn't think so. Would you like to hear it?"

She pressed her lips together. She did very much want to hear it, but not from him.

"You know," he continued, his voice low and quiet. "You and she have a lot in common. Take your current predicament." He sat down on the edge of the bed, and she scooted further away. She didn't like the way he was looking at her right now, not that he ever looked at her very pleasantly. But now, he looked like he was enjoying himself. Like he was excited about what he was telling her. He held up his hands, palms facing her. "Easy, now. We're just talking, right?"

Yeah, right. Just talking. She pulled her knees up to her chest, careful to keep herself covered.

"As I was saying. Did you know your mother was in almost the same exact situation you're in right now, at your exact age? No? Well, she was. Of course, there are some important differences. For example, we're not planning on forcing a bond on you. Although, I wouldn't rule it out just yet. Who knows what could happen after we get you back?"

She cocked her head to the side, her curiosity getting the better of her. A bond?

He was silent for a minute, looking at her with a disturbing intensity, searching her face like he was looking for something. Then he laughed quietly, and the sound filled her with dread. "You don't know," he whispered. "The only Seeker virgin left in existence doesn't know what kind of danger she's in." He tsked. "You should have fucked your farm boy when you had the chance, Princess."

She glared at him and scooted back some more, wanting to be as far away from him as possible.

"Should I keep going? I think I was telling you how your father raped your mother, all so he could have access to her special Seeker powers. That is, after he forced her out of hiding by killing off her Fae friends. One, by, one."

She stopped breathing. He couldn't have just said what she thought he'd said. He was lying. He had to be lying. He was just trying to mess with her head.

But you've seen it. You saw them, by the fire. Pressed up against the tree. The memory that wasn't your own.

She shook her head, silencing that insidious voice. Eoin put his knee on the bed and started crawling towards her. She scooted back again, further out of his reach, but he kept talking, his words dragging her limbs down like an anchor until it hurt to move.

"Don't believe me? I'd tell you to look in my head, but we took care of that, didn't we? See, that was where your father went wrong. He should have put a leash on her from the very start. He could have done it. But he was cocky. Thought he could handle the mind-fucks if she tried. And he could. But she had the ability to fight back. I wonder, Princess. If your father had just cut her off from her powers right away, do you think she would have opened her legs for him willingly? I think so. I mean, fuck, look at you. We had you for two days, and you were ready to let Kill fuck you, weren't you?"

Her back hit the wall. There was nowhere else to go. Tears streamed down her face as she shook her head, denying everything. Denying it all. He reached her and crowded her against the wall, caging her in with an arm on either side of her head.

"But Laiyla was strong, wasn't she? She could have survived all that. I don't think she truly broke until your father handed her off to his brother when he tired of her. Now that, that's what really did it. All those pretty scars on her back. All from Venlen's big brother."

A strangled sound escaped her. "Stop," she whispered. "Please, stop."

"Stop what, Princess?" He leaned closer, and she turned her head away. His hand clamped around her jaw and forced it back. "Stop. What?"

"Eoin."

There was a death threat in the way Killian said his name. Eoin pushed off the wall, giving her one last smirk before leaving her on the bed alone. She was shaking violently. Killian's eyes followed him until he came to stop face to face with the bigger man. His fist shot out, and Eoin staggered back, clutching his nose as blood coated his lower face.

"FUCK! Fuck you, Kill! How long have we waited for this? How long has Eva been rotting in a fucking grave, while this bitch walks around and --"

Killian's hand wrapped around Eoin's throat. He spun Eoin around and slammed his body against the wall. Adrika jumped at the crack of his skull. Frozen, she watched as Killian's hand constricted, as Eoin's eyes bulged and lips turned blue. Killian leaned in, so close that his nose almost touched his friend's.

"I should kill you." His voice was deadly calm, and she shook harder, her teeth chattering together. They stood like that, in limbo, for an impossibly long moment.

"Killian." Somehow, she managed to keep the tremor from her voice. Killian's head twitched toward her almost imperceptibly. What was she doing? She should want to see Eoin die. All the same, she let out a shaky breath when she saw his grip loosen, when she heard Blue inhale sharply.

"Get out." He stepped to the side, and Eoin rushed by, casting an accusing glare her way as he ran out the door. Killian's shoulders slumped, and he slowly turned around to face her, his lavender eyes revealing nothing of what was going on inside his head.

"It's true, isn't it? It's --" She swallowed hard, forcing back a sob. "It's all true?" She didn't know if it was a question, but when he said nothing, just stood there, staring at her, she closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the wall.

"I'm tired of your threats. Whatever you're going to do... Just do it."

And then she came apart.

..............................................

He clenched and unclenched his fists, watching her body shake with long, racking sobs. He should have just fucking killed him. It would have been easier than standing here, seeing his little monster crushed and broken.

How is this any worse than what you'll do to her?

He shivered, not wanting to answer that question right now. He wanted to gather her up into his arms and comfort her. He wanted to wipe away her tears and kiss her swollen lips. He wanted to tell her everything would be okay, even though he could guaran-fucking-tee things would never be okay for her again. She'd been doomed from the start. Her own father had sealed her fate.