Claire stirred as she felt the bed move underneath her.
“Miss Claire, it’s time to get up.”
Her eyes snapped open. Just days before she’d dreamed of hearing his voice beside her when she awoke. Now it struck fear in her. She sat up quickly, her head spinning from the sudden movement. She closed her eyes against the bright light streaming in through the window, still puffy and sore from crying. Her right cheek ached and felt twice its regular size.
Bren sat on the bed with one leg thrown up on top casually. His white shirt was blinding in the light with the sleeves rolled up halfway. He looked rested and refreshed. At least one of them did, although she wished it had been her.
Quickly, she rolled off the bed, drew her dagger, and held it up in front of her.
Bren chuckled and stood up on the other side of the bed. Movement caught her eye by the door. Two guards flanked the doorway and started to draw their weapons. The General stopped them by holding up his hand as he walked around the bed to stand in front of her.
“You’re such a feisty little thing.” He grinned as he held on to one of the finely carved bedposts. His hair was pulled back in its usual loose ponytail and hung over his shoulder.
She glared up at him and pointed the blade at the new man that stood in front of her. He still talked the same, looked the same— but he was different. The warm feeling she’d once gotten from him was gone.
“I think I really could have fallen for you.”
“Quiet!” She tightened her grip on the dagger.
He rushed her suddenly, snatched the blade from her hands and threw it across the bed. He grabbed her left wrist and twisted her around, pinned her hand to her back and pulled up, sending a shock of pain throughout her body.
She gasped sharply, frozen in his grip. He ran a hand through her loose hair and grabbed a handful to yank her head back.
“Miss Claire, I wanted to play nice, but you force me to this.” He dragged her out to the center of the room in front of the fireplace.
The guards stepped forward. Bren released her and shoved her toward them. They took a hold of her arms, one on each side, their grip tight and strong. Their faces looked forward, showing no emotion, not wanting to get too involved.
Bren brushed his shirt smooth and took a deep breath. “Why don’t we start off easy?” He smiled, and her heart fluttered but for a different reason. “Why don’t you tell me who you really are? I know you’re no lady.”
And here she thought she’d done a good job at playing her part. It was time to tell the truth, although she had imagined a different situation in her head.
“My name is Claire Tanith and I come from Stockton, a small town just north of Lendon. One night we were attacked by centaurs and I was able to escape. That’s when the elves found me.” She was proud of her ability to keep her voice even.
“And what exactly do the elves want with you?”
“I don’t know.” That was mostly true.
Bren stepped forward and brushed his fingers along her swollen cheek. “Miss Claire, I don’t really think you’re in the position to withhold information.”
“I don’t have any more information to give, General.” She jerked her face away from his hand.
“You mean to tell me you just agreed to go with a couple of strange elves, without knowing what they want from you?”
“They said they’d help me find my mother. Besides, it’s not like I had much of a choice.” She tried to take a step toward him, but the guard’s hands held her back. “And what about you, General? Why did you agree to come along? What exactly do you plan to do with me?”
“Miss Claire, I’m sure even you suspected that I was sent by His Highness to keep an eye on you and your companions. No one had seen an elf in Lendon in years. That could look suspicious all on its own, don’t you agree?”
Claire remained silent. She knew he wasn’t really asking her or would care what her answer would be.
“At first I just planned to capture you and use you as a hostage. But those elves proved to be more adept at fighting than I thought.”
Her eyes widened. “The thieves?”
“They were just a convenient coincidence.” He stepped forward again, his body nearly brushing hers. “However, I did manage to catch a glimpse of a rather curious…” he paused to eye her right arm, “… thing.”
So he had seen it after all. But then, who were those thieves really working for?
Bren was a good enough actor to have even the elves fooled, it seemed. Although they still had their suspicions, the elves could have never known that he’d been up to all of this, could they? If they did, she’d been kept in the dark once again. Was she really so untrustworthy?
“How does it work, Claire?” His voice went cold again.
“I’m not really sure myself.”
“Do not lie to me!” He gripped her throat suddenly with his hand and brought her face up to meet his.
“I don’t know.” She looked back at him, defiance in her eyes. It was true that she didn’t really know how the thing worked, and even less what it was. “All I know is that it seems to react when I’m in danger.”
“Then how come it didn’t work at the tournament?”
Claire’s stomach fell even further. “You were the one responsible for the little mix-up after all?”
“Well, I figured if it showed up with the thieves, it could work with that man.” His grip tightened on her throat and his voice lowered. “Why didn’t it work, Claire?”
“Maybe because I thought you would come and save me.” Her boldness faltered and her voice grew soft. “Did you ever really care for me, Bren?”
The hard expression receded from his face as he smiled warmly. “Miss Claire, you really are a sweet girl.” He pressed his lips against hers in a harsh manner; a sharp contrast to the sweet kisses he’d given her in the past. “That’s why I hate to do this.”
He released her and marched over to the table underneath the window, grabbed it and dragged it out to the middle of the room. He motioned to the guards with a raised hand to bring her.
Claire’s pulse began to speed up. What was he planning now? Whatever it was, it certainly wasn’t tea time. She never knew a small delicate table could feel so ominous.
The guard on her right grabbed her by the wrist and slammed her hand down on the tabletop, then crossed to the other side to get a better hold. His face remained blank as he looked away.
Panic struck her and she started to struggle but the guard on her left held on strong. Bren had come around behind her to grab another fistful of hair and yanked her head back. He leaned over her, his body pressed up against hers as it pinned her down against the table.
“Miss Claire.” He leaned in close to her ear, his voice dropping to just above a whisper. “You really are too trusting. Surely you had your suspicions about me?”
It was true. She did at first, but didn’t think it could ever lead to something like this. “Why did you bring me here?”
“That’s simple, Claire. I knew your Elvin friends would want to get rid of me after your little show at the tournament. So, I contacted an old ally, made a deal, and here we are.” His hand appeared before her, holding a thin knife; the polished blade gleamed in the light.
Her breath stopped as she watched the blade draw closer to her right hand. She tried to jerk her wrist from the guard’s grip, but he held on tight with both hands, locking her arm in place.
“Miss Claire, I’d watch out for those two if I were you. Especially the one with the silver hair. He seems a little dangerous, don’t you think?” He pressed the blade against her skin lightly.
“And you turned out to be a bag full of sunshine yourself.” Bren tightened his grip in her hair.
“Do you really think those elves’ intentions are in our best interest?” His voice grew in intensity as he pressed his mouth against her ear. “The world is better off without magic, Claire. Humans finally control the land while those path
etic elves hide themselves away and plot for the day they can reclaim their throne.” The blade pierced her skin, drawing a sharp gasp from her throat. “You’re a traitor, Claire. I don’t know what kind of magic you possess, but I can’t have you running around with this… thing.”
He started to drag the blade up her hand slowly and Claire screamed. The pain was sharp and intense, reaching up her arm and spreading through her entire body. The sight of the blade parting her skin churned her stomach. Her breath became ragged as tears streamed down her cheeks. She struggled, thrashing against their hold again to try to escape, but she was pinned and unable to move, left to watch as the blade carved up her arm to leave a trail of blood and agony in its wake.
“Those elves are bound to come for you.” His voice returned to its usual calm. “Let me ask you Claire, do you think they’ll still want you after you’ve been damaged?” The blade crept past her wrist. Air stung at the cut. “Curious, how come it isn’t glowing now? Could it be that you still have feelings for me, Miss Claire?”
She didn’t answer him. Maybe she did still have feelings for him. Even now, it was hard to tell. His charming visage was still fresh in her mind. Foolishly, she kept thinking that this was all some sort of dream. That she would wake from it any moment. That he would snap out of it and return to the Bren she’d first met. But it wasn’t and he wouldn’t. The pain in her heart and on her body was real, and he was the one responsible for it. Outwardly, she hated him, but inside her mind was still a whirl of confusion.
The blade stopped halfway up her forearm, just after the mark. Blood streamed from the fresh wound and dripped down onto the table. Claire’s body was frozen in shock, her whole body filled with fire and hate. She had trusted this man and he’d betrayed her. Bren raised himself off of her. His hand released her hair and her head sunk forward.
The guards released her and she collapsed in a pile on the cold stone floor. She rested her right arm in her lap, the blood seeped onto her pants. She kept her eyes on the floor, not wanting to look at the man that had done such an awful thing.
“I believe my work is done here.” Bren’s voice rang clear and calm through the room.
She heard footsteps and the door opening. Her back to the door, she refused to turn around until after they’d gone. She didn’t want him to see her like this. Defeated and ashamed.
“Miss Claire, please don’t hate me.” His words held an edge of sadness, but she knew that was a lie. “I only did what is necessary. As part of our agreement, you are now in Lord Byron’s possession. He is free to do what he wants with you. He seemed to be interested in that thing on your arm,” he paused, “but I think he’ll understand, as I hope you do.”
His steps faded as he left the room and the door slammed shut behind him, followed by the soft click of the lock.
A fine tremble started throughout her body and soon her shoulders were racked with sobs. Unable to stop it, she let go and gave in. The stinging of the open wound on her arm grew overwhelming, spreading up her arm and through her body. She raised herself to her feet while gripping the table with her left hand. With slow steps, she made her way to the bed and grabbed the long black scarf she’d taken off the night before. She sat on the bed, wincing at every movement, and started to wrap the scarf around her right arm. If only she had the elves healing salve.
With the wrapping complete, she lay back on the bed, curled her knees up to her chest, and cradled her bandaged arm. The scarf would have to do for now, though she wished dearly for something to help dull the throbbing pain. What would happen next? Would the elves come for her? If they did, they’d hardly be happy with her. Maybe Farron was right. Perhaps they weren’t the worst people to get their hands on her. Lord Byron didn’t seem too promising either. She just hoped whatever he had planned for her wasn’t worse than what Bren had done to her. Although, she knew that wasn’t true.