Chapter Twenty-Seven

Sitting with his back against a tree, Daroth was curious as to what would happen if he opened his mouth: would sand trickle out? He never realised a person could know such thirst, but he knew better than to ask for water.

Raising his bound hands, he fingered the area around his left eye and winced, wondering if it looked as puffy as it felt. Lowering his hands, he tried to focus his vision on them, but the pain in his left shoulder refused to be ignored. The injury was his reward for yet another escape attempt. And the lack of food and water was to dissuade any further attempts. He could not remember how many days had passed since his initial capture; there were times he did not know if he’d been asleep or unconscious.

Yet again, his wandering thoughts settled on Lamorna. I told her I’d find her and keep her safe, he thought. Though I confess I am now unsure as to how I will manage that.

He’d stopped questioning why she had run away from her home instead of seeking him out. Given the choice of his father or the unknown, he now knew which he’d choose. Just as he knew there would no longer be a place for him at his father’s house. When the soldiers returned him to Elford, first there would be punishment, followed by banishment. No bad thing, I suppose. But I will miss Miri. He hoped his young sister would miss him too.

I’ve never given much thought to how much Lamorna might mean to me, even though we had been... have been betrothed for three years. Strange how it takes her loss to make me realise my true feelings for her. After our last visit, the time I spent with Janina, I thought, I thought maybe... He shook his head, focussing instead on his purpose. I will find her. I will get away and I will find her.

A shadow fell across him; he did not bother looking up. Until liquid began to trickle on him. Squirming to sit up straight, he raised his head, mouth open, only to choke. Falling to one side, he spat, coughing, only then becoming aware of the laughter. It was not water; it was urine.

Daroth lay on his side, eyes shut, drawing his knees up tight against his body, fighting the nausea that threatened to swallow him.

“Enough. Leave the wretch.”

Now he truly wanted to disappear, and curled up tighter. No matter what happened for the rest of his life, Daroth knew he would never forget the owner of that voice – Liddon, the one who had beaten Genna.

He nudged Daroth with his foot. “Sit up.”

He remained still, as if this would make Liddon lose interest.

The nudge turned into a kick. “I said, sit up. You know I loathe having to repeat myself.”

Hating himself for whimpering, Daroth struggled to get himself up, aware of his tormentor’s tapping foot.

“Here. Let me assist you.” Liddon grabbed a handful of his captive’s dark hair and hauled him upright.

Failing to suppress a cry, Daroth kept his eyes shut to hide his tears.

“You are fortunate your father is a close acquaintance of Lord Modris. I am obliged to return you... alive. Though I am sure your father would not object to my teaching you a lesson in obedience.” After a pause, Liddon continued, “Here, drink.”

Opening his eyes, Daroth was rewarded with the exquisite sight of a mug of water. Snatching it from Liddon, he drank, barely hearing the man’s words to do so slowly.

“Have you learnt your lesson?” said Liddon, squatting in front of him.

Daroth had finished drinking and was now running his finger around the inside of the mug.

“If I release you, will you be a good lad and return to your father?”

Daroth’s movements stilled; he stared at the mug.

“My only reason for asking, for hoping you will be sensible is because I am now down to ten soldiers. And that, as we know, is all your doing.”

Daroth fought to keep his expression neutral. Was he going to be told, yet again, why it was Liddon only had ten soldiers when he’d started the search with twelve? He clenched his jaw to stop himself saying that he knew. He knew that he was responsible for the horse stepping in a rabbit hole and breaking its leg; he was responsible for the horse falling on its rider and breaking the man’s leg; he was responsible for the horse having to be killed; he was responsible for another soldier having to take the injured man back to the village. He was to blame for everything.

But instead Liddon said, “The least you can do is make my life simpler by agreeing to my request. Look at me, boy. Will you return?”

Daroth met Liddon’s stare but said nothing. He knew from the way the man pressed his lips together and shook his head that he’d deciphered Daroth’s silent refusal.

“Why do you persist in this? What is this girl to you? From what your father has said, she is no longer your... betrothed.” His tone was laced with scorn. “And yet you keep putting yourself in harm’s way. For her.”

When Daroth remained silent, Liddon prodded his injured shoulder. “Well?”

Flinching, he sucked in his breath. “I... do not... expect you to understand.”

Liddon peered closely at him before deliberately raising his brows and leaning back. “You have bedded her.”

“No!” Daroth balled his hands into fists.

Liddon laughed. “She must be good–”

“Shut up! You have no right–”

He grabbed Daroth’s face, fingers and thumb pushing into the skin on either side of his mouth, muzzling him. “But I do, foolish boy. I have the right to do and say as I please, especially when it involves a parentless girl with no one to defend her.” Releasing him, Liddon straightened and turned away, dusting down his trousers.

His body trembling, Daroth shoved himself to his feet and swung at Liddon.

The soldier stumbled forward as his men cried a warning.

“She’s not alone.” Daroth continued to try and hit Liddon. “You don’t have the right, she’s not al–”

Liddon’s punch silenced his shouts.

Moaning, the taste of blood in his mouth, Daroth lay on his back, squinting at the clouds pinned to the sky.

Liddon’s booted foot connected with his leg.

He cried out, as he struggled onto his side, his body already curling, trying to protect itself from the inevitable.

“You truly are an idiot,” said Liddon. “You are useless to her. When we find her – make no mistake, boy, we will find her – then we’ll have a taste ourselves. She might yet inspire such... selfless devotion in me.” He rocked back on his heels and laughed; his men joined in. “And your special reward, wretch? You get to watch.” More laughter followed his words.

A few more kicks landed on Daroth, and he let his tears fall now without trying to hide. I have failed. Lamorna, I am sorry. He is right, I am useless, I cannot even keep myself safe, I am a fool for believing I could protect you.