The wonderful sensation of his touch travels up your ribcage, the shocking warmth unfurling up your neck, nearly skimming across your jawbone, sending you internal temperature spinning to the max.

And you have to remind yourself to take a breath. 

You gulp with another wild thought. How will you survive him?

It’s as if you’re under some kind of spell. You’ve never felt anything like this in your entire life.

And then you feel it. An uncomfortable, tight pinch against your chest.

What is that? 

The harsh reality of your situation has slapped you hard in the face. It’s the fork digging into your skin.

With the Commander distracting you like this, you completely forgot all about the damned thing.

Where has all your training gone?

And of course, he can’t know about it. 

Not if you want to escape.

You gulp, still gazing up at him, grasping for something to say to him. 

“Commander, I…need a moment of privacy,” you say, panicked that your voice sounds so low and breathy. Was that really you speaking? 

Oh no. It was like that of a stranger’s voice, but you know it was your own. Maybe he didn’t notice it…

He’s looking down on you curiously, and you can’t put your finger on it. Your instinct is to hide from him. 

If he only knew how he affected you. And that would be bad for so many reasons.

He can never know.

He’d only use it to his advantage. The fiend.

As if your situation wasn’t already horrendous being a prisoner of war. Your survival depends on it. 

And your eventual escape…

He nods, unshackling you. His deep green eyes reflecting that he understands your meaning. He takes the same care not to touch your bare skin, yet again. And that odd little detail is driving you absolutely mad.

You blow a harsh breath through your nose in frustration and push that nonsense off because you need to just get away. 

As you walk toward the edge of the forest, giving yourself space, your heartbeat eases. 

Finally. 

“Don’t wander far,” he calls out. The warning and challenge in his velvety smooth tone is unmistakable. 

And the unspoken words he didn’t even have to say. 

I will find you.  

You are a prisoner. This is a reminder. Mustn’t ever forget. 

You roll your eyes at his low and gruff command. Oh how you wish you could go far. 

Just to spite him. Beautiful devil that he is. 

Even though the sun hasn’t set, as you survey the verdant wood, you wonder why it’s so dark and vast and full of many shadows in there. If he only knew you didn’t want to go into that massive dank forest. Biting your lip, you fret a little as you stand at the edge of the dense tree line. 

There’s much lurking there in the dark. You don’t want to go in. 

You press your forehead against a young tree and shut your eyes tightly. The feel of the rough bark against your skin grounds you in the moment.  

Maybe you can hold it? 

Even if you did run from him, you’d be lost and helpless without a guide and your sense of direction is not the best considering this new terrain. 

Sherinde is an entirely foreign land to you. 

One thing at a time, y/n. You push those thoughts away. 

You can do this.

Sighing, nature finally wins that unbeatable battle. 

As you wander in, you move past a mass of gargantuan trees that offer a shield of privacy. Damp green moss covers the ground and even the air smells fresh and thick with dew. Your parched skin instantly feels the difference as the damp breeze swirls past your cheeks. 

You take care of business fast and wash up in a nearby tiny stream. 

Once you’re done, you dare to peek around a fat tree. The Commander is in the distance as he secures the campsite with efficiency.

When you know it’s safe, you pull the gleaming fork out of your gown and inspect it. 

Your heart lifts with renewed hope as you hold it in your hands. 

Yes, this will have to do. This is your freedom. 

If you can slowly pick at your lock and figure out how to escape then this could work. 

Right?

It will work. It has to work. 

You’ve seen that he sleeps like the dead, so you’ll get a good chance there. Light dreamer…ha!

You snort in disapproval at the lie he told you way back at the fort. 

The corner of your mouth lifts at the distant memory as you pressed his gleaming sword under his chin. The very shock on his fine face when he realized you had the upper hand and bested him.

The thrill of that moment lingers in your mind. 

And you’ll have that feeling of triumph once more. 

Yes, nightfall will be best. It’s a good plan, and you’ll work on picking the lock on your shackles tonight. 

As you walk back into the campsite, you whistle out a comforting, happy tune, a distant memory from home. A pair of iridescent crows are curious and hopping near a knobby tree stump as if they’re watching the Commander work. Their wings are almost a perfect match to the darkness of his silken hair. 

You roll your eyes at your wayward thoughts.

Despite all your misgivings about this entire situation, you still wonder if he’ll reshackle you.

After all, where can you go? You gaze at the trees around you as if they understand your sentiments. 

Maybe he’ll finally loosen up a little and let you roam free among the campground? Let you stretch your muscles?

After all, you’ve been traveling all day long. You’re much further in your journey and it’s not as easy to escape now. Your heart sinks a little at that thought. But you brush it away. Focus on survival. 

Focus on the moment.

You clear your throat as you approach him. You sit against a gnarled, downed tree at your back. Oh, how you long for your combat clothes and wonder how long you’ll last with this silly traveling dress.

“I’ve always thought crows quite mischievous,” you say, smoothing the soft velvet of your gown, trying hard to be casual. 

You turn your back, shutting your eyes tightly with embarrassment. 

Why did you say all that out loud? 

You shrug because you’ll need to talk to someone on this long journey. Even though he is an elf. You suppose he’ll have to do for the time being. 

He glances at the birds, giving you full view of his beautiful profile.

“Is that so?” He’s intrigued, and rises, narrowing the distance between you on those muscled long legs that are even more tempting in his solid black uniform. The way his leathers hug his narrow hips is almost impossible not to notice. 

And his gaze is now trained on you in a way that makes your heart pound violently as he closes in.

You lick your lips, gulping nervously. You pulse skittering to the stars. “Ugh…they seem rebellious, as if they have their own secret agendas and won’t easily comply with what you want.” 

He lifts your arm with gentle pressure, and the electric thrum that pulses through you makes you gasp in response. 

But then you feel the cool weight of the shackle over your wrists again as he restrains you.

Your stomach drops to the dirt as he gracefully moves away. 

Oh. This again.

Sighing heavily, you lean against an old fallen tree, suddenly out of breath, weary and tired. 

His pouty, plush mouth curves slightly at the side, twitching with a private thought as he gathers wood nearby. 

“What?” you ask with a biting tone, annoyed with him shackling you. But you’re all the more intrigued and much too delighted with his facial expression as he disappears behind some trees to find more wood. 

What is he thinking? What is that face?

Did he feel that, too? 

“I feel the same,” he calls out from behind the trees. 

Oh!

Your heart is beating the sweetest rhythm you’ve ever known. 

You’re stunned by the idea and crane your neck to look at him.   

“You do?” you ask, unable to contain your shock and excitement, and there’s a secret thrill vibrating through you like none other you’ve ever felt before. 

You’ve been through battle, vanquished your enemies and had your very life almost extinguished more times than you can even recall, but in this singular moment, you’ve never felt the sweet pulse of life as strongly as you do now.

That tender, beautiful ache of being alive is rushing through your veins now. 

And the very idea that he shares what you’re feeling now, that same longing, is too exquisite to even bear. 

He appears with a mound of dry branches in his hands. “That’s why I prefer ravens to send messages,” he says.

What?

Heat floods your neck and cheeks, and you’re suddenly grateful that you didn’t embarrass yourself with your childish, ridiculous thoughts. 

Foolish, impertinent girl! 

The berating voices of your commanding leaders back home vibrates through you. They said you asked too many questions and just needed to do as you were told. Obey the rule of command. 

And at that time you didn’t understand.

Even so, you still couldn’t help yourself. 

And you were punished for it…in various ways you’d rather not think about now. 

You often didn’t understand why things had to be done in a certain way without question. It always seemed so odd to you.

Of course, none of your leaders resembled anything close to Commander.  

He picks a spot a few feet in front of you. Dropping to his knees gracefully, he begins assembling a small pile of thin twigs beside him along with larger pieces of wood and dead, dry grass.  

You lean against the log, feeling exhausted and lazy, but all the more entranced while watching his ethereal movements. He’s quite the sight to see, but you’d never admit it to him, of course. 

The pointy eared fiend. 

He pulls out a gleaming object that catches the dying light– It’s a shiny, thin blade. He makes a triangular notch in a piece of flat bark that’s secured flat on the ground under his knee. 

But it’s not your blade and just a harsh reminder of what you’ve lost.

There’s nothing else to do except stare at your bound wrists and think about your own weapon that’s long gone. Your situation is tenuous, and you’d rather not linger on your dire circumstances. 

So, you watch him work, which gives you an easy excuse to study him more closely. 

Know your enemy. 

It’s as if you’ve been infected by a disease, by him. And you’re unable to look away.

He grabs a long, thin stick and the piece of flat, withered bark. He places the stick over the piece of notched bark inside a groove he made. His palmed hands are pressed together, long, sensual fingers on display. For a brief moment, you wonder what they’d feel like skimming across your cheek. 

Oh…

You push that thought away.  

He rolls the stick fast between his palms, working it from top to bottom, creating friction on the piece of bark under his knee. A fine sheen of dark collects onto another small piece below. You watch as he kneels on the thing and your eyes can’t help but skim up his thigh, noticing how his hard muscles flex against the pressure. 

You glance away fast before you completely lose your mind. 

“What are you doing?” you ask with annoyance even though you already know. Maybe you want to hear him speak. You don’t know why you’ve asked, but that deep, velvety voice is almost like a beacon to you.

His eyes never leave his work. His focus is intent on his task with such intensity, it’s intriguing to you. 

“Building a fire. It will be a cold night,” he says. “And we’ve yet to even have first frost.” 

“You’ve no flints?” you ask with mild alarm.

“No.” His velvety, low voice is calm and confident, never wavering from his task.

And of course, you know there are other ways to start a fire besides flints, but you’ve never done that before. 

Perhaps it’s a bad thing because you were entirely dependent on Aandaris for survival in the wilderness. You’ve never really had to. Aandaris always provided. 

Sadly, you barely know how to start a fire for yourself with flints. That part of outdoorsmanship slipped past you in your training. Maybe you’re naive. You didn’t think you’d ever use it which you’re now severely regretting.

The Commander works his dexterous fingers quickly over his newfound tools. 

Surely, he has many other tricks up his sleeve, and you don’t know why you’d be so interested in any of this. 

You exhale and can see your breath escape in a soft puff of cold, reminding you that you’re losing daylight.  

Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you hate to admit it, but you can’t help being slightly fascinated by this menial task he’s performing.  

Making something out of nothing.

Fine. 

It is only slightly impressive. 

You watch with rapt attention as his graceful hands work.

Finally, there’s a tiny stream of smoke piping from the flattened piece of bark. He reaches for his tinder that’s shaped like a messy, tiny bird’s nest and carefully transfers a small, black piece of hot dust he’d captured from the notch into it. He gently blows over the wild bird’s nest in his hands, and a small puff of smoke erupts from it, stronger than before. 

You watch his full lips as they blow tenderly against the little, budding flame. 

It’s smoking! 

He blows repeatedly, fanning the tiny embers until there’s a bright orange flame licking the top. 

He did it.  

He really did.

He places it on the ground, adding kindling to it carefully in a pyramid shape. As he feeds it gently with more twigs, the tiny dotted, glowing red embers erupt into a wild, stronger flame, fully consuming them to fire.   

As it grows, you can feel its delicious warmth slowly settling through your skin and gaining strength, sinking through you and taking hold. 

He attends to the fire, arranging much larger pieces of wood near it for feeding later in the night. His dark brows knit in thought as he focuses on his task. 

You curl your arms around your knees and enjoy the delectable heat of the pleasant flames sinking deep into your skin. Once the fire is established, he goes to the horse’s pack and rummages through the supplies. 

He hands you a small bundle wrapped in a red cloth. You open it and find a thick piece of bread and cheese with a dried hunk of meat.

You snatch it up and take a tentative bite, hoping it isn’t poisoned, but hunger wins over as you realize how ravenous you are from the long day’s ride. It’s obvious he wouldn’t bring you this far to poison you by now. Besides, the Commander has more sinister things planned for you. 

After you’ve had several satisfying bites, he knits his elegant dark brows together as if he’s confused by something. 

“How long have you been a soldier?” he asks, as he settles across from you with his own clothful of food. 

The question vibrates through every bone in your body, rattling you. You nearly drop your bread onto the dirt. But you’re so starving you’d eat it anyway. 

You shrug, blinded by hunger and nibbling at your hunk of fat ale bread, too tired to even think. “As long as I can remember,” you say with discontent. Even though you’ll never reveal it to him, the day’s ride has taken a toll on your mind and your body. Admittedly, you’re exhausted and wishing for a soft pillow and a warm bed.  

His eyes are trained on your face, curious and intent.

And you don’t feel like divulging further. Not until he gives you something in return that you want. Like your own freedom from these damned shackles or something else. 

But that’s not the only thing that’s stopping you.

In truth, you really don’t remember too much, which feels odd. Why can’t you remember something like that?

It’s a simple answer really…

Still, there are many questions of your own you’d like to know. Perhaps this can work to your advantage after all.

“Since I was a small child,” you finally admit, hoping that will suffice for now. 

“How old are you?” he asks casually, but the way his sharp eyes study your face makes you uneasy for some reason.

You stop eating. Why is he asking you this now? What does that even matter? “And how old are you?” Your voice is full of demand and accusation.

“I asked you first,” he rasps, the challenge there is unmistakable. 

You roll your eyes at him. But you’re feeling a little better now that your belly is nearly full. 

“I’ve seen three and twenty summers, Commander. No more,” you say wearily, your eyes are feeling heavy. Sleep is chasing you. 

He nods in response, perhaps confirming something in his mind. But you know he doesn’t know you. Not really. 

“I see…” he says. 

You finish the rest of your food and lock eyes with him. And you wonder what he’s thinking about. “And what is so interesting about that?”

He’s quiet, debating something, but doesn’t answer.

“Xenmarg ate your tongue, Commander?” you dare to ask.

He sighs and shifts, placing his elbow on his knee. 

“That’s no way for a child to grow up.” There’s sadness or even pity in his voice. 

The center of your belly heats in reaction. You raise your chin.The realization hits you like a punch to the gut. 

He thinks you weak and something to feel sorry for? Someone to pity. “It is our custom and a great honor amongst my people,” you say, affronted. 

His dark brows raise. “To be a child soldier?” he says, confusion mars his fine brow. “I disagree.”

Anger floods your veins because he just doesn’t understand. He’ll never understand you. 

He’s an elf but acts just like a Sherinden which is odd and confusing to you. 

“All orphans become soldiers. You know nothing about our ways,” you say.

You turn around, dismissing him, warming your back against the crackling fire. The night sounds of the forest settle around you, but you realize you’re not done yet. You face him again. “And you don’t know my life. And I don’t need your pity, elf, ” you say, full of fresh contempt. 

“I know enough,” he says gruffly. 

You glare at him. 

“As. Do. I,” you spit the words out and settle in for the night. You know you’re being childish but can’t seem to help yourself. 

You hope he rolls over into the fire in his sleep!  

He doesn’t know anything about you at all. He knows nothing of the life you’ve lived.

But why does it almost feel like he does? 

You ruminate on those thoughts as your drowsiness envelopes you, and your last coherent thought is he never even told you his age. Well, you failed at getting any answers out of him.

Damn him. This is just more elvish trickery.

You finally fall into a fretful sleep. 

In your dreams, you’re haunted by bewitching, green eyes, violent cannon fire, and bone shattering screams all around you. 

You’re running for your life from something that’s shrouded in mist and darkness that you can’t see.

Commander Story Chapter 23

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