The air grows cooler, thicker with dew. A fine sheen of dampness coats your skin causing a shudder to scuttle over your skin. 

And the scent of clean earth is everywhere. 

The path narrows, forcing your mare to follow in single file behind the Commander’s stallion. 

Her ears pin back sharply and fully alert. Your gaze darts around the perimeter—there’s nothing there but perpetual green engulfed in shadow and stones swallowed by moss. 

You pull tight on your reins, halting her before moving deeper into the forest. She blows out a harsh breath. 

Perhaps it’s relief.

It seems she has a similar mind and doesn’t like the look of it either. Smart girl. 

“Commander?” you ask, trying your best to mask the alarm in your voice. “We should go around,” you say with all the authority that you don’t possess. 

The air stills and the noises dim to a quiet, discomforting hum.

His eyes snap to yours as if he’s expecting something. 

Waiting. 

It’s… odd.  

Gods. Why does he have to stare at you like that? What is he looking for? 

You squirm in your saddle, but you refuse to shy away from his penetrating gaze. 

Raising your chin, you meet the boldness of his stare right back with equally fierce intensity.  

“You know a better way?” he asks you with a seriousness that is unsettling, but you don’t even know why. 

Your stomach drops. 

Oh… 

Okay, well he has you there. You don’t know this land at all, but why this way? 

Why this way where the terrain changes, where everything becomes more and more foreign to you. 

More like your dream. 

A cold sweat breaks out on your forehead. You swallow the dryness in your throat.  

You close your eyes, breathing in deeply and push those thoughts away. 

As you get closer and closer to the Capital, your enslavement will become permanent. 

And you won’t go down without a fight. 

You’ve got to get out of here.

“Surely there’s a better way witho–” You were about to say, without this horrific forest, but stop yourself short. 

“With fewer—” You swallow the lump in your throat. “Obstacles?”

“Once we’re deeper in the Vesperwealde,” he says, “we cross the river. There’s no faster way.”

“The Listening Wood?” you say, using the name you’ve seen on Aandaris maps. That, you do remember because it is massive in scale. But it’s also the name people whisper within and beyond its borders. 

“The Vesperwealde,” he corrects, careful with each syllable. “Give the forest her due respect.”

You scoff, gaping at him. Why would you need to respect a forest? “You know…” You lean forward, trying to calm your pounding heart. “They’re only a bunch of trees…” 

Even so, you glance around uneasily, as if the forest herself will snap out at you with a stray branch, punishing you for your insolence. 

And you don’t care what it’s called, you really don’t want to move deeper through it. Something inside you tightens in preparation. 

He offers you his profile but doesn’t comment. 

You heave out a breath. 

“How are you sure there’s not a better way?” you continue, hoping to dispel your unease.

A bird caws somewhere in the distance, marking time. 

“This is the shortest way,” he says smoothly but doesn’t bother explaining further.

He could be lying. 

But why would he? 

Plus, you have no choice but to believe him. Gazing up lazily at the canopy of trees, you watch how they sway gently from side to side.

Almost as if welcoming you.

Or warning you.

“Do you know this path?” You rub your hand on your mare’s soft neck, a comforting gesture. Perhaps it’s more for you than for her. She’s a good horse, and you start wondering what her name is. Perhaps you should give her one. 

No. That would imply a closeness, and you won’t be here for much longer. 

Not if you can help it.

He nods. “I do.” And again, as greedy as ever with his information, he doesn’t divulge any more details. You gaze uneasily at the ancient path. 

“Perhaps if we take the coastline–” you offer. That might also give you more time. 

More time to figure out an escape.  

“No,” he says, too quickly. 

Then…

His gaze shifts away from you, set deep beyond the trees. 

“We don’t have enough rations to make that journey.”

This isn’t going anywhere. 

Staring down at your shackled wrists that are tethered by the long chain to his black stallion, a heavy sigh leaks from your lips. You grumble. 

The weight of them is uncomfortable, unbearable.

When will you be free of them? 

You grind your teeth together. “Fine,” you snip, even though he’s not asking for your agreement.  

Through the Vesperwealde it is. 

****

Hours later, the Commander slows his stallion and dismounts, studying the surroundings with interest. 

You suddenly get a wild thought as you dismount your mare. 

What if you run when he unshackles you?

Your pulse rises. 

But what if he catches you?

No.

Don’t think about it.

Seize the moment when you have it. 

You could do it. 

Try. 

The Commander moves toward you, and you thrust your hands out.  

He handles your wrists by the irons only.

Again, taking care to never graze your bare skin.  

You glance away, irritation tightening through you.  

You’ve given up on figuring him out. 

Does he find you that repulsive? 

Well… you don’t care anymore. 

The man…elf…whatever he is… is impossible. 

Still the weightlessness of your hands is thrilling now that you’re free of the burden of the irons. 

You stand as still as ever as he moves away, and slowly you walk toward the surrounding forest and choose a path. The one that bends left is calling to you. 

Southwest. 

Towards the coastline. 

Towards home. 

Free. You’re free to roam.

You could run.

Hide.

Where he won’t catch you. 

Yes. 

And your feet are much quicker than your mind. While you’re still debating which way to turn, they move before your mind catches up.

Yes!

You’re sprinting into the forest in the opposite direction of him. 

Away from him.  

Don’t stop running. 

You race through the forest. Stray branches whip past you. Some snag on your leather armbands, but you don’t care.

Because a flood of energy surges through every muscle of your body, giving your strength.   

And the taste of freedom is sweeter the farther you go. 

You’ve been running for what feels like many remars now.

But the forest is thick and hard to navigate, but you catch the first scent of the salty ocean. 

Perhaps it’s just your imagination.

Is it?

The thought of it spurs you on. 

It’s a sign. 

If it’s indeed the coastline, you have a chance. You could move south and fish and hide in the rocky cliffs or pose as a peasant somewhere in a tiny town.

And eventually, you’ll find your freedom. 

The forest itself seems to part and shift. Not entirely enough to make it easy, but enough to follow.

You almost forgive her for snapping her branches out at you a few breaths ago. 

But something changes in the wind, and all the fine hairs on the back of your neck stick up, alarmed. 

You stop.

The skin on your arms raises.  

You’re being watched. 

Odd that you can feel it now. 

You scan the perimeter of the forest, turning around in place.  

There’s nothing there. 

Nothing at all. 

The noise of the forest itself has gone quiet to a whisper.  

Then you see him.

The Commander is only a few paces ahead of you. 

Standing directly in your path. 

He’s as still as one of the giant forest trees. 

A looming and ancient force. And you almost missed him. 

He’s watching you. 

Still. Lethal.

Already waiting for you like he expected you. 

The confusion of it has you unsettled. 

He didn’t chase you.  

He intercepted your path— and waited.

Your eyes widen. But…but how?

You’re breathing hard, in and out—your chest burning. 

“You,” you stab out the words.

Your ragged breath is the only sound between you as he watches you.

Such a menace.  

Sweat trails down your front, reminding you of your tiny weapon pressed into your chest.  

The idea of it comforts you.

But it won’t do you any good to reveal it now.  

He’ll only snatch it away. 

“Get it out of your system?” he says, his voice low and velvety. 

You gasp and shift on your feet. 

What? And how is he not even out of breath?  

“Not yet, Commander.” 

You calculate the space between the narrow path and where he leans way too casually against the tree.  

You could make it past him. 

You could try again. 

And then you do. 

As you sprint past him, giving him a wide berth, you’re shocked when he does nothing.

Your pulse quickens from the thrill, the blood in your veins roars past your ears.

You don’t want to risk even a glance over your shoulder as you gain speed. 

Perhaps he’s let you go for good? 

Your skin grows cold and clammy as you pull away from him. 

You glance over your shoulder and the path has bended.

He’s not in pursuit.

You seemed to have lost him. 

But a feeling of dread coils inside your belly the longer you run.

He hasn’t yelled after you. 

Or even chased you?

Something is wrong. 

Your belly coils with dread. 

And you realize why when you almost slam into a huge wall of rock from a mountainside blocking the way. 

Dead end. 

The huge wall blocks your path forward, in fact, you glance to the left and the right and the entire way is a huge mountain. The other side is the ocean, no doubt. 

The west coast of Sherinde. 

Your heart thunders in your chest as you grab a foothold and scale it, gaining confidence as you scramble up the wall. 

You can scent the salty sea, it’s just beyond this cliff. 

Yes.  

But your shaky grip loosens.

No. No. No.

You’ve got to make it.

But your foot can’t get hold of anything. 

And the small rock you’re gripping breaks off. 

You slide down the mountain, grabbing at anything to soften your fall. You tumble down and finally land on your back. 

Oooph. 

It was only a few feet, but all the air is forced out of your lungs. 

Tiny rocks and dust from the cliff rain over you. The remnants of your fall. 

Your ears are ringing softly with a high-pitched sound that takes a few moments to fade. 

You’re out of breath, staring at the canopy of trees overhead as they sway gently in the wind, brushing past each other. 

Almost as if laughing at you. 

And then the Commander approaches soundlessly down the same way you came. He strides over, unhurried and stops several paces from your pitiful position. 

You’re staring at all the tiny bits of gravel embedded into your palms. It’s all that’s left of your great escape. 

“Y/n…are you injured?” he asks. 

He most likely saw you fall. 

No. 

You exhale a straggled breath.

Only your pride. 

You refuse to even look at him.

He offers his black-gloved hand to help you up. 

When did he put on gloves? 

The gesture makes your insides burn.

You don’t take it.

Rising to your feet on your own, you stab him with your glare.

How can he be so deathly calm after this? He’s a cheater.

What kind of a man would—

You breathe out through your nose, thinking on it. 

Right. 

He’s not a human man. No human could ever be this fast. 

You narrow your eyes. “Why are you doing this?” you bite out the words. 

The wind has picked up making the branches sway wildly. 

“It’s my duty,” he says as if that explains it all. 

It doesn’t. 

Not at all. 

You’ve so many questions. 

And no answers.

Just the pull of him when he stares at you. 

But it’s the way that he does it. 

As if he’s waiting for something. 

And you don’t understand it at all. 

What? 

You almost want to scream out to him, but the words never leave your mouth. 

As he runs his eyes over your face, his gaze lingers and holds steady.

Waiting again… 

Not searching for injury. 

For something else. 

It never comes. 

He shuts his eyes, glancing away, exhaling. 

He looks back at you. 

The gaze from before is long gone. 

He’s methodical as he’s checking you over for injuries. 

Even still, a tiny ember of warmth flickers inside your chest. Strong and undeniable. 

Ugh. 

You hate that feeling and shove it away in complete disgust. 

Traitor to your own people. 

You brush the hair out of your face, exhaling. 

“Just tell them I died during the journey. I– I’ll pay you,” you say, even though you’ve no coins on you at all. And you regret it the moment it comes out of your mouth.

His dark brow lifts in response as if he knows your line of thought. 

Well, he knows nothing about your life. 

But he does know you’re lying which makes you feel even more desperate. 

You glance away, refusing to look at him. It’s your only rebellion. 

That tiny flare of hope you had moments ago is gone. 

No. You suspect there is nothing you can ever give the Commander to make him betray his duty to Sherinde. 

Your lip curls. 

Your clench your jaw, grinding your teeth together. Breathing roughly in and out. 

“I can’t possibly be worth anything when you dump me in that place. Why won’t you release me?” 

He inhales, his eyes trace over your face leaving unwelcome heat taunting you in its place. 

Your breath hitches.  

But it’s as if he’s weighing something in his mind. His eyes…they fill with something captivating, full of soufulness that’s so rare on him, and you imagine yourself losing yourself in that look. 

You have the strongest urge that you’ve ever had to lean in, and you fight it with everything you have. 

Something he wants to say. 

You can’t tell. 

“I won’t be the one who—” 

He stops. 

Your entire body stills. 

You pulse pounds against your neck and you hold your breath in anticipation. 

What is it? 

Something you cannot recognize flickers through his eyes. 

The forest has grown quiet as if it’s leaning in and listening.

Waiting.

And it’s as if time has slowed down between you.

The air is still, as if expecting something to happen. 

He takes a breath then tears his gaze from yours—fast.

Breaking the spell. 

His brows knits together.  

Your heartbeat stumbles on itself then races for something that doesn’t ever come. 

Your eyes widen. 

What? 

When he looks back at you… it’s all gone. 

He almost looks bored, unaffected. In control. 

The Commander. 

“That is not happening, Y/n,” he says.

He didn’t finish that thought, and now you’re wondering what he was going to say. “You won’t be the one who what?” 

He draws in a breath, looking down at you. 

“It wouldn’t change anything,” he says in a dark voice that shakes you. Because you know it’s final.  

You lift your chin. 

Fine. “I meant what I said days ago. I’ll make this trip miserable for you. I’ll keep trying.” 

His eyes snare yours. “You can try.”

Your skin warms in that delectably uncomfortable way whenever he watches you, making your breath suspend in your throat. 

And your pulse is as wild and untamed as a dragon soaring into the inky night sky. 

You shove the feeling far away, hoping you can still escape it.

“I’ll always find you.”

You don’t know if it’s a threat.

Or a promise.

Or both. 

He motions with his hand, an invitation for you to go back the same way you came. 

Your shoulders drop. 

As if you want to go back that way. 

Back to the horses. 

Back to this never-ending trip.

Back to being his prisoner.

As you walk past him, maintaining your distance, you notice that he never even touched you.  

Not even back there. 

Even so… 

you know this round is over. 

Glaring at him, you turn on your heel. 

He follows behind like an ominous and lethal shadow looming over you. 

And you can feel his eyes trace blazing heat along your back the entire time. 

Next Chapter >>>> Chapter 25

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