Hours

Hours
Something cold slips beneath my skin and I flinch before my eyes even open.

Pain comes to life, a dull, relentless ache settling into every muscle. My shoulders throb the worst, the memory of hours spent hanging from my wrists lingering deep in the joints.

A rug scratches my cheek and that’s when I realize that the chain no longer pulls my arm over my head. It tugs lightly at my wrists from somewhere behind me.

I force my eyes open.

The same carved wooden pole stands above me, but now a shorter length of chain circles it, leaving me slumped on the floor at its base. 

A quiet voice murmurs somewhere beyond the hanging drapes. “You’re awake.”

I jerk at the sound, sending a shooting pain from my wrist down to my elbow. I groan, seeing a thin tube disappearing into my skin. My eyes follow the tube, to the leather pouch hanging above my head, on the pole. 

It sways gently from side to side, the horrible realization reaching me that it’s dark red blood filling it up. 

My blood.

Another sharp sting pulls my attention downward. A second needle disappears beneath the inside of my thigh, another tube leading toward another half-filled pouch.

The sight makes my stomach turn. I close my eyes to stop the nausea that I feel all the way up to my throat. I don’t remember the last time I ate, but I can taste it coating the back of my tongue. 

“Remarkable.”

The voice is closer now, sending vibrations down my spine. I snap my eyes open, breath catching as I stare into Kaan’s dark eyes. 

He sweeps my expression once and then studies the blood collecting inside the pouches. 

“You’ve given me far more blood than I expected. I thought we would have to stop much earlier.”

I keep my eyes fixed on the tent ceiling, not wanting to give in to the tears that burn my eyes. 

He reaches for the pouch, weighing it in his hand before unhooking it and passing it to one of the men standing behind him. “Replace it.”

The man bows his head, never looking at me as he unhooks the full pouch and fastens an empty one to the tube. I swallow against the nausea still rolling through me.

“How much are you going to take?” The words stick to my dry mouth. 

Kaan follows my gaze to the fresh pouch. “As much as I can take.”

My chest tightens. “You’ll kill me.”

“No. I need you alive.” His fingers brush absently over the rings still circling my fingers.

I close my eyes again. I can stay alive a little longer. That’s all I need. Just to survive a little longer. Dastan is coming and then I’ll be free. 

Urgent footsteps come, loud voices bickering just outside the tent. I don’t have the energy to open my eyes, but I hear the flap of the tent open. 

Hear the sound of a soft, tentative voice. “Your majesty.”

Kaan breathes heavily and I force my eyes open. There’s a soldier, bent over his knees as he struggles to catch his breath. 

Kaan looks annoyed, jaw clenching as he finally tears his eyes from me. “What is it?”

“Our scouts...” The man struggles to catch his breath. “They’ve spotted riders.”

Something stirs inside my chest, adrenaline rushing through me. I try to sit up, to listen better, but my body doesn’t answer. 

Kaan tenses. “How many?”

“Four.” The soldier swallows. “They’re heading straight toward us.”

Hope blooms, pain ricocheting from how fast my blood pumps. Dastan. He found me.

Kaan, however, doesn’t look surprised or even moderately bothered. He just sighs. “How long?”

“Hours.”

Silence settles over the tent. Kaan nods once. “They’re catching up. Prepare everything.”

Kaan turns back toward me. His eyes drift over my face before settling on the rings still circling my fingers.

A faint smile touches his lips. “They’re persistent. I’ll give them that.”

I force myself upright, every muscle trembling from the effort. “They’re going to stop you.”

Kaan simply watches me. “They won’t.”

I want to scream, but I can barely keep myself upright. 

“They’re going to be too late.” His voice is calm.

Cold gathers weakly beneath my fingertips, tiny crystals spread over rug beneath my hands until I feel it beneath my thighs.

“We will cross the portal, and your people will kneel for us.” 

His eyes go glazed, as if he’s imagining the future. 

I shake my head. “I’ll tell them what you are, what you’ve done to me. They’ll kill you.”

A quiet chuckle leaves him. “No.”

Again with that words, it’s the only thing he seems to know how to say. 

“They’ll recognize me as the man who brought their Anointed home.”

Revulsion twists my stomach.

“They’ll worship me as much as they worship you.”

I shake my head, feeling my mouth turn into cotton. 

“And when we announce that we have an heir inside of you, they will write my name into the histories.”

I stare at him, unable to speak. Every instinct inside me screams to run, to fight. I need more of my power. I flex my fingers, wanting to freeze the entire mountain. But the ice does not come. My body is depleted, weak without my blood. Only a few tiny crystals bloom beneath my fingertips before melting into the rug again. 

All I can do is stare right at him. Even if he isn’t looking at me. He’s looking through me, at the throne he can take from my hands.