Eden-South (18 page)

Instead of calling her to him, he pulled the
top fur blanket off the bed and placed it at the foot of the bed.
He then proceeded to toss a pillow on top of what looked like
makeshift bed.

“You will sleep there tonight,” he said in
his elegant voice. Her body was frozen on the chair, too afraid to
move a muscle. “Would you rather sleep on the chair?” he asked, his
voice betraying his annoyance. She shook her head and slowly stood
up, walking over to the blanket on the floor. He watched her
intently as she curled herself into a ball on the floor, pulling
the blanket up to her chin. Without another word, he climbed into
bed himself. Rose didn’t hear another word from him for the rest of
the night. Shortly after he climbed into bed, she heard his light
snoring and knew he had fallen asleep. Her eyes were heavy too,
finally closing on their own accord, and sending Rose into a deep
sleep.

It was mid-afternoon when Rose finally woke
up. The heat of midday filled the tent, causing sweat to build at
the base of her neck. She threw the heavy blanket off her, sitting
up with her knees to her chest. Looking around, she immediately
noticed the empty sheets on the bed beside her. She hadn’t heard
him wake up and leave, but she was certainly thankful he had. A
small lady bustled in unexpectedly, carrying a tray of food. She
kept her eyes down, avoiding Rose’s look. Dropping the tray on the
floor in front of her, the lady quickly turned and left. She wanted
to call out but doubted it would do any good. The woman was clearly
as scared of these men as the rest of them.
The others,
she
suddenly thought. Her heart beat faster as she remembered all the
others who had been brought there. What was happening to them, she
wondered. Getting up slowly, she walked over to the opening and
pulled back the tent flaps. Letting out a scream, she fell back
hard onto the floor, bruising her tailbone. Her captor’s body now
blocked the opening, and he looked down at her questioningly.

“Ow,” she cried, unable to help it. Rubbing
her back, she slowly looked up at the man’s face, which at that
moment looked almost amused. It was the first minor evidence of a
personality in him.

“Are you okay?” he asked, keeping his stance
in the entrance.

She nodded her head, lowering her eyes
again.

“You should eat,” he continued, walking in
and taking off his riding gloves. He sat down on the chair and
began to remove his heavy boots. “What is your name?” Her back was
to him now. All her instincts told her to go along with him—maybe
that would save her from being abused—but her mind wouldn’t let
her. She hated him, hated all the barbarians in the camp, and
couldn’t willingly have a conversation with them. He let her sit
there quietly a minute before speaking again. “I asked you what
your name is. It is rude to ignore someone’s question.”

Without thinking properly, she turned to
look at him, anger burning hot in her chest. “You dare to speak to
me about what is rude? You have killed everyone I have known and
loved, and now keep me prisoner. Is that not ‘rude’? Why should I
give you my name, when you only plan to rid yourself of me when you
move on?” Her cheeks were hot, and tears welled up in her eyes. She
had just put her foot in her mouth, but she didn’t care. If she
were any braver, she would have gotten up right then and there and
clawed at the man. His face wore the same detached look he normally
had around her.

Slowly he began to smile, looking down to
hide it from her, but she caught it. This angered her even more.
Flying up from the floor, she ran at him, all thoughts now turned
to a flurry of emotions. Her hands flew to his chest, punching him
as hard as she could. He was momentarily taken off guard, but he
gathered his wits quickly, grabbing both her hands and picking her
up in a tight embrace. Even though she was now squished against his
chest, she continued to try to move her hands and began kicking and
kneeing at his legs. Lifting her off the ground, he carried her
over to the bed, pinning her limbs down with his. His face now
hovered above her as she struggled with whatever strength she had
left. It was no use. She had no food in her stomach, and the
emotions that filled her body weakened her more, the adrenaline
slowly draining. He seemed to wait for her to stop moving. Unable
to move a muscle, she finally gave in, looking up at his face. In
the light of the day she could see his features better. When he had
first found her in their house, his eyes had looked black, but now
she saw that they weren’t black like a demon’s, but a deep
chocolate brown. She searched them as he looked back at her. Her
father used to say she was an old soul. He said her eyes looked
like deep wells from years of past lives, just like this man’s.
There was so much to be read in his chocolate eyes—sorrow, guilt,
anger, rage, and something else she didn’t want to see.

Her breathing came out heavy as he kept her
pinned down against the bed.

“What is your name?” he finally asked again,
his face close to hers.

“Rose,” she replied, clenching her teeth. He
smiled in response, a smile that was not mocking, but genuine. The
kind of smile that would normally have made a person smile in
response, it lit up his face in a way that made him seem almost
like a different person than the one she had known so far.

“Was that so hard?” He got up, walking back
over to the chair to take off the boot he hadn’t been able to take
off yet. Her body shook as she stayed on the bed. It took her a
moment to regain her composure before she sat up on the edge of
it.

“What do you want from me?” she asked.

His eyes looked over at her, looking her up
and down. “I don’t know yet.” He shrugged indifferently. It was
such a casual answer, as if she had asked him what he wanted to eat
for lunch. It made her angry. It was bad enough that she was there,
but to not even have a purpose made it even worse.

“I won’t sleep with you,” she blurted out,
her cheeks growing hot from just saying the words. The thought of
sleeping with a man was foreign to her, and it was embarrassing to
even mention. His eyebrows shot up in surprise, his mouth
tightening to a straight line. His jaw seemed to become even more
pronounced. She kept her face stern, hoping he would take her
seriously.

“Callum!” a man’s voice yelled from outside.
A second later the man threw open the flaps and barged into the
tent. He stopped in surprise when he saw Rose sitting on the bed.
Rose knew who this was—everyone knew him by his red hair and large
physique. Brutus was a hard-looking man. His hair was as fiery as
the flames he set upon villages; his face had strong lines and bone
structure. The only thing that was soft about him was the baby blue
eyes, which currently looked at her questioningly. He wore the same
black pants and boots as the prince but had a chest plate covering
the front of him and a helmet under one arm. “I didn’t realize you
were busy,” he said, still looking at Rose. Her cheeks grew even
hotter at the implication.

“I’m not,” the prince snorted. Callum was
his name, Rose reminded herself. She hadn’t been able to remember
what it was before Brutus had just addressed him. Now she did,
however: Callum, the younger son of the late High King Elrond.
Looking over at him, she wondered if he missed his father, or if he
ever wondered what he would think of him knowing he was in league
with Brutus and the sorcerer.

“Who is this, then?” Brutus smiled. Callum
looked over at her for the first time since Brutus had arrived. He
again wore the detached look that she was becoming accustomed
to.

“Her name is Rose,” he replied, looking
away. “I picked her up last night from the village at the base of
the mountain.”

“A fine lass!” he said, chuckling. “How do
you do, Rose. I am Brutus.”

“I know who you are,” she said back harshly.
She bit her tongue immediately, cursing her temper. Surprisingly,
he laughed in response. Rose knew people had been killed for less
when it came to this man.

“A fiery one.” He chuckled again. “Excellent
choice, my boy. It is about time.”

“It’s not like that,” Callum replied,
avoiding her stare. Brutus raised his eyebrows, but didn’t press
the matter. Rose had to admit she was a little confused herself by
Callum’s behaviour toward her.

“Moving on then, yeah?” Brutus continued,
taking a seat beside her on the bed. She wanted to move away, but
knew better than to be rude again. His good humour could last only
so long. He didn’t touch her, though, nor did he really look at her
as they sat side by side. “We have word that your brother has been
informed of our movements. I’m going to guess that he will want to
keep any confrontations away from the city walls, so the army will
be moving out within the next week or so. You know your brother
well. Where do you think he’ll wait for us?”

Callum was looking down at his map as Brutus
spoke. He seemed deep in concentration, running his eyes over all
of Eden.

“It will have to be far enough to pose no
danger to his people inside the walls, but close enough that they
can still take advantage of the resources they have there.”

“Will they use the witch?”

Callum laughed bitterly. “My brother would
rather die himself than put her at risk. Diana holds a special
place in Jameson’s heart, so I wouldn’t count on her being in
attendance.”

“Good news for us then.” He smiled, nudging
Rose as if she were expected to agree. The man seemed to think she
was on their side for some reason. She kept her eyes on the floor,
avoiding his jest. She saw him shrug his shoulders at her
indifference. He looked back at Callum. “Aziz will have the run of
the place then, which is an extreme asset for our side. What do you
think they will have to counter us with then? Surely he is not
depending solely on his army?”

Callum continued looking at the map
intently. Rose watched as he slowly eliminated spots one by one.
She had heard that his brother was the better soldier of the two,
but Callum was known for his intelligence. His years in the north
had visibly changed him physically, Rose noted, likely making him
as good a soldier now. She figured his brain was probably still his
biggest asset, though. He finally sat back, looking over at Brutus
only.

“I’m not sure what he’ll have,” he replied
thoughtfully. “The King’s army is strong, and talented, but no
match for ours. If we were attacking with just our men then it
would be close, but Aziz’s contribution to our army is no match for
them. I can’t imagine the High Priest or the Chancellor letting my
brother rely solely on the army, so they must have something else
up their sleeves.”

“What, though? What could they possibly
have, if they refuse to use the witch?”

“Well, my brother will refuse to use Diana.
I’m sure the others wouldn’t mind having her there, but it won’t
happen. I’ve had my spies within the Capital City looking around,
and none of them has offered me anything. They appear to have
nothing else.” Brutus barked in laughter.

“Then this will be easier than I imagined.
Soon, my friend, you will have your Kingdom back, and we will rule
Eden!” Callum’s face remained sober as he turned back to the map.
His finger landed on a spot.

“Here is where he’ll go. I would almost put
my life on it.”

Brutus got up from the bed and walked over
to look down at the spread-out map. “The emerald field? Are you
sure?”

“Positive,” he replied, nodding. “It is far
enough from the city, and the river will be behind them, so if they
need to retreat they can lead our men into the waters. The King’s
army is trained in those waters; they know the currents, whereas
our men are not used to having to wade through water like this. It
would be a big advantage to them. It is also far enough away from
any smaller villages, so he won’t put anyone else at risk.”

“But it’s so flat, there would be nowhere to
hide,” he argued.

“My brother won’t plan on hiding. He’ll want
this battle to be face to face, as simple as it can be.”

“What about us then? How do we use this to
our advantage?” Brutus asked, leaning down on the table.

“They might have the river, but behind us is
the forest. That will give us sufficient cover from their archers,
not to mention give our own archers infinite places to hide and
pick their men off one by one,” Callum answered.

Brutus gave him a slap on the back. “Good
point, my boy. Then we should head out soon. It will take us a week
or more to get there ourselves.”

“Don’t worry—they’ll be waiting for us.”

As the two men began going into further
detail about the battle, Rose silently crept over to the tray on
the floor and began eating. At one point she saw Callum look at her
from the corner of his eye, observing that she was eating, but he
continued on with his battle plans. Looking at his profile, Rose
couldn’t help but wonder what he would look like if he didn’t have
a beard on his face. It made him seem older than he really was. As
far as she could remember, he was only in his early thirties, his
face and hair barely touched by age. She could see how smooth his
face still was, but he hid it behind the short beard. Brutus was
already in his fifties, she thought, and even he still looked good.
It must be the air up in the mountains, she speculated. Her head
tilted as she looked at Callum, trying to picture what he would
have looked like when he was her age. He was twice her age,
literally. Her attention was so involved with her thoughts that it
took her a moment to realize he was looking back at her. Instantly
her cheeks heated. She looked away quickly, not even wanting to
think about the expression that might have been on her face. When
she glanced back up through her eyelashes, he was looking away
again.