CHAPTER 6

SHE WAS PANICKING. She could feel that they were almost in Dorchadas. And once they were there, what would she do? What would her captor do?

Monika had thought herself braver than this. But every time she thought of slipping off Little One's rump and disappearing into the forest, she would freeze and become unable to act upon the thought. What if Hayes hunted her down, as he had done last time? What if he punished her for running away? What if he killed her on the spot? No, there had to be a better course of action.

She could knock him out before she ran away. But then again, she would have to be able to do that. And, she thought, as she looked at his broad back, she wasn't quite sure that she was capable of it. What would she use, anyway? A rock? The butt of one of his own daggers, maybe?

Hayes had not spoken much throughout the entire day. It was nearing sundown, and the only time he had said anything to her was when they'd stopped to eat something.

"Your dress is torn," he had informed her, unloading the knapsacks from Little One's back.

For the first time since she had been kidnapped, she had realized that she was still in her nightdress. Embarrassment tinged her cheeks. What a sight she must be! And how dare Hayes! To have taken her away in this state, with no change of clothing. To have taken her at all!

"I wonder whose fault that is," she retorted, even as she self-consciously fingered it. The tear was just below her knee. She must have ripped it when she'd attempted to get away from him yesterday. "Tell me something. What do you want? Why are you doing this? Does someone hate me so much that they'd wish your company upon me?"

He had smirked at her outburst. She had scowled at him. He had said nothing.

Monika sighed and tried to scoot back in the saddle, away from Hayes, wiping a sheen of sweat off her brow. She had to do this every few minutes so that she wasn't in full body contact with him.

Suddenly, through the gleam of the sun lowering itself in the sky, she became aware of a man ambling along the path in their direction. Her heartbeat thumped loudly in her chest, so loudly that she was sure Hayes could hear it. This could be her chance. Surely, the man might have a heart and help her. She just had to wait for the right moment to call out.

Hayes didn't seem to pay any attention to the stranger at first, but as they neared him, he flicked the reins to get Little One moving a bit faster. Monika had to speak now, she knew, before they moved past the man.

"Help!" she cried, the sound of desperateness in her voice. Little One's ears twitched as it rung out. "Help me, please!"

It took a few moments for one of three things to happen. First, Hayes realized what she was trying to do, and tried to get Little One to canter. Second, Little One decided that now was time to prove she had a stubborn streak, and for that Monika was grateful. And then finally, the man seemed to notice that she had been talking to him.

"What's this, eh?" he called out to them. "What's going on 'ere?"

"Please, sir, this man is holding me captive!"

Hayes didn't like her defiance. He spun in the saddle and placed a heavy hand over Monika's mouth, quieting her as Little One came to a stop. "Don't say anything else," he whispered to her, his breath hot on her neck and his tone dangerous.

Then he let go of her, and turned to offer the man a wide beam, one that completely transformed his face. So, she thought. The ogre knows how to smile. Her hands were still shaking from the obvious threat in his voice when he'd spoken to her, and she couldn't reconcile his charming grin with what she'd seen of him so far. It was somewhat crooked, and yet still appealing.

"Little sisters," Hayes said, accompanying his words with a headshake. "Can't live with them, can't live without them."

The man's face visibly softened, and he smiled. "Aye. I know how it goes. Got three young lasses at home and none of 'em like to listen to their older brother."

Monika was astonished with what was unfolding. Didn't he realize that her hands were shaking? That the blood had drained from her face? "No, sir, you don't understand-" she began, but her words died in her mouth when she felt the tip of something sharp pressing against her abdomen.

"Keep this up," Hayes growled lowly, for only her to hear, "and you might just find that you regret it."

She swallowed. Swallowed again. Nodded. The man was looking at them like they were trolls that had grown wings, and it was no wonder. They were a confusing scene. The sharp thing dug a little deeper into Monika's gut. "I-I was just f-fooling around," she told him. "My brother annoys me. I like to return the favour at times." She looked to Hayes' face to see if this was enough, and it seemed it was, because he pulled whatever he'd been poking her with away.

The man, who appeared to be at least old enough to have grandchildren already, nodded at them. "Alright then. I bid ya good day." And just like that, he walked on, as Monika felt her heart plummet to her stomach. Disappointment tasted bitter.

"I hate you," she hissed at Hayes.

He didn't respond. Instead, he grabbed the reins and made as if to move on, but then turned to face her again at the last moment. "This is what you were afraid of," he said, holding up a jagged looking stone. "I would and will never hold a knife to you."

That was what he had been prodding her with?

She could have sworn she saw the corner of his mouth tugging up when he saw her realize how pathetic it was. Monika snatched it from him, surprising even herself with her brazenness, and threw it far away. "Get on with it," she told him, gesturing with her hand at the road and resisting the urge to slap him. "Continue with your kidnapping."

See if I care, she thought. But oh, she did. She wanted never to see his obnoxious face again.

He chuckled, a deep, rich sound that didn't match his brooding eyes or wild head of hair. "As you wish, m'lady."

"I despise you," she said.

"I'm deeply offended," he said. Without missing a beat.

She huffed. How was it that he could scare her so thoroughly in one minute and then grate on her nerves in the next? She thought she might nearly be ready to give up on life.

But all she had to do was think of Alastar, and her jaw was set with determination again.

She wondered if Zaira was missing her. Or Vevina, maybe. She'd been hopeful of the futures of her friendships with them, and now she didn't know if she'd ever see them again.

And Al. Oh, Al. He must be searching everywhere for her, him and the Thorn Knights of Ceol. She would save them the hassle and get away on her own. She would make it back to him and become his bride. I am yours, she would say. And you are mine, he would say. She frowned, realizing for the first time that it was saying the same thing twice.

Hayes started humming some sort of tune, breaking through her thoughts, and then she was sure she'd seen it all. Or heard it all. The ogre hums.

It was nearly dark when they arrived in Dorchadas. Monika had not expected it to look the way it did. She'd imagined a tall, barricaded gate, guards stomping all over the place, and dubious looking characters hiding out in every corner. Not the neat little wooden houses of a peaceful village, the sound of clanging metal somewhere in the distance and only the occasional Steel Knight patrolling the streets. Over all, the atmosphere seemed calm, a juxtaposition when combined with the tenseness inside her.

The smell of evening meals being prepared drifted in the air as they Little One walked on down the middle of the small village. She saw a plank of wood hung from a tree, the name Beag carved into it.

"The Village of Beag is closest to the border between Ceol and Dorchadas," Hayes said, startling Monika with his deep voice. "There are good people here, so stop looking as if you are inspecting a crime scene. Not all the stories of the first kingdom are true."

She gritted her teeth. "Might you originate from here? Because if that's so, I'd say that my first impression of a Beag villager has not been a pleasant one."

He laughed, and she wished she could see his face. It felt wrong to be talking to his back. "No. I don't come from around here. But I'm not a believer in prejudice."

"You're a believer in kidnapping people against their will and taking them far away from their home, then?" she snapped.

His shoulders stiffened, but he didn't reply. She felt slightly triumphant that her blow had landed home. Maybe he did have a conscience. Maybe.

After some time, they stopped outside a cottage. Monika couldn't wait to get her aching body off Little One's bony back. Voices spilled from the little house, and the smell of roast lamb teased her. Her stomach rumbled.

"We'll stay here tonight," Hayes said. "In the morning, we'll be heading deeper into the heart of Dorchadas."

*

HIS MIND WAS sinking, his heart was stiffening. A world without Monika. It was cold and dark and he did not want to live in it.

Yet, in the time after his father had told him the devastating news, life continued. King Odran invited King Berit, his daughter, Princess Ciara, and their entourage of servants and subjects that had journeyed with them from Angeal to Ceol to stay for another few days.

Alastar knew very well what his father was hoping for, but he was in no way attracted to Ciara. Even if he were, it was not appearance that mattered. Monika was- had been beautiful, that was a truth. But she had been more than that. She had been his Monika, and he had loved her charm, her wit, her compassionate heart. How could he live without her? There no was no other maiden the same.

He'd refused to believe it at first. He'd thought it a hoax. Monika, dead? She couldn't be dead when the moon and the stars still hung in the sky. She couldn't be dead when his heart was still beating.

And then two of the knights, the Thorns that had been searching the kingdom for her had shown him the dirtied and bloodied nightdress they'd found on a trail that led out of Ceol.

"I suppose she wanted to be outside to clear her head on the eve before the wedding," Odran murmured, his face shadowed with thought.

"Can't be sure, but I think it was wolves," one of the knights said.

"T'is a pity," the other knight said.

But no one, no one except himself, could feel the pain that tore through Al. "No," he'd whispered. "No, this doesn't prove anything. Anything at all."

"My boy," Odran said, "we would show you the body but I do not think that is how you would like to remember our lovely Monika. I am truly sorry, Alastar. No man should have to live through something like this."

And for the very first time in his life, Al had wept on his father's shoulder. It didn't add up. It couldn't be true. Why had it happened? What had she been thinking, walking out into the kingdom at night, a young woman unattended? He was almost angry with her. But he couldn't be. He loved her too much. He missed her too much.

"Join us for dinner tonight, Alastar," Queen Padraigin commanded, after a few days of Al hiding away in his bedchamber. "I understand that you are in mourning, but I think it would do you good."

He couldn't bear to go on living as if nothing had happened.

But he was a prince, and although he'd never wished such a thing upon himself, fate, whom he had thought had been smiling down on him, seemed to be waiting for him to get on with it now. He had responsibilities, and his father urged him to get to know the young princess Ciara.

"I know it's soon, too soon," Odran nodded his head, stroked his chin. "But maybe in time..."

"My poor, dear Alastar," Padraigin cooed and comforted. "You will find joy again, you will. I will have it no other way."

And the life in Al's eyes dimmed slowly. They did not light up when they landed on Ciara, who seemed to be always by his side, or when they saw Mountain, his beloved horse. They did not light up when he came home successful from a hunt. They did not light up when his parents threw an evening ball in an attempt to cheer him.

He tried not to, because he knew the devastation it could lead to, but still he hoped. He hoped that it was impossible, that it was untrue, that she had not died, and that Monika would come home to him.