Chapter 3

Mistrust

"Very well. We will keep him alive," Watharen declared.

Christiana fought to keep her face impassive as the verdict was given and her stomach loosened from the knots it had been twisting itself into.

Watharen sat on a throne like chair across the tent from her. The tent was large and spacious, with a large table to the side covered in papers and scrolls, and various other things fit for a warlords command center.

Nothing in the tent, however, was as imposing as the man who sat before her.

Watharen wore his usual attire. Black breeches tucked into knee high, dark brown leather boots. A long sleeve, stark white shirt with billowing sleeves tied at the wrist, and tucked into his pants, left open slightly to show his powerful chest. A long dark cape, the color of dried blood, was fastened with silver chain at his throat. A belt studded with rubies hung around his middle.

Dark brown hair framed his face, falling to his shoulders and a beard, neatly cut, ran along his jaw line and around his mouth. With a strong jaw, strait nose and dark blue eyes under heavy eyebrows Watharen, like his son, could easily be considered a handsome man… if not for the expression on his face. His mouth was set in a hard line that somehow managed to show contempt, cruelty and distaste all at once. His eyes reminded her of the submerged caves at sea, inky black and unfathomable.

But even without his facial features, any fool could see he was dangerous. A huge sword, almost as long as she was, leaned against his chair. Every movement was smooth and controlled, never out of place. His hands were callused and large, as was the rest of him, with massive, corded arms and a torso like that of an oak tree.

"For now."

She nodded. Even his voice was attractive, deep and rich, like a boom of thunder.

The last couple hours had been tough. She had argued for keeping the Ranger alive, while at the same time acting impassive and trying not to appear desperate. Hiding her emotions was one of the things she had had to master while growing up in her father's royal court, it was something all nobility had to learn. Now, more then ever before, she was grateful for that training.

Her last point was what had done the trick, but it was by far the most desperate gamble. She had told Watharen that as a King's Ranger their prisoner would know things that others would not. He would know the land, the best places to hide, the best places to ambush, information on the kings and the workings of the army, and certain leaders, mainly things that the band could use to gain in strength and riches. The problem was that she knew next to nothing about the Rangers and if anything of what she said had been false her bluff would have been revealed.

"However Chris, he is in your hands. Food and his containment are up to you. Furthermore you cannot leave the camp with him, you cannot release him for any length of time unless I say otherwise, and you must watch him. And if he should happen to escape, well, his execution will pass on to you."

He made no effort to cover the menace in his words.

She smiled grimly to herself as she gazed steadily at him. This was why she preferred dealing with Watharen rather than Leven. Watharen scared her but he was strait forward, blunt, and did not mince his words. Leven on the other hand was as slippery as and eel. Watharen was by far more dangerous but she could anticipate and understand his thought more than she could Leven's.

Watharen was not an idiot though. Gazing into his fathomless eyes she knew that she had not fooled him. He knew that she did not want them to kill that Ranger and it was not for the good of the band. He had known from the beginning that she was someone to be reckoned with, someone to be watched closely.

Someone who he couldn't trust but that he could use.

"As you wish, my lord," she said softly, bowing.
"And when you leave the camp, Leven or one of his men will watch him while your gone."

Christiana nodded though she swore violently in her mind. This was why he was humoring her; this was why he was letting the Ranger live. Because he knew that she was aware that if she were to flee Leven would be free to do as he pleased with the Ranger. She wouldn't leave, she couldn't.

It had been a trap, and she had fallen right into it. Watharen might not be as sneaky as his son, but he was just as cunning.

"You may go. I believe you have business to take care of."

She bowed once more and exited.

As she stormed through the camp she fought the urge to scream in frustration. Watharen understood her far too well. He was taking her very nature and using it against her. He had used the same tactic when she had first learned what he was up to. He had agreed to order his men to not kill unnecessarily if she were to follow his orders. By staying she had been preventing more deaths.

Now he yet another chain to bind her here.

Cursing under her breath she hurried to the tent where the Ranger was being held.

You had better watch your back, Watharen, she snarled to herself. Because I will not rest until you and all these blasted Raven's are stopped. I swear on the bones of Airic, I will not rest until you are punished for the crimes that you have committed and for the lives you have destroyed.

"How long are we going to put up with that little wretch?" Leven snarled a few minutes later. "He is more trouble then he is worth."

Watharen pulled off his cape, draping it over the back of his chair.

"On the contrary," Watharen said evenly. "Chris has been of great assistance. His intelligence and skill surpasses that of many of the men in camp combined."

"He is a boy," Leven snarled.

Watharen turned to stare coolly at his son. "As are you."

Leven flushed.

"Yes Chris is young, though how young even I cannot guess. He is small but he acts with an aptitude beyond his years."

Leven snorted. "Indeed, but that does not answer my question. For how much longer are we going to keep him around? In fact why did you let him in the first place?"

Watharen shrugged. "I hoped I could convince him to see our side of things after a time. I have failed in that area but I can control him."

"He's dangerous. He could find out our secret. I think it is the exact thing he has been looking for. We can't keep him around for much longer. If he finds out who you are he will use it against us. It is what he has been waiting for," Leven argued.

"Your may be right, but we can tolerate him for a little while longer. This Ranger will make him reluctant to do anything to ambitious, and gives us another tool to use against him. Besides I believe we are not the only one's keeping secrets."

Leven remained silent for a moment. "Chris is full of secrets, which is why he is dangerous. We have no idea where he came from, how he got the skills he has and we know little of what he is planning."

Leven clamped his mouth shut as his father's eyes flashed with anger. "I have already agreed that the boy is dangerous, Leven! Stop parroting the fact," he snapped.

The young man nodded, for a moment, in his own anger, he had forgotten his father's notorious rage.

Watharen glared for a moment before waving his hand as if brushing away cobwebs.

"Besides what you have stated I feel there is something more. I want you to watch him and find out what it is. It is your area of expertise, after all."

Leven bowed. "Yes father."

"Now go. I have other matters to attend to."

Leven bowed once more and excited the tent.

Christiana clamped the last shackle on the Ranger's wrist. A heavy chain snakes to an identical one on his other wrist. Similar restraints chained his ankles together and a stronger one connected that chain to a post where it was locked in place.

He shook the chains, making them rattle.

"A little over done, don't you think?"

She shrugged. "You Ranger's have a high reputation. Some of the men speculate whether chains will hold you at all."

He raised an eyebrow. "But you do not?"

She smiled slightly. "I have not grown up with tales of your deeds, Ranger. Neither am I superstitious."

She picked up the pile of weapons and items that had been taken from him and brought them to her tent nearby. Taking a key from the chain around her neck she opened a chest at the foot of her cot and carefully placed his things inside. Her hand lingered on the strange multi-colored cloak. In the dim light it seemed to shimmer and blur before her eyes. Shaking her head she placed it with the rest, she would have time to examine it later. The bow was far too long to fit so she unstrung it and placed it under her cot.

As she walked out of the tent she saw several of the men crowding nearby, staring at the ranger. For a while the chained man did nothing then he suddenly lunged at them shouting: "Ahhhh."

The men jumped and scrambled away, hurrying back to their tasks.

She stifled a laugh.

"Bright men you have here," he said mockingly as she neared.

She grinned. "About as bright as a donkey and as sharp as the rear end of one, too."

He snorted. "All muscle except between the ears."

"Indeed, but then again those are the only kind of men who would get caught up in this," she murmured, more to herself then to the Ranger.

He looked over in surprise as he heard the bitterness in her voice. She did not meet his inquiring gaze and left.

Later that night she set up a simple shelter nearby with pine boughs, putting a few blankets and hides inside.

"It is not much but it will do for now."

He grimaced. "You will not need it up for long. I am likely to get my throat slit before long."

For a moment she was unable to stop the alarm from showing on her face, and then it faded.

"No. Watharen wants you alive for now. None of the men dare challenge his authority."

She brought supper for them both and ate nearby, ignoring it when she felt his calculating gaze.

For a long time after that she sat by one of the fires. Contemplating what had happened that day. Shame and self-loathing threatened to overwhelm her as she stared into the flames. She felt so powerless. There had to be something she could do but she was not clever enough to see it.

She might have released him and together they could have crept away but she had seen a few of Leven's men throughout the day and she had no doubt they were watching her now. They were specially handpicked men from the band, each having and individual skill. One man was an expert swords men, another an assassin, another was a pick pocket, various skills that Leven could use. They called the Renegades by the rest of the men because they were likely to turn on anyone to gain favor in Leven's or Watharen's eyes.

She sighed and looked up at the stars.

What would you do, Airic? I have to put an end to this, but how?

There was no answer. With a sigh she stood up, brushing off the back of her breeches and retreated into her tent.

Little did she know that fate was beginning to stretch forth its hand. It would not be long before she would have to make a choice, a choice that would affect the rest of her life.

Sorry that this one took a little longer. I didn't have as much free time as I would like this week. Thanks, you readers who have read it from the beginning and putting my story on Story Alert. I makes me smile knowing someone is enjoying it as much as I am :). If you have your own stories please mention them in your review and where I can find them, I would love to read your work. Once again please review so I know that someone read it and/or there is something I can improve on.