A/N: Warning - This chapter contains violence and will be the last with the rating 'T'.
When chapter 39 is ready the rating on Arranged Marriage will change to 'M' due to the progress of the plot.
Proof read by Danaye
Chapter 38
Daine's eyes slowly glided over the dagger she had left behind in the storage-room to the man that stood a head taller than the crown prince. His frame, and the way he leaned slightly onto his right foot, told her that this was one of the shadows who had been observing her in the forest.
His shabby dirty-blond hair was unkempt and matched his ragged clothes, which were unmistakably some garments from a discharged soldier. She could only conclude that the garments weren't his, as they fit him rather poorly. He was likely some random man from the streets — but what would a man like him gain from killing the heir to the throne?
He wasn't after money, as she could still see the heavy purse filled with gold hanging from Roald's belt. Nevertheless, she wanted to test the theory. Maybe he wanted more money than what the prince carried on him.
"If you are after gold," Daine said slowly, "it will only take me a moment to fetch some more." She waited in the tense silence as the man pressed the blade upwards, forcing Roald to unwillingly lift his chin.
"No gold can help me now," the man said, his voice ragged with effort, "but you can say goodbye to the prince..."
Daine wasn't stupid. She could tell by the way he was standing and by the small pearls of sweat lingering on his lightly tanned forehead that this man was dying of sickness. This meant that he had nothing to lose. Desperate to stall him, she crept forward. "The palace has excellent healers," she managed, forcing the words out between her teeth. She didn't know any of them of course, and she doubted that the Lioness was around since Numair was nowhere to be found. "I'm sure there is someone who can help you and..."
"No healer will help a man condemned by the gods..." He coughed and his body shook fiercely. His fit only maneuvered the knife further up, forcing Roald to raise his chin even higher. The Crown Prince was unusually silent and Daine suddenly understood the reason why. He was waiting for a distraction — a distraction that would need to come from her.
With her heart pounding heavily inside her chest, Daine shifted lightly on her feet. She brought her hands up in surrender while taking a small step forth. "You don't have to do this," she whispered quietly, tossing out a mental call for the only rescuer she could think of. He hurriedly ran towards the stable, with a broken tail lifted high up in the air.
The man laughed, a rough sound that ended in another coughing fit. The man relaxed the pressure of the knife a little, just enough for Roald to get his arm up and push away the hand that held the blade. Stepping on the man's foot, causing him to yelp in pain, Roald swung around and landed a precisely aimed punch to the temple of the man's head.
The sound of metal clinked on the floor as the man staggered forward. Roald moved out of the way, trying to avoid further harm.
Daine realized with fright that the sick man was now coming towards her. She backed away, entering the stall where she had left the wounded stallion. Preparing herself for the impact of the man's body, she failed to notice the other man that strode out of the shadows of the stable. He picked the dropped knife and, with a surprising proficiency, slammed the end of the handle into the unsuspecting prince's head.
Daine gasped as the unconscious man was suddenly pushed to the side by a large black head, leaving her to fall down into the soft straw.
She stared with wide eyes as the stallion embedded his teeth into the man's uniform and dragged him into the stall. Once the man was placed, the horse turned and 'accidentally' stepped on the man's head, forcing out a breaking sound.
Daine pushed herself up off the ground, not caring that straw was tangled into her hair. She came to a stand, finding herself looking into the bluest eyes she had ever seen. Her heart dropped — a Scanran. The other man had been Tortallan, but what about the third? Had she hallucinated, convincing herself that there was another person?
Picking up the unconscious body of the crown prince, the man flashed white teeth in a sneering grin. "This should be amusing," he said, his cold blue eyes peering down at the young man hanging limp within his arms. Raising the dagger, he placed the blade back at Roald's throat. "Maybe it's time for the king to realize that he can't continue ignoring the threat from the North..."
Daine watched helplessly as the skin of Roald's neck was slowly broken. Suddenly, she jumped forward, "Let me do it." The knife's movement stopped as the words left her lips, surprising even herself. The man looked at her with a skeptical gaze.
"Nay," he replied, looking back down at Roald. Small streams of blood rushed forth as the knife glided deeper into his throat.
"Please," Daine begged. She continued to distract him as an ugly dog, with one ear hanging, came into her line of vision. "You can't deny me revenge..." she pleaded in distress.
The man stopped, "Revenge?"
She nodded, grasping at the lie, "They took me from my home, they bought me..." She hesitated. Well, they did, Daine thought a bit angrily. However, if this could save the heir, she would do it. Taking a courageous step forth, she lifted up the palm of her hand, "Please, if you want to punish him, let me be the one to do it. Let me be the one to teach them a lesson about not bringing an unknown girl into their inner circle."
Cold blue eyes looked at her in suspicion, "How can I trust ye?"
Daine shrugged as she reached him, "How can I trust you? I want revenge. The man they married me to is an imbecile." She continued the lie through gritted teeth, "Have you seen the people living here? They are promiscuous and the first thing my so-called husband did was this." She allowed him to see the inside of her palm where Numair had cut the skin, "On our wedding night, when I didn't comply with his wishes, he cut me!"
As the Scanran examined the reddish scar tissue, Daine made eye-contract with the dog. Get Keladry! As the dog turned, a horse neighed. The man snapped his head towards the sound, but Daine placed her hand on the side of the man's face, preventing him from spotting the dog as he fled.
Cold eyes found her own and Daine smiled sweetly, fluttering her eyelashes, "I'm sure that a man like you can please a woman better then my impotent husband."
She was grasping anything she could think of. For a few seconds, she became uncertain, not sure that he would take her bait. Then, finally, he leaned into her hand and dropped the crown prince to the floor with a loud thud.
Seeing a lustful glint entering his eyes, Daine allowed him to grab her and pull her against him roughly. Blinking innocently and maiden-like, she slid her hand up over the hard muscles of his chest to rest at the nape of his neck.
Pressing herself against him, he growled low as she came in contact with the hardness of his body. "I see," she whispered low, trailing the finger of her other hand over his lower lip, opening his mouth. On the inside, her heart was about to burst with horror over her own actions.
Just as suddenly as he had grabbed her, his mouth was on hers, but Daine pushed him away. She tried to make her breathing resemble passion and not fright. She was used to the way a man like this thought, and he was clearly thinking with something that poked her stomach. "Not so fast," she said, making sure to lick her bruised lips, distracting him from his rising anger, "you still owe me revenge."
The man laughed and narrowed his eyes, grabbing the back of her head. As he forced her head back, Daine gasped. He dropped his eyes down towards her exposed neck, "Ye will give yerself to me after he's dead..." Hot air caressed her skin and Daine inhaled sharply as his lips bit down into her skin.
"Yes," she forced out quietly, but he didn't hear her and he yanked on her hair harder.
"I didn't hear ye," he rasped in her ear.
Daine swallowed hard, "Yes…"
"Good." The hold on her hair was released and Daine dropped down to where Roald lay. Grabbing his clothes, she dragged him back into the stall. He was still alive — the wound in his throat wasn't as deep as the blood made it seem. Dropping him down, Daine kicked him in the stomach just to make the act realistic.
She turned back to the Scanran man, holding out her hand. With her palm up, she met his eyes, "Give me the knife and I will end his life."
The man carefully dropped the warm handle down into her outstretched hand with a hiss, "Do that or I'll be the one killing ye."
Daine nodded and turned around to face the unconscious body of the prince. She hesitated slightly.
"Get going wench. My bed is calling — or do ye prefer to spread yer legs in the straw?"
She didn't answer him. Such a question didn't deserve an answer. Concentrating on the prince in front of her, her fingers gripped the handle of the dagger. With her knuckles white as snow, she lifted up the jeweled dagger and reached for Roald's throat.
She could feel the man lingering behind her, waiting for her to take the prince's life. Just as she had the knife only millimeters from the skin, she pulled her arm back and embedded the blade of the knife down into the muscle of Roald's thigh.
A rush of black feathers caused every bystander to duck their head. The house in front was barely standing, its shutters askew after the third explosion. The crowd only stood there, frozen and baffled over the fact that long tentacles of green magic were upholding the structure of the house.
The men and the single woman who had entered the house hadn't come out of it again. Those who stood, staring at the magically upheld house, speculated over the possibility that the people were no longer alive.
As they continued to stare, another rush of black feathers flew over their heads and they ducked automatically. Some of them cursed, while others only gaped at the bird overhead. The bird was larger than a normal hawk. Suddenly, the green tentacles magnified, growing larger and expanding, blocking every entry to the house.
The crowd's attention was divided between the magic as it expanded and the predatory bird in the middle of the town. A hawk didn't belong in a place like this, it was a bird that sought wide open fields of land, not areas where houses stood leaning up against each other and people crowded the streets.
Suddenly, one boy ducked his head as the hawk stretched out its soft yellows legs towards the ground and landed rather disgracefully. Any hawk would land with precision, but not this hawk. As it wobbled back and forth to regain some balance, the crowd backed away. They were scared of the wide wingspan and the blackness of the feathers. Instead of the feathers being a mix of light brown and grey, they were the exact shade of the midnight sky.
"Do you think that the gods have decided to descend upon us? That's no ordinary bird," an older man whispered to the man standing next to him, but the man only shook his head.
"Nay, the only god that would make such an entrance is The Trickster God and he favors only crows. Unless I'm mistaken, that is surely a hawk..." As the last word left his lips, the crowd took a step back as surprised exclamations sounded through the air.
In front of them, the hawk's body suddenly yanked in convulsions and long black tentacles twisted and turned around the frame of the bird.
The tension caused by the eruption of the house had decreased, but another type of tension was taking over. The crowd looked on, some of them screaming and making signs to the gods, as the bird's frame expanded in length. A small light suddenly flashed through the air, forcing the people that stood near to cover their eyes.
Once the flash had ended and everyone could see again, they stood facing what seemed to be an unearthly and abnormal black wall. The crowd couldn't even see through to the other side.
The massiveness of the magic being used caused those with the same ability to curse loudly and wipe the skin underneath their noses — finding blood slowly rolling down over the skin towards their lips.
One girl, her hands shaking from shock at the sight of her blood, screamed as a face formed from the black wall. The face was scary, but almost human. The detail was remarkable and surreal from the day-old stubble that was shown on the otherwise smooth skin to the empty black eyes and the slightly crooked nose.
The face smiled sadly, almost apologetically, as if considering its actions and knowing that it had frightened the crowd witless.
The crowd shifted uneasily, beginning to make small-talk and conversation about the strange phenomenon. However, everyone became quiet as the black lips on the nameless face suddenly parted. The crowd froze as a hoarse, whispering voice came out from those unearthly lips, "Those of you who want to live the rest of your life, please leave...but then again... "
The voice, dark in tone, hesitated for a few seconds before continuing. There was a bit of amusement lacing the words, and the crowd drew near the black wall that kept them from the house and the green tentacles, "Those of you who want to risk your life, please stay. Though I can't guarantee that you will live to see the light of tomorrow's sun."
As the last word was said, almost everyone turned on their heels and ran. Some began shouting that the Black God had shown himself to them. Those who didn't follow the scared people, stayed only to stare with their open mouths at the alarming face in front of them. There was a deathly silence, until the face broke it with a dark exclamation.
"Boo!"