Betrayed: Ruby's Story (Destined Book 4) Page 8

  “Huh.” Lucien studied me for a moment. Then he shrugged. “He’s got his own problems, anyway. My clan controls his top—” He broke off mid-sentence.

  I swung around to face him. “Controls his what?” My stomach twisted as I thought of the Rat King, boasting that he controlled Asylia’s guards with aurae. “What, Lucien?”

  When he met my eyes, his expression was hard as flint. “That one’s on you.”

  I swallowed. “You’re not playing fair.”

  “You wanted to learn how to survive in my city, didn’t you? Here’s your first lesson. In Draicia, nothing is ever fair.”

  Chapter 10

  We slept at the entrance to the cave. When Lucien shook me awake, the sky was light, but an icy wind whipped through the trees.

  “This is nothing like yesterday’s heat,” I said to Lucien’s deliciously muscular back as we hiked up yet another tree-covered hill. The weather was chilly, but Lucien’s pack—which held both his gear and mine—must have been heavy, because he’d removed his outer layer, giving me the kind of eye-catching view of broad shoulders and strong arms not usually seen in Asylia.

  He grunted and kept walking.

  “It will probably be a cold winter, don’t you think? The way this weather has been so volatile.”

  Silence.

  “What are winters like in Draicia, anyway? I’ve heard you get more snow than we do in Asylia.”

  The muscles in his arms bunched and extended as he shoved a branch aside, then held it while I walked past.

  “Thank you, Lucien.” I smiled warmly as he released the branch and brushed past me.

  No response.

  I adjusted my pack straps and sighed as he resumed hiking. If I’d smiled like that for Sebastian, he probably would have dropped to his knees and begged to court me then and there.

  Not that I wanted Lucien to court me. “You’re crazy,” I whispered under my breath, then shook my head. The lack of sleep must have weakened the rational part of my brain, the part that was supposed to keep me from trying to flirt with dangerous, taciturn criminals.

  “I’m not crazy,” Lucien grumbled without turning around.

  I felt my face flush. “Oh, I didn’t …” I’d been trying to make conversation for the better part of an hour, and only now did he decide to listen? What timing. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say that.”

  He grunted. “Sure.”

  The slope steepened. The only sounds were the crunch of dry pine needles under our feet and my embarrassingly loud, heavy breathing.

  Finally, the ground leveled out, and I managed to catch my breath. Lucien slowed and allowed me to draw alongside him.

  I shot him a glance, but he kept his eyes forward. “My father used to take me out here,” he said quietly.

  An odd flutter stirred in my chest. “He did? All the way from Draicia?”

  Lucien nodded. “Every Wolf must journey in the Badlands once a year. It’s clan law.” He paused for a moment. “The best Wolves bring home a fresh wolf pelt each time.”

  How strange. I tucked a loose curl of hair behind my ear. “Why?”

  He shoved another branch out of our way and held it until I was past. “To prove we aren’t soft and weak, like you Asylians.”

  I couldn’t hold back a sudden snort of laughter.

  Lucien frowned. “Not so loud.”

  I giggled again, this time managing to keep quieter. “We’re not that soft.”

  He shot me a skeptical glance. “You’re pretty soft.”

  I rubbed the back of my neck and looked away. I had to stop noticing how handsome he looked when he raised one eyebrow like that. “Just because I don’t know how to survive alone in the Badlands doesn’t mean I’m soft. Besides, I’ve been outside Asylia for three whole days already, and I haven’t turned back, have I?”

  “Three days, huh?” His beard twitched. “I take it back. You’re ferocious.”

  “And don’t forget how I escaped those Badlanders by falling down on the rocks. That was quite crafty.”

  “How could I for—” He broke off mid-sentence. His hand shot out and slammed into my stomach, forcing me to stop walking, as he had. A flicker of fear darted across his face before he schooled his features.

  “What? What’s wrong?”

  He shook his head and shoved his hand over my mouth, then he pushed me back against the nearest tree trunk so brusquely my cheek scraped against the dry, spindly branches. My heart began to pound.

  I pushed against him, but he didn't budge. He ignored me, as if I wasn't even there. His eyes were on the forest around us.

  Then I heard it—a swishing, like branches being pushed out of the way, and the distant rumble of voices. Badlanders again?

  “Don’t move,” Lucien hissed in my ear, so quietly I barely heard him. “Don’t make a sound. No matter what.” He squeezed my shoulder once, released me, and stepped back.

  I met his eyes, a thousand questions on the tip of my tongue.

  He shook his head, his expression hard, like he could force me to be silent by the sheer strength of his frustration. “Quiet,” he mouthed.

  He stepped away from the tree and stood several feet away behind another tree, his hand on the hilt of his knife.

  The Badlanders drew closer. Branches rustled. Footsteps crunched in the pine needles just as ours had. They weren’t even trying to be quiet. That was good, right? That they weren’t sneaking up on us?

  I peered at Lucien, but he wouldn’t look my way. Would he draw them away, as he had last time? I didn’t dare hope that we would be so lucky again.

  The low voices grew more distinct. Any minute now, they would be in view of my tree. I pressed my back against the rough bark and made my body as narrow as I could.

  “Over here,” one man said. “I heard something. Got to be Sidon.”

  “Nobody here,” grumbled another. “He’s still hiding, the rat-faced coward.”

  “But I swear I heard something. It was right over here.”

  I held my breath. What was Lucien doing, allowing them to come so close to us?

  The next voice was so close it sounded like the man was within arm’s reach. “Let me just check over here first, would you?”

  I started so violently the twigs beneath my feet snapped. He must have been just on the other side of my tree.

  Lucien scowled, but it was too late for a warning.

  The men went silent.

  Lucien shifted his grip on his knife and met my eyes for the first time since we’d heard the Badlanders approaching. I held my breath, unable to look away from his questioning gaze.

  Lucien shook his head. What was he denying?

  Then he broke eye contact and stepped out from behind the tree.

  For a long breath, no one spoke. Only the autumn wind rushing through the dry trees broke the uncomfortable silence.

  “We mean no trouble, Wolf,” a man finally said, his voice low and tense.

  I watched Lucien from the corner of my eye. He didn’t reply. He didn’t even move.

  “No trouble,” another man echoed. “We didn’t realize you were still out here. Apologies for the disturbance.”

  There was a shuffling noise, as though they were retreating.

  “On a hunt.” Lucien’s voice was quiet, but the rustling stilled, as though the men were afraid to move. “You’re making too much noise. Scaring off my game.”

  “We’ll stay out of your way,” the first man said. “Won’t bother you again.”

  “See that you don’t.”

  More rustling. I huddled behind the tree, afraid to move as the Badlanders’ footsteps faded in the distance. When I could hear them no longer, I started to move, but Lucien signaled me with a shake of his head. I froze.

  He came up to my tree and stopped a hand’s breadth away from me. “You’ll travel alone from now on,” he whispered, his heavy-lidded gaze impossible to read. “I can’t risk being seen with you. You’ll ruin everything.”

 
; I felt the color drain from my face. “But how—”

  “I’ll find you at night,” he growled. “Stay quiet. Keep moving. Stay out of trouble. I won’t intervene again. There’s too much at stake.”

  And with that, he strode away. I stepped out from behind the tree in time to see his broad shoulders disappear into the forest.

  Not the most attractive view, after all.

  Chapter 11

  I gripped the straps of my pack and plodded in the direction we had been heading all day. The sun never came out from behind the clouds, and as I walked, the air grew ever colder.

  How could Lucien leave me behind so abruptly? I’d been making such progress with him! He’d told me about his father and his plan for the Wolf clan. He’d even been on the verge of joking with me. And not ten minutes later, he’d dropped me like a hot iron.

  My legs burned, and my mouth was dry from thirst. But I was too frightened to stop for a rest. Besides, what good would it do to take a break? Lucien had my water and my victus, and if the Badlanders found me a third time …

  I shook my head and pressed my lips together. I just had to make sure they didn’t.

  You’ll ruin everything. Perhaps he blamed me for laughing too loudly and alerting the Badlanders to our presence.

  I thought of Grandmother squeezing my shoulder when we said good-bye in Asylia. You’re talented, but too easily distracted. I huffed out a breath and picked up my pace, annoyance giving me a boost of energy. How could I possibly have known that the Badlanders were within earshot again?

  I was distracted—true enough. Distracted by expressive eyes, impressive shoulders, and a man more compelling than a hundred Sebastians in Asylia. Too bad Lucien thought nothing of abandoning me to violent Badlanders if it was best for his cause. As always, it seemed I was the only one with romance on the mind. Would I ever stop embarrassing myself? Why was I so poorly suited to the rigor and bleakness of real life, compared to everyone else I met?

  Except, perhaps, Mage Fortis, I reminded myself, comforted for a moment by the thought of her joyful smiles and bright, gold-sparkling art studio. At least she appreciated my frivolity. And if I could just finish this job and expose the source of aurae so we could cut it off from Asylia completely, I could leave the Herald behind without guilt. Mage Fortis was waiting for me. I couldn’t lose heart now, no matter how my pride was smarting from Lucien’s brusque dismissal.

  The faster pace warmed me, even as the wind chilled my cheeks and ears. I kept my eyes on my feet and focused on navigating the rough ground as quietly as possible. The challenge of it helped keep my mind from the one question that had been prodding at me insistently since Lucien had left—if even dangerous Badlanders feared the members of the Wolf clan, what hope did I have?

  ~

  Lucien shook me awake. I couldn’t tell what time of night it was, but I felt as though I had just closed my eyes. “What do you want?” My voice was scratchy. I rubbed my eyes and struggled into a sitting position, my back aching from the rough ground.

  The sky was heavy with clouds. I could barely see his face as he loomed over me.

  “Why were you sleeping?” His voice was low and grumpy. As usual. “You should’ve waited for me. Anyone could’ve snuck up on you just now.”

  Because I am utterly and completely exhausted. “I’m sorry,” I mumbled. “Can I go back to sleep now?”

  Lucien tossed his pack to the ground beside me and sat beside it. “No.”

  I huddled in my thick jacket and scowled. “Then can I please have my victus and water?”

  He grabbed his pack then paused. “What happened to the jerky I gave you?”

  “Um … I ate it.”

  Lucien raised an eyebrow. “Already?”

  “It was barely two mouthfuls! How long did you expect it to last?”

  “Hm.” He pulled the water canteen from his pack and passed it to me. “Second lesson.”

  I took several long gulps from the canteen, then I wiped my mouth with my sleeve. “Yes? Second lesson?”

  “In Draicia, hunger is not an emergency.”

  I clutched the water tightly in case he tried to take it back. “That’s ridiculous. The body needs food to survive.”

  Lucien settled his pack against a fallen log, leaned back against it, and folded his arms behind his head with all the ease of a prince settling into his throne. “Not right away.”

  “But … that’s … how can …” I sputtered. “Of course you do.”

  He shook his head. “No. You don’t. You can go weeks without a meal. It’s not easy. But you can do it.”

  My sleep-fuzzy brain was having trouble making sense of this late-night lesson of his. “But why would you? Ever? Especially when victus exists?”

  Lucien tilted his head back and looked up at the cloudy night sky. “Third lesson. In Draicia, need makes you weak. The best way to protect yourself in my city will be to need nothing.”

  I rubbed my eyes and bent my knees, then I wrapped my arms around my legs. “I suppose that makes sense. But what does that have to do with hunger?” And will you please just stop talking and give me my victus?

  He speared me with a frustrated look. “If you obsess over your hunger, you will do anything in order to eat. Foolish things. Dangerous things. You will be vulnerable and exploitable. Teach yourself to master hunger so you won’t be ruled by it. You can wait and find food when it is safe.”

  “How do you know I’m going to be hungry in Draicia?”

  Lucien rubbed his temple. “I’ve seen the city chew up and spit out hard, violent men, Ruby. You will be fortunate if hunger is the worst you experience there.” He studied me for a moment, an odd look on his face. “Until now … until I led you into the Badlands, had you ever been hungry before?”

  I bit my lip and thought back to my childhood—the warm, cozy memories of family life before the plague, then the years of following dutifully after Grandmother as she interviewed sources and ran the Herald. Grandmother and I had eaten victus for breakfast, lunch, and dinner during the worst years of the plague, just like every other commoner. It hadn’t been pleasant, and I’d certainly known moments of hunger. “Not in the way that you’re describing. No. I have not.”

  The odd look remained on his face for a moment, then it disappeared, replaced by his normal, bored expression. “I see.”

  I didn’t know what to make of that tone. “Well, have you ever been truly hungry?”

  He shifted. “Of course.”

  “But I thought you were highly ranked in your clan. Don’t you have plenty to eat?”

  “Yes.”

  I waited and tried to look patient, like I didn’t mind waiting for the continent’s least talkative source to get around to explaining himself.

  He raised an eyebrow and released a breath that was almost—almost—a laugh. “My father and I would journey in the Badlands together every year when I was a boy. He taught me to survive out here. Sometimes, that meant hunting or trading with the Badlanders or scavenging. Other times … going hungry, and waiting for a better, smarter opportunity to eat.”

  Did he have any idea how much his voice had softened as he spoke of his father? The quiet warmth in his tone dulled the edge of anxiety that had been grating on me for days. “He was a good man, your father?”

  “The best.” Lucien dug in his pack for a moment, pulled out the canister of victus and a bowl and spoon, and handed them over. “Here.”

  I took them, urgency making me fumble. “I thought you said I was supposed to master my hunger.”

  He frowned and looked away. “You’ll have plenty of practice in Draicia.”

  I poured a bit of victus into the bowl then water—a practically dainty portion compared to the huge, filling bowl I really wanted. Lucien’s words about hunger had shaken me more than I wanted him to know. Had I been living a life of luxury in Asylia without realizing it?

  I thought of the countless mornings I’d spent with Mage Fortis, lounging comfortably on the
leather couches of the Falconus studio while planning out the week’s recording sessions. I’d always thought of myself as poor. And I was poor—compared to Mage Fortis and her colleagues. But their golden world of magic and art felt like it belonged to a different lifetime as I sat on this rocky ground, delighted by a cold bowl of victus, always keeping one ear out for the sound of approaching bandits and animals.

  How could two such wildly different experiences exist in the same life, on the same continent? I couldn’t make sense of it. And what did it mean that Lucien had grown up doing this, even as a child?

  “Ruby …”

  I stopped stirring when Lucien didn’t finish. “Yes?”

  “What do you get out of this? Tell me the truth.”

  I devoted my full attention to stirring my bowl of victus. “I told you. Liberty.”

  “That’s not an answer.”

  “Sure it is.” I took my first bite and grimaced. Disgusting, but filling. It was certainly better than the tiny morsels of jerky Lucien had told me to ration.

  “Fine. Liberty … from what?” Lucien’s tone was terse. “Is someone making you do this?”

  “No.” I forced down another gritty bite of victus before I finally met his eyes. “I’m here, aren’t I? What does it matter why I came?”

  Lucien’s nostrils flared. “I need to know if I can trust you.”

  He had to be the most paranoid man on the continent of Theros. I paused at the thought, my spoon halfway to my mouth. A gray dollop of victus dropped back into the bowl. Lucien had spent the past year preparing to bring down his own clan, the most powerful clan in Draicia, because they were responsible for the death of his father. Of course he would be paranoid. I should be seeking to do whatever I could to reassure him, not arguing with him about jerky rations.

  I placed a hand on his sleeve. “I’m sorry. You’re right.”

  “I’m right?” He frowned down at my hand, so I pulled it back.

  “You can trust me. Ask me whatever you want to know.”

  “Why are you out here?” he ground out. “I’ve asked you three times now. I’m ready for an answer.”

  I decided to start from the beginning. “I’ve been accompanying my grandmother to interviews since I was a child. She has been my guardian since I was small. The plague took most of our senior writers at the Herald, so when I was fifteen, I left school to write for her full time.”