Chapter Twelve

A forest teeming with Needleleaf locusts drills into my eardrums with a low pitched whine. Horse hooves clop along on an uneven cobblestone road as my body bounces and sways on a hard surface in the dark. Cold air seeps in all around me and I sigh. I don't want to open my eyes and confirm that I'm still alive, but I do so anyways. At this point, I don't even think I'm allowed to die.

A stained white cover stretches across six wooden bows above my head, enclosing a glowing timber wagon. An aura warm as honey flickers from an oil lantern sitting atop a crate. The rickety caravan is lightly packed with cargo and I'm propped upright in the back right corner wearing my same black tank top, a black jacket and jeans. An IV needle held in place by tape lies jammed into my hand and a thin feeding tube irritates my nostrils and throat. My muscles and joints are stiff as a board and it feels like I haven't used them in ages. Based on the weather and my physical state of affairs, I'd say I've been out for quite a while.

I consider hobbling out the rear of the wagon, but unfortunately, that's not an option. We're toting precious cargo that I can't simply abandon and I'm not alone back here. The captain sits a few feet away from me, balanced against one of the bows on the opposite side. The lamplight deepens the freckles dusted across her cheeks and it brightens the strawberry hue of her long, thin dreadlocks. Her striking aquamarine irises gaze out into the darkness that trails the caravan, all the while using my knife to carve up an apple slice by slice.

I growl under my breath and narrow my eyes at her. Clearly she knows nothing about the material my dagger stems from.

"If you keep using that blade for ridiculous culinary purposes, the acidity from the fruit is going to eat away at the obsidian," I snap. She glances over at me, a grin tugging at her full lips.

"Guess it's a good thing this isn't my knife then," she answers, taking another crunchy bite of the fruit. She settles into her seated position a little more, casually exhaling. "Well, I'm glad to see you're awake. I was hoping I didn't waste a shitload of resources keeping you alive for no reason."

I huff sarcastically. "It would've been smarter if you let me die."

I lean in her direction only to be met with resistance. I'm chained to the bottom of the wagon at my waist, and my wrists and ankles are shackled in a high tech electrical lock that can only be opened by one specific remote. Her employer must pay a hefty salary for her to afford or even access this kind of distant technology. Even breaking these cuffs is damn near impossible. I've tried many times before and never succeeded, so even if I did escape, my wrists would be bound with no way to liberate myself. I'm stuck with her until the opportune moment strikes.

The captain points at my bindings with the tip of my knife. "Yeah, after your little fiasco on my ship…or what's left of it, I guess…I thought it'd be wise to keep you under a tighter lock and key."

I roll my eyes and reach my hands up, pulling the annoying feeding tube from my nostril. My eyes water as it slides up my esophagus and out my nose. I toss it to the ground and wiggle my rigid body around to get my blood flowing. Something rolls across the floor in my direction, stopping when it bumps into my foot. A bright green apple awaits a decision at my feet; I either eat it to quench my hunger, or I throw it in her face to make a point.

"Don't be stubborn and forgo the food. It's been three weeks since you've had a legitimate meal and I don't need you dying before I collect the bounty on your head from Reign." I close my eyes and snicker, snatching the apple up in my palm to take a bite.

Of course he's the one paying her commissions.

So, not only am I on a direct path to the most prevalent sociopath in Saros, I'll be arriving sooner rather than later. Three weeks gives me a pretty good idea where we're situated on a planetary scale. My proximity to Nero is closer than I ever thought I'd be again, and far enough from any legitimate body of water that channeling my oceanic inclinations is impossible. Even if I am trained for combat on a militant degree, taking down an army single handedly is nonviable.

I roll my neck around and lean my head back. "Let me guess," I sigh, "We've already passed through the checkpoint in Talis, made it up the Gysis canal, disembarked at the port of Prysm, and now we're only a stone's throw from Nexus."

"Bingo," she smirks. I grit my teeth before biting into the apple.

I'll need all the strength I can get before we reach Nero, so I'd better play it smart from now on. I'm not mentally or physically prepared to set foot in that landlocked hellhole for more reason than one. I've been incapacitated too long and my mind is all around hazy, but even before I was drugged into a coma for three weeks, I wasn't ready. The thought of revisiting the nightmarish grounds I once called home sickens me. I hated that fucking place then, and I can guarantee I'll hate it even more now.

Fortunately, there is one thing that brings me relative peace, and that's the tiny sliver of gratification that I'll be coming face to face with Reign.

For nearly two hundred years, I've stewed in a vile pit of animosity as black and thick as tar. I've allowed time to stoke the fire and brimstone of my contempt. I grin as I chew on the crunchy, tart fruit, concocting a picturesque scenario in my mind.

I envision muscles tensing underneath his caramel skin and how every punch he tries to land against me will hit nothing but air. His angered glower and bared teeth fill me with a sense of smug satisfaction. Oh how I'll enjoy knocking those pearly whites right down his throat with my fist. After a few blows on my end, his own bloody teeth will clog his airway, and I'll laugh. As I stand over him, that manipulative, hazel gaze clouds with a fear of death I recognize in him far too well. Even looking down at him sends rage boiling through my blood, vaporizing in my pores as soon as it skims the surface. I jam my thumbs into his eye sockets to stop the overwhelming sense of agony in my chest. I don't want to drown in the deceit of his stare any longer. I gouge out both of the corrupt, fleshy orbs with sick pleasure, savoring the priceless screams of pain that I've spent two centuries longing for. I take my bloody hand and wrench the sapphire engraved katana from his disgusting palm; he's unworthy of wielding this weapon, he always has been. I finally put his blade to good use and behead him with it as he lies on the floor. Then, I carry what's left of him into the center of Nero's town square and put his pathetic, lifeless head on a spike so all of Saros can revel in the joy of his long awaited death. People will travel from distant corners of the planet just to witness the joyous occasion firsthand. Parties will be thrown, wine and ale will flow like a river for weeks thereafter. A high price will be paid with his death, but it's a sacrifice that must be made. Through necessary loss, everyone on Saros can finally be free.

I dreamily sigh, taking another bite of my apple. Everything about my daydream is highly unlikely, but it's the ideal end game in my mind. That fantasy will serve as one of my main driving factors in the coming weeks because it has to. Given the cargo we're carting straight to Reign's doorstep, I know the outcome if I fail to make that vision become a reality.

I certainly don't want to be in Nero, but oh do I want to see Reign burn.