He ties me to the saddle and sits behind me, as if he cannot bear to keep his body from mine, and then we ride for hours.
He sends out packs of riders in two different directions so, if anyone is tracking us, theyâll have to figure out which are the real ones and which are the dummy.
I havenât said a word.
I havenât uttered even a cry.
I feel mute. Numb. Hollow, just like before.
He nuzzles his face into my neck, relishing the smell of me, and I try to block it out, but it does no good. Just his presence alone fills me with fear, and he hasnât even hurt me yet.
We stop when we reach a camp, where more of his soldiers are sitting, waiting for us. I avoid their gazes. I avoid everyoneâs gazes. Itâs all I can do right now to keep my breath steady.
When he fucks me that night, I donât even respond. I donât even fight.
I just lie there, as if Iâm already dead, as if heâs already killed me, letting his disgusting body do what it wants, letting him grunt and moan as his sweat covers me.
And when heâs done, I turn my body away, curling up, praying he will just kill me and get it over with.
I donât think of Helos.
I donât think of wherever he is, if heâs fighting right now, if heâs realized his plan has failed, and if he knows Issar has me.
I donât think of anything.
I just lie there.
Mute.
Unresponsive.
Staring at the fabric of the sheet in front of me as it feels like everything inside me fades to nothing.
***
We reach a castle the next day. Itâs stark, desolate almost, against the landscape, and just the sight of it fills me with fear.
I donât know where we are, whose lands we are in, but something in my gut tells me this castle belongs to him, to Issar.
My stomach aches painfully. He hasnât let me eat or drink since heâs captured me, and I think heâs trying to weaken me, to break me down, though he doesnât realize itâs not going to work.
A siren can last much longer without food than a human can, though it doesnât take away the incessant hunger I still feel.
We ride in under the portcullis.
There are so many soldiers. So many men. And all of them are staring at me.
Even Issarâs presence canât fight the desire they have when they see my hair and realize what I am.
My heart is pounding in my chest, my blood is raging, and all I can smell is the arousal of all these men around me.
I donât know how Issar will keep them out, how he will keep me safe from them, and that thought alone fills me with more fear.
He dismounts, unties my legs, and yanks me from the saddle. Then he binds my wrists in front of me and uses them to drag me inside.
I expect him to take me to the dungeons, lock me up, shackle me just like he did before, but he doesnât. He drags me up the stairs with my feet stumbling on almost every step, and we come to stop outside a guarded door.
He opens the door, shoves me in, and slams it in my face.
I look around quickly. Itâs a room. A bedroom. I run to the window and yank back the curtains with my bound hands, but the whole space has bars, so thereâs no climbing out.
I look down and I can see the guardhouse far below and all the soldiers who traveled with us are standing around, seeing to the horses, busying themselves.
I look out and see nothing. Just a barren landscape sprawls beyond the walls.
I think Iâm in a tower, though I canât be sure.
I turn and walk around the room. Itâs small. Cramped. Thereâs little here beside the bed: a dressing table and the bathroom beyond. But then what else would Issar need?
I shudder, knowing that just letting him have me so easily last night was a mistake. That I should have fought him. That I should be fighting him.
I gave in. I gave up. I let my fear and my hopelessness take over.
I am determined not to let it happen again.
I donât care how much he hurts me, how much he tortures me, beats me, Iâm not going to just lie there and take it. Iâm going to fight.
And I know something else too. Helos is out there somewhere, and he isnât going to let Issar win like this. I know that as soon as he finds out Iâm gone, he will look for me, search for me, and he will fight for me.
I just need to be strong, stay strong, and survive whatever this monster plans to do.
The door opens and I flinch, turning to face the intruder, but I relax when I see itâs a maid.
She curtseys before laying a dress out on the bed and walks to the bathroom to run a bath.
âWhatâ¦,â I begin.
âLord Issar is having a feast. He wants you ready,â she says quietly.
I grit my teeth because of course he is. Heâs going to show me off, show everyone here that he has won.
I draw out a long breath. I donât want a bath. I donât want to be compliant, but something tells me it wonât be only me he hurts if I refuse.
I shake my head, walking into the bathroom, and let the maid wash me. I need to pick my battles, be strategic, but when I see the god-awful dress he wants me to wear, I shake my head.
âNot a chance,â I state.
Itâs just as bad as the old ones. I can see from the clingy material that this dress would leave nothing to the imagination.
âPlease,â she begs.
âNo,â I snap back.
I wonât do it. I wonât be forced to wear such a thing again.
I walk back into the bathroom and pull on my underwear and the old dress I wore when they captured me. Itâs grubby from all the riding, but at least it covers. At least, I am not exposed.
The door opens and I hear words being exchanged, and then a snarl. Itâs him, I realize. Heâs back. Heâs right here in my room.
He storms into the bathroom, yanking me out by arms, and throws me down onto the bed where his dress is laid out.
âPut it on,â he orders.
âNo,â I state.
He snarls louder. The maid makes a dash for it and runs out of the room, and I prepare myself for whatever violence is about to come.
He hits me right across the face before ripping my dress from me. I cry out, trying to cover myself. He then rips my underwear off too and throws it all into the fireplace, where I see it catch light.
âPut that dress on, or Iâll drag you down there naked for everyone to see.â
I gulp, shutting my eyes, hearing my breathing so loud and fast. I donât want to give in, to do as he says, but I also donât want him dragging me down there naked for them all to gawk at.
I shudder, grabbing the dress. I throw it on over my head. Itâs just as bad as I thought.
The straps that hold the back together are so tiny that theyâre practically non-existent.
The cleavage is so plunging I might as well not bother at all, and the skirt clings so tightly that Iâm certain every muscle, every curve of my ass is displayed.
He yanks me to my feet and appraises me as I shut my eyes.
I can see it, the desire, the lust in him.
âBetter,â he mutters before dragging me from the room.
***
I grip his wrist with my spare hand as his digs painfully into mine. I donât know how long it takes to get from my room to the Banqueting Hall, but it feels like forever.
Heâs walking so fast that itâs hard to keep up, and a few times, I stumble entirely and he snarls, yanking me back up only to continue at his absurd pace.
When we enter the room, I hear the noise fall to silence. I let my hair fall so that it covers my face and obscures my body as best as I can, though in truth, Iâm still very much exposed.
I donât know how many people are in here, but from the feel of all their gazes, there have to be at least a hundred men, if not more.
I can feel the power and authority radiating off Issar now. He feels victorious, and in a way, he is. He has won.
He has beaten Helos, outsmarted him, and now he is showing off his prize.
He walks into the hall past the tables filled with drink and surrounded by men, and he pulls me up the few steps to where the high table is. He then dumps me unceremoniously into the chair beside his.
I keep my eyes down. I donât want to see anyone in this moment. But I can feel it. Their fascination, their envy too.
Issar has a prize more valuable than gold, and I wonder how loyal these men are and what it would take for one of them to decide a taste of me would be worth the risk.
âLord Issar, I must say Iâm impressed,â a man beside him says.
Issar smirks back at him.
I glance across and realize he was on the Council. He was one of them, and yet he has sided with Issar, not Helos.
The man meets my gaze, running his eyes over me, and I look away, repulsed.
As if he can sense it, Issar places his hand on my thigh, running it slowly up from my knee, and I squirm, pushing against it with both my hands, but it doesnât have any effect.
Heâs too strong and his hand rests right at the top of my thigh with his fingers practically lying over my mound.
Servants begin bringing out food. Great trays laden with dishes that make my mouth water and remind me that I still havenât eaten a thing, but, when a servant goes to put food on my plate, Issar blocks him.
âShe can eat when she learns obedience,â he states and I glare at him.
He thankfully removes his hand from me and begins eating, and all the while, my stomach groans angrily as the delicious smell of everything around me fills my nose.
Iâm so hungry I want to cry, but I fight it back.
Iâm not going to show weakness. Iâm not going to show that heâs winning.
When the first course is done, servants bring out the main, and it smells even better. Great roasted swans on huge silver platters are placed before us, and again Issar prevents me from being served any.
I donât even have a drink. Iâm just expected to sit here, watching them all feast as I starve.
After the main course, another course comes, and then another. I can hear the men growing drunk. Less food is being consumed and wine is being poured nearly constantly.
I look around and realize there are no other women here. Iâm the only one in the room, and the thought makes me feel even more vulnerable.
When the final course is done, music starts playing, and a load of women suddenly do appear.
Theyâre dancers, by the looks of them. Their half-naked bodies gyrate as they move around the room, entertaining the men who grab at them, but they donât seem to mind.
I look away, disgusted, as the scene grows more and more profane. Most of the women start to strip, and the men shout lewd comments and encouragement.
Iâm shaking now.
All I can smell is these menâs arousal in the air. I can practically taste it.
Something about this makes me so scared, and then one of the men gets up on his bench and shouts, âLord Issar, let us see her.â
My eyes snap from him, to the warlord beside me, who narrows his eyes.
âLetâs see the siren,â another shouts, and we all know if we havenât guessed already exactly who they are asking for.
Issar shakes his head. The room feels tense. The energy has shifted, and I can feel the anger emanating off Issar beside me.
He grabs my arm, yanking me from my chair, and pulls me to sit on his lap. His hands wrap around my body as I try to jerk away.
âThe siren is mine,â he shouts as he melds the air around us. âNo one is to touch her, but me. No one is to even look at her, but me.â
I shut my eyes, feeling his nails digging into my skin.
But, in this moment, I realize this man, this monster, is actually saving me, because all these men are a threat, every single one of them, and he alone is preventing them from deciding to just take me.
He nuzzles into my neck, breathing in the scent of me, and groans.
âYou are mine, girl. All mine,â he states.
I fight back the tears as his hands begin to molest me.