Romeria
“He wouldn’t have found Gesine if it weren’t for me.” I yank a plump green berry off the vine Zorya tossed at me on her way past. They may look like grapes, but grapes they are not, their sourness bordering on unbearable.
“Many things would not have happened, if not for you,” Elisaf reminds me, adjusting his position against the tree we’re both using for back support as we watch the camp’s activities.
The Islorian guard who used to pace outside my wallpapered prison, ten steps to the left, ten to the right, hasn’t left my side since Zander’s abrupt dismissal at the tent. Not even when I had to squat behind a bush to relieve myself. I’m not sure whether he’s stuck to my side as my friend, my guardian, or my captor. Was that simple call-out earlier Zander’s order for Elisaf to watch me? He can’t think I’d run, not without Gesine. And if any of these legionaries decided to go against his order and sacrifice their lives and their honor for the greater good of Islor … I’ve seen Elisaf go toe-to-toe with Zander in the sparring square, and he knows his way around a blade, but could he stand long against these hardened warriors?
My mouth puckers around the tart berry.
Elisaf chuckles. “I will wager Corrin’s stew does not seem so bland anymore.”
“Is this really the only edible thing that grows around here?”
“What do you think?” He smirks, telling me my suspicions are accurate and this was Zorya’s way of telling the Ybarisan princess to go fuck herself. “But at least your stomach has taken a break from growling. I’m sure they could hear it across the camp.”
The gathering around the boar grows as warriors finish their tasks and venture over to carve off a hunk of meat. How much sustenance will they get from that animal?
Abarrane’s earlier threat to Gesine has me questioning it. “What will they do when, you know … they need to feed?” No humans live in Eldred Woods. How long can they last before they grow weak?
Elisaf seems to consider his answer. “These warriors have built up a tolerance and can go several weeks between taking a vein if needed. It is a requirement as a legionary, and as you can see in present circumstance, an important one. But mortal blood also speeds up the healing process.”
And so many of them are injured.
“Regardless, we will all have to seek tributaries, eventually.”
I don’t miss the we in that statement. The legionaries, Elisaf.
Zander.
He says he only uses tributaries when necessary, but it will become necessary soon enough. It’s been weeks since I spied him feeding off that woman. How long will he be able to hold out before he disappears into a room or tent with a human?
“Where will you find them?”
“In the towns and villages that we move through once we leave here. We will request the use of them from their keepers.”
“And if the keeper refuses?” They own these humans. They feed, clothe, and shelter them, the cuffs on their ears branding them.
A faint, amused look crosses Elisaf’s face. “Refuse a request from the king or his right arm?”
“It isn’t much of a request, then.” These tributaries will undoubtedly be young and willing and eager to impress the king—exiled or not. My jealousy flares with the thought of Zander that close to another woman, despite the act. Despite the reality that we are all but estranged now.
My attention drifts to the large tent in the back, my fingertip skating over the tiny cut against my neck. It feels like forever since Zander shut that flap door in my face and sent me away. “What do you think they’re talking about?”
Elisaf lifts an eyebrow. “I think you have a very good idea what they’re talking about.”
Me.
Princess Romeria.
This curse.
But what will happen when Zander gets the answers he wants? What will he decide?
The legionary from the castle dungeon strolls toward us, a hunk of cooked meat speared on the end of his dagger. He’s dressed in leathers and strapped with weapons, his hair pulled back with three fresh braids that Zorya plaited with swift hands earlier. From my angle huddled on the ground, the brawny warrior may as well be a giant.
He stops a foot away from us and holds out the meat for Elisaf, who collects it with a murmur of thanks.
My mouth waters as I watch Elisaf sink his teeth in, the juice dripping down his chin. What I would do for a taste of that right now.