gasp, but she still managed to say, “You’re insane! Braeriach ?”
“Aye, maybe I am, so if I were you, I would give that some thought. An insane man has nothing to lose, eh? Even worrying over a witch perishing from her own stubbornness.”
“My own stubbornness,” she spluttered, but his arrogance was simply blowing her away. Braeriach was one of the highest, most dangerous peaks in Scotia. “It’s saved my life so far—”
“So far it’s gotten you gagged. Do you want to wear one again?”
“I will not tag along on this madness, Alex.”
“You will not?” Alex roared, startling her so badly she nearly lost her footing on the rock. “Your wishes mean nothing to me. And what you want means even less, witch. We walk. Now. Or I bind your hands and drag you up the mountain.”
She clenched her fists, not moving. Slowly, she opened her hands and observed that she’d sliced into her palms with her short, sharp nails.
He meant that, truly, completely meant that. He’d do anything for this revenge. Even trade her to some mage he had no chance of defeating—he had to know that, but when she listened to him, she heard his confidence and wondered. Could he have a means for killing this mage she didn’t know about? Or, was this like the softer ropes he’d used to bind her—not as rough as the demon’s bindings, but in the end just as painful? Was he simply forgetting that fact? Even if he had something to kill Zith with, in the end, she could still suffer. Or maybe, that isn’t even a thought in his head.
“Do you understand?”
“I understand completely,” she murmured, keeping her thoughts to herself.
“Walk, now.”
Sorcha stared at him for that—only for a moment then dropped her eyes and started walking. She felt washed out, drained, impotently angry. Everything was going to hell and she had no way to stop it. Alex held all the cards, didn’t he? He wouldn’t even tell her who this Zith person was, nor why he wanted to trade her. Or for what.
Zith . It had to be short for something else, but what she couldn’t figure out. She knew no one with a ‘zith’ in their name.
After several minutes of simply placing one foot in front of the other, she worked up enough courage to ask, “Who is Zith?”
Alex stumbled on a rock he’d jumped to and caught himself easily. He turned to look back at her and examined her face. “Where did you hear that name?”
One thing she’d learnt about Alex was that he blew his lid then, as if he’d punished a misbehaving child, he went on, lesson learnt. He didn’t seem to mind teaching the same lesson repeatedly. He didn’t want her talking, but he let her—to a point—then he raged at her. He didn’t want to answer questions, but he just had, then raged at her. The cycle didn’t escalate to more, but it didn’t lessen either.
She could choose her words carefully and show him the respect he seemed to feel he deserved simply breathing air, or she could be unbendable as well.
“Well, I was awake and aware when you discussed this little adventure with your partner, Markee.”
“Markee isn’t a part of this.”
“Oh? Well excuse the nuance. Who is Zith? A warlock? From where?”
Alex shook his head hard.
“Why can’t you simply tell me?”
He ignored her and jumped off one big moss covered boulder to the other side of a ten-foot wide ravine, landing on the opposite side without any effort. He motioned impatiently for her to use a fallen tree to her left. She eyed the huge cedar then him. He watched her, almost as if he didn’t think she could cross.
Humiliation heated her face. He thought her some weak, simple woman, didn’t he? Yes, her feet hurt, her heels rubbed raw from the new boots, her chest ached and burnt, her head throbbed from beating it against stupid men, but she’d kept up with him, even keeping her grumbles to herself when he wouldn’t let them stop to eat. She’d run these highlands blindfolded at one point in her
“Aye, maybe I am, so if I were you, I would give that some thought. An insane man has nothing to lose, eh? Even worrying over a witch perishing from her own stubbornness.”
“My own stubbornness,” she spluttered, but his arrogance was simply blowing her away. Braeriach was one of the highest, most dangerous peaks in Scotia. “It’s saved my life so far—”
“So far it’s gotten you gagged. Do you want to wear one again?”
“I will not tag along on this madness, Alex.”
“You will not?” Alex roared, startling her so badly she nearly lost her footing on the rock. “Your wishes mean nothing to me. And what you want means even less, witch. We walk. Now. Or I bind your hands and drag you up the mountain.”
She clenched her fists, not moving. Slowly, she opened her hands and observed that she’d sliced into her palms with her short, sharp nails.
He meant that, truly, completely meant that. He’d do anything for this revenge. Even trade her to some mage he had no chance of defeating—he had to know that, but when she listened to him, she heard his confidence and wondered. Could he have a means for killing this mage she didn’t know about? Or, was this like the softer ropes he’d used to bind her—not as rough as the demon’s bindings, but in the end just as painful? Was he simply forgetting that fact? Even if he had something to kill Zith with, in the end, she could still suffer. Or maybe, that isn’t even a thought in his head.
“Do you understand?”
“I understand completely,” she murmured, keeping her thoughts to herself.
“Walk, now.”
Sorcha stared at him for that—only for a moment then dropped her eyes and started walking. She felt washed out, drained, impotently angry. Everything was going to hell and she had no way to stop it. Alex held all the cards, didn’t he? He wouldn’t even tell her who this Zith person was, nor why he wanted to trade her. Or for what.
Zith . It had to be short for something else, but what she couldn’t figure out. She knew no one with a ‘zith’ in their name.
After several minutes of simply placing one foot in front of the other, she worked up enough courage to ask, “Who is Zith?”
Alex stumbled on a rock he’d jumped to and caught himself easily. He turned to look back at her and examined her face. “Where did you hear that name?”
One thing she’d learnt about Alex was that he blew his lid then, as if he’d punished a misbehaving child, he went on, lesson learnt. He didn’t seem to mind teaching the same lesson repeatedly. He didn’t want her talking, but he let her—to a point—then he raged at her. He didn’t want to answer questions, but he just had, then raged at her. The cycle didn’t escalate to more, but it didn’t lessen either.
She could choose her words carefully and show him the respect he seemed to feel he deserved simply breathing air, or she could be unbendable as well.
“Well, I was awake and aware when you discussed this little adventure with your partner, Markee.”
“Markee isn’t a part of this.”
“Oh? Well excuse the nuance. Who is Zith? A warlock? From where?”
Alex shook his head hard.
“Why can’t you simply tell me?”
He ignored her and jumped off one big moss covered boulder to the other side of a ten-foot wide ravine, landing on the opposite side without any effort. He motioned impatiently for her to use a fallen tree to her left. She eyed the huge cedar then him. He watched her, almost as if he didn’t think she could cross.
Humiliation heated her face. He thought her some weak, simple woman, didn’t he? Yes, her feet hurt, her heels rubbed raw from the new boots, her chest ached and burnt, her head throbbed from beating it against stupid men, but she’d kept up with him, even keeping her grumbles to herself when he wouldn’t let them stop to eat. She’d run these highlands blindfolded at one point in her
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