Lovely Demise

⊘⊘५

I run.

My boots sink into the soft dirt as I push through the dense trees—my eyes trained on the camp that sat so close. If this has any hope of working, I need to get there as soon as possible.

As I crash through the last clearing of trees, I don't slow down. There are no guards posted outside the edges of the camp, and I grit my teeth as I run into it—the sounds of laughs and drunken conversations floating through the air.

"H-help me! Please..." My voice comes out ragged and far too quiet, but I know it got someone's attention. I slow my pace down to a wary walk, my arms quivering and my hands shaking as I walk past the rows of tents.

There's a group of men standing around a fire barely a yard away, and their once loud and boisterous conversation has disappeared as they turn to look at me. They're eyes go wide, and their wings tuck behind their back.

I know how I look—My hair was a rats nest above my head no doubt, twigs and leaves entangled in the once soft strands. My once white shirt was barely covering my chest and was covered in dirt and blood.

My eyes were wide with fear, and my cheeks were flushed from running—but the first thing they would see is the blood splatter that was lingering on my cheek.

I knew how it looked, and I was more than satisfied with the results.

I come to a complete stop in the center of the camp, my breath coming out in short, terrified gasps as I cross my arms loosely over my chest, my head darting from side to side as the Illyrian's slowly approach.

One of them whispers a sharp order to another, and the man only nods his head before scurrying away in the direction of another tent. I take a hesitant step back as the group approaches, but the one in front holds up his hands, his brown eyes softening as he looks at me.

"We're not going to hurt you. You're safe here." I want to snort. Yeah, right. Instead, I shake my head, my whole body now shaking as they get closer. The man notices my reaction, and he ceases his movement, his mouth pursing into a thin line.

I can see the anger on his face as he looks at the mess that I was, and his buddies stay silent behind him. A commotion to my right has me 'jumping' out of my skin, and I flinch from the sound of a man shouting—my eyes snapping towards the sound.

I take another step back as the guy from earlier comes back—another pack of man at his heels. My eyes flit towards the men—landing on the one in the front of the group.

It was the same man that I had seen at the pub this morning—and his siphons were glowing as he stalked towards me. My breath stalled when I saw the shadows that were dancing around his hands, and I took another step back, the fear on my face not as fake as it had been before.

This is the spymaster? This is the man that has had my spies running around with their heads up their asses?

He stops when he sees my reaction—his eyes darkening and his hands tightening into fists at his side. Almost instantly, his shadows disappear from view, and the aura of power that was once hanging around him dims significantly.

The group of Illyrians behind him stay back as he slowly approaches me, and I put on the best damn show of my life as I continue to shake and gasp for breath. I widen my eyes as he gets closer—carefully observing every single one of his movements.

He slowly looks me over, his dark eyes taking in the blood staining my skin and the tear that I was trying to cover with my hands. There wasn't so much as an inkling of suspicion as he looks at me, his hands raised in a calming manner.