The King's Cursed Bride

Taking Risks

"No, wait!" Carissa followed him. She didn't want to endanger the camp, but she had to speak to Elon first. She caught his wrist.

He glanced back at her, his eyes and expression blank. He didn't speak. Would she become like him if they drugged her?

"Just... give me a day to tell them. I'll take care of this." Surely she could find Elon while they were traveling.

The boy blinked. "No. Before morning rise."

Or she could find him that night. "Fine." She released his wrist slowly.

He stared at her for another moment before walking back into camp. She hoped he didn't tell anyone.

Now, to find Elon.

Carissa began walking. Should she just ask Zorelle? Or would Zorelle forbid her to see him this time? After a few minutes, she spotted the right tent—its ceiling low and its perimeter guarded by Reapers. The Reapers likely wouldn't let her pass without permission, and she'd already tried to sneak in before. That meant she'd be seeing Zorelle.

Carissa veered to the right, striding towards the larger tents in the middle of camp. Zorelle would likely be in one of those.

And then a smell hit her. She slowed and sniffed. It smelled like warm bread and cooked meat. Her stomach cramped painfully. Where was that smell coming from? Her nose guided her towards a tent, and she peeked through the slit in the opening. A crowd of servants was gathered around a table.

Well, great. The servants wouldn't likely help her. Perhaps she could sneak in and steal some food. If she snuck around the back and managed to hide beneath the table—

Carissa shook her head. Bad idea. If she were caught, the servants would likely tell Zorelle. She began to pass the tent, but a piece of their conversation floated by and held her in place:

"When should we stage the rebellion?"

Rebellion? So some of the servants were unsatisfied with being ruled by the Reapers. Perhaps that was why the servants had been exchanging notes. Carissa strode around the tent, lest one of them burst out of the entrance and discover her eavesdropping.

"We ought to do it before we reach the fort. There are too many Reapers there, and we won't be able to take them all on." The second voice rasped like sandpaper on wood.

"But the fort has supplies we need."

"It's not worth the risk."

"Our freedom is worth any risk." A deep voice rolled over the others. "With the wolves prowling around, the Reapers will only let their guard down once they're within the fort. The first night, they will likely have a welcoming feast. Once they're deep into their cups, we'll strike."

Argument burst out among the others, some agreeing, some disagreeing.

"Silence."

At the sound of the man's deep voice, everyone fell quiet.

"We've discussed enough for tonight, and we still have a few more days until we reach the fort. We need to retake the Y'thapa before the Reapers become suspicious."

"But we just got off that Nysia-forsaken drug," one man grumbled. "For the rest of the trip, I'm certain we all can keep our calm, and—"

"No. If the Reapers discover one of us isn't drugged, they'll realize we have a detoxifying agent and confiscate it. Then we'll have no means of removing the drug from our system when it's necessary."

Carissa backed away from the tent and began walking towards the tent where they held Elon. So they had a detoxifying agent to remove the drug? Perhaps she could obtain some herself. But how? She had no friends among the servants, and she had no idea what it looked like.

Carissa stopped a few tents away. If she could just see Elon, he'd tell her all of the answers. She could disguise herself as a servant again, but it was doubtful the Reapers would fall for that, given her last attempt... The entire circumference of the tent was still guarded, so that left one option open to her: asking permission.

She strode up to the Reaper. He placed a hand on his Scythe, where it hung from his waist.

Not a good sign.

She stopped in front of him. "I've come to speak with my husband."

"Zorelle has forbidden any more contact between the two of you."

Carissa blinked. "But—"

"My answer will not change. You'd best leave before I have someone escort you to your tent."

Carissa shifted to the side, hoping to dart past him.

The Reaper matched her stance, his Scythe in hand.

This obviously wasn't going anywhere. Carissa raised her hands and backpedaled. "Fine, fine. I'll be going now." She turned and walked out of sight of the Reaper. As the night deepened, the air grew colder. Her breath misted in front of her.

Now what?

She could find a way to drug the Reapers. Or to create a distraction to draw the Reapers away from the tent.

Or she could take the Y'thapa.

Carissa clenched and unclenched her hands, trying to thaw her fingers. Taking the Y'thapa felt like admitting defeat. Like she'd tried to control her fears but failed. Like she'd tried to befriend the servants but failed. Like she tried to trust Elon but failed.

But maybe taking the Y'thapa didn't have to mean defeat. Maybe it just meant delaying victory. After all, if Elon had a plan, didn't trusting him mean letting go of her own plans?

But what if she were wrong?

She glanced at the sky. It was a hint lighter than when she'd last checked. That meant she didn't have long until morning rise.

Even if she were wrong, she simply didn't have time to pursue another course. Elon had known what choice she was going to make, which meant he had a plan for it. Right?

Carissa stopped and found herself before a smaller tent—one next to the tent where she'd dined with Zorelle. She peered inside and found barrels, sacks, paper-wrapped packages. This was likely where they stored the food, including the leftovers from her dinner with Zorelle.

She entered inside and unwrapped one of the packages, the paper crunching in her hands. Slices of cheese were lined in neat rows. Carissa pinched one between her forefinger and thumb.

If this were drugged, she'd likely be at the fort once she awoke. That meant she'd wake up on the cusp of the rebellion.

Carissa tore of half the slice of cheese. But perhaps that wasn't a bad thing. She could use the rebellion as a distraction and free Elon. Or if it wasn't time for them to escape yet, she could at least speak to him.

But if the servants' rebellion succeeded, what would they do with her? Would they imprison her? Execute her with the Reapers?

Carissa slipped the slice of cheese between her lips. Chewed. Swallowed. Winced at the bitter aftertaste.

That was a risk she was going to have to take.

***

Author's Note: Yes, there is a sneak peek! Check out my WattPad bio to find the link, if you want to read a bit of the upcoming chapter :)