The Prince's Mark

Chapter Nine

Tracou awoke to pain. His left cheek was throbbing, but why? His body felt sluggish, like it was still catching up to the fact that he was awake. He tried to move his hand to rub his cheek, but he couldn't. He couldn't move at all! Rope wound around his arms and legs, forcing him onto his knees with his hands stuck behind his back. Tracou groaned at the realization, only then noticing that there was a foul tasting cloth in his mouth.

Exhaustion fled as panic flooded his body.

A woman knelt in front of him, a different one than the one with the wine. She was younger and looked a lot less accommodating than the other woman. Not only that, but she was wearing ragged clothing and her bushy hair likely hadn't seen a comb in ages. The woman was expressionless.

"He's a bony one," she quipped, wiggling her hand.

That, at least, explained where the hit to the cheek came from.

Another woman appeared, squatting next to the first. She put more effort into her appearance, but her clothes were just as frayed and filthy as the other woman's. "I told you it would have been easier to kick him in the stomach."

"I didn't want him to throw up."

"Hmm, you're right, that's gross."

"You wanna talk about gross—I wish I hadn't woken him up. Dezmek eyes are disgusting."

Tracou's dezmek eyes focused on both women. Never in his life had he seen either of them. Why was this happening? With a shaky exhale, Tracou closed his eyes and tried to remember what had lead up to this.

The last thing he recalled was drinking the wine that other woman gave him, but he felt like he wouldn't have done anything after that to deserve whatever this was. Perhaps he had drunkenly wandered into the slums. Tracou had never been to Shalen's slums before, but desperate humans could do anything—they had no scruples at all.

The one part of his body he could move was his neck. Slowly, so he could hopefully avoid another smack, Tracou looked around the area.

Trees. All he could see were trees. They were so far out of town that they were in a forest. If something happened to him, no one would hear any cries for help. No one would stumble upon them. He didn't even know which direction Shalen was in.

If humans had taken the time to drag him all the way out here...

He needed to get to his wand. If he had his wand, he could leave this place unscathed.

"All right, you two, get out of my way."

That voice was familiar. Tracou sat straight up, hands clenched behind him. That voice, smooth but slimy, belonged to Pendaer.

The elf got down on one knee in front of Tracou and smirked at him.

"How are you feeling?"

Even if Tracou had been able to speak, he wouldn't have answered Pendaer's question.

But this at least made sense. He knew what Pendaer wanted—he wasn't here just to rob him. Maybe he could get out of here without being robbed, beaten, or worse.

And yet Tracou's racing heart showed no signs of slowing, even with this possibility in his mind.

Pendaer reached out and grabbed Tracou's chin, tilting it upwards. "I heard that you might have a bit of a headache."

One of the women tittered in the background. Hearing that made Pendaer's smirk just a tad wider.

"I have a few questions for you and I'd like it if you would cooperate. His highness has left. It's imperative that I bring him home, meaning that I need to know where he went. You'll help me, won't you? It's for his own good. Even a dezmek like you had to have noticed that the prince is ill-equipped for traveling."