Don’t Teach an Eagle to Fly – 17. chapter

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The chamber was silent. Kaelan sat on his bed and ran a hand over the crown of his head. Something inside him still vibrated like a restlessness the supper had not quenched, only stirred up. Nirella had been too quiet. Too calm. And the way she had looked at Rholan… Kaelan couldn’t shake the vague but bad feeling. He rose. Without light, silently, he went back along the corridor.

Nirella had not once thought of escape the entire time she had been here. Kaelan’s restraints were so thorough and deliberate that there was no point. But now she had a dagger. A sharp blade would cut the ropes easily. And two guards outside the door she could handle without hesitation. Then…? The delegation had settled for the night not far from the castle. If she managed to move through the keep quietly, without noise, she could reach them. And if not? What would Kaelan do to her if he caught her? He would not hurt her, she knew that for certain. Just as she knew he would torment her for it. But only for a day or two before, by agreement, returning her to her father. The chance at freedom was worth it. She cut the ropes at her wrists and sat up. Calm. Resolved. Ready. And at that moment she heard footsteps in the corridor. They stopped. It sounded familiar. She quickly lay back and covered herself.

He opened her door without hesitation. At first glance she lay still, peaceful as before. But the instant Kaelan sat on the bed, Nirella suddenly sprang up. The dagger from beneath the coverlet shone in her hand with a pale reflection of the moon, and before he could react, the blade flashed before his throat.

She threw him onto his stomach, pressing him to the coverlet with her knee on his back. She held the dagger pressed to his neck, and only that kept his stronger body motionless beneath her. While Kaelan was still only coming to himself, she thought quickly. She could not afford to lower the blade to bind his hands. Only it, pressed close to his throat, now gave her the advantage. Without a weapon he would throw her off in no time. She shoved one of the ropes into his palm and ordered,

“Start tying your hands behind your back. Slowly.”

Something sparked in his eyes. Whether from anger or surprise, not even he himself knew. A dagger at his neck, her breath at his nape, and an order. He was being bossed around by a slip of a girl who was here only so he could keep her in restraints and fuck her regularly. His teeth ground. The humiliation burned deeper than the blade. Not only did she have him in her power, she had also done it so cleanly. Fast. Flawless. Elegant.

He clicked his tongue in displeasure, but began to carry out her order. Slowly he set his hands behind his back, but in one of them he discreetly kept a piece of the bedcover. He knew Nirella would watch the opening turns of a binding they both knew well, but he hoped she would focus more on his neck. If he managed to end up tied with a piece of fabric under the knot, he would get out of it.

“You’re awfully quiet! Surprised?” she mocked him as he tied.

“I don’t like it when a woman sits on me with a dagger,” he forced through his teeth.

“Well, you weren’t in the plan. You were supposed to stay asleep.”

“I couldn’t. I missed you.”

Nirella ignored his attack on her feelings and returned her attention to the rope. He already had one hand looped with it, the other she did herself. She tightened the knot as well as she could with one hand, the other still holding the blade beneath his neck. It occurred to her to secure his binding with another knot of her own, but she was not sure whether he would manage to throw her off during it, and above all she had no time. She quickly climbed off him and he rolled onto his back.

Nirella searched his sleeves, his chest, his sides. She found nothing. No hidden blade. Nothing that could threaten her.

“Why are you doing this?” he asked. “In two days you’d be home anyway.”

She stood by the bed over him, fire flaring in her eyes. She lifted one leg, bent it, and began to lean her whole body toward him. He understood and immediately spread his thighs, so she landed hard on the bed just below his cock, not straight onto it. Even so she pressed her knee a little higher, to cause him pain in the groin. He drew a breath and clenched his teeth.

With her free hand she braced herself beside him and with the other, with the certainty of a hunter, slowly slid the dagger’s tip beneath his chin. She rested the metal under his jaw, in the soft place between it and his throat, where a single upward pressure would pierce all the way to the skull. Reflexively he lifted his head so the blade would not cut deeper into him. He breathed shallowly, despite his fury. She had him completely under control, helpless. This was definitely not a position he was used to, but her dominance was almost unbearable to him. The dagger was cold, but her gaze burned.

“I’m not your property. You won’t trade me for anything or bargain with me,” she growled.

“I’ll have to tame that pride of yours quite a bit,” he could not deny himself the threat, with absolute certainty that in a moment he would have her under control again. For that he earned the dagger moving a tiny bit higher, and with it the lift of his chin, his lips pressed together.

“And even if I swallowed that,” she continued. “You won’t gain foreign lands just because you got lucky once in one battle and captured me!”

“They are not foreign lands and it was not luck. You made a tactical mistake, you moved away from your personal guard,” he objected.

“Well, tonight you made a mistake. Your Majesty!” she emphasized the address ironically. He could not help smiling, though that tensing of his muscles cost him another lift of his chin.

Nirella began to rise slowly.

“You should rather kill me, my dear,” he growled.

She stopped in the movement and returned his gaze straight into his eyes.

“Because once I get you after this, and I will get you,” he paused for a second before finishing slowly and very emphatically:

“We will both savor my sweet revenge. Slowly. To the very end.”

The words clenched her stomach with arousal. An icy shiver ran down her spine, one that painfully resonated through the insides of her thighs. That voice. That promise. That unshakable certainty. It aroused her so much that she cursed herself for it in her mind. She hated how strongly her body reacted to him.

She felt over his chest. From his breast pocket she pulled out a handkerchief and without hesitation wrapped it over his mouth. She tied it tightly behind his head, quickly, with sure fingers. Finally she bound his legs too. She tightened the knots thoroughly, so any possible release would take as long as possible. She straightened and, satisfied, looked over her work.

“Enjoy your own medicine,” she whispered with such pleasure in her voice that it humiliated him exactly as much as she wanted.

Without another glance at him, she slipped out of the room. She left the door ajar and immediately beside it reached for the heavy wooden tray on which they had brought her food in the evening. It stood propped against the wall, forgotten, but solid enough to serve. Quiet as a shadow, she crept toward the corner behind which two guards were talking. Kaelan could not see them, but through the narrow crack between the doors he had at least a partial view of the scene.

The first of the men stood with his back to her. Nirella approached him quickly, silently, holding her breath like a hunter. Just behind him she lifted the tray above her head and with one hard swing struck him on the crown of the head. The man collapsed to his knees and then onto his side. The second began to turn. He saw her, but in the same instant her palm slammed under his chin and violently snapped his head back. It cut off his breath. When he staggered, she struck him with the edge of the tray across the cheek, making his head jerk. Before he could roar, she sprang forward and hit him in the throat with her elbow. He gasped for air, his hands shot toward her, and then she struck him one last time with the tray against the temple. He fell without a word.

Kaelan heard only a series of dull blows, a rasp, a short exhale. And then silence. Then the door closed as well. For a while he did not move at all. He only lay there, tense as a bow, and listened. His heart beat in his throat, caught between humiliation and the desire for revenge. The gag from the handkerchief bothered him in his mouth, but the real suffocating feeling was anger. Slowly he began to move his wrists. He bent his fingers and carefully caught the piece of bedcover he had managed to get there. Millimeter by millimeter he managed to pull it from beneath the loop. The rope shifted. The knot turned and then gave way. With a suppressed exhale of pain and relief, he pulled one last time and one hand came free. Immediately he tore the handkerchief from his mouth. The remaining rope on his wrist came off easily. Then he set to work on his legs. Those were bound more tightly, it took him longer. But at last he sat up. His chest rose and fell, still filled with air hot with humiliation.

He stood. His knees dipped slightly, but he quickly regained his balance. Cold fire burned in his eyes.

There is nothing left that can save you from me, princess.

Kaelan opened the door and stepped into the corridor. The body of one guard was still moving, he was breathing heavily, but unconscious. The other lay motionless. No blood.

Skilled little beast, flashed through his mind. He bent to one of them, took his dagger, and without a word ran.

She did not need to know where she was running. It was enough that she was fast. And determined. But not enough to outrun his anger. As he ran, he veered sharply toward the nearest niche in the wall, where an iron bar with a brass head hung. Bells for the guard tower. He struck it with all his strength, once, twice, three times. The sound rang through the corridors like an alarm cry.

“Seal the eastern wing!” he roared into the dark, at no one in particular. He knew someone would hear him. They had to. And then he ran again.

You are going to regret this very, very much, princess, flashed through his mind as he took the stairs two at a time and rushed down a narrow passage no outsider would ever find.

Bells thundered through the castle. The racket announced an alarm, the guards sprang into action. Somewhere above came shouts, the pounding of feet, the scrape of weapons drawn from their sheaths. Nirella froze. She knew what it meant. Kaelan is free now. She swallowed dryly and ran. She ran down the stone staircase. While she kept to the side passages, she was invisible. But now… Now the castle was waking.

She turned a corner. Ahead of her stood two soldiers, and they saw her at the same time. Surprise flickered in their eyes for a second, but immediately their hands went to their weapons. Nirella turned sharply, slipped back around the corner and ran in the opposite direction. A heartbeat later she heard pounding behind her and the call of another soldier. They had seen her. They knew it was her. And that meant only one thing. Kaelan had told them who had escaped.

Her breath burned her throat, her hands were damp with sweat, but clenched into fists. She had to find a way. Anything but the main gates. Those would already be closed. The rear stores, though… If she slipped through there, perhaps she could reach the supply tunnel.

She ducked, ran beneath an arch and nearly collided with a young soldier. She managed to see him first. Her elbow slammed into his stomach, she shoved him against the wall and, while he gasped for breath, ran past. She did not look back.

She pulled her hood low. In the shadow of the corridor, she blended with the wall. But in open spaces, she was as if laid out in the palm of a hand.

Doors. Stone, old, with copper in the corners, leading to a side yard. She pressed against them, braced her shoulder, but they were closed. Not locked, just heavy. She strained with all her strength. The doors moved an inch… two… and then a voice roared behind her:

“Stop!”

She turned. The first of the soldiers she had passed earlier. Hand on his sword, breath heavy but resolved. Nirella drew a deep breath and pushed one last time. The doors gave. She slipped through the crack, pushed them shut behind her and ran.

The outer yard was still empty. A few wagons, small barrels of grain, a low wall. Exactly what she was looking for. She swung herself onto one of the wagons, jumped over the low wall and tumbled down the slope on the other side toward a narrow stone passage that led to the supply store.

But others were already standing there.

One of them leapt at her. She dodged him, stumbled, fell to her knees, but got up. The second, however, blocked her path. She struck him hard with her fist in the face. She threw herself left, reached the door. Locked. Her back hit the wall. Two soldiers approached her. One pulled out restraints. A clink sounded.

From above came a voice: “Do not hurt her!”

Kaelan.

He stood there. On the upper balcony, dressed only in a shirt, disheveled, wild, sweaty from running. He watched as they struck her to the ground. As they knocked the dagger from her hands. As she fought. As they finally forced her down to her knees and bound her wrists behind her back.

He did not look away once. And she lifted her head, their eyes met. Despite the humiliating position, the pain and the humiliation, she looked at him… with pride. Not fear. With quiet accusation and unyielding resolve.

And he felt something inside him crack. He was aware of his fingers going rigid. Of his throat tightening.

You are incredible, he admired her silently. Which does not mean you won’t pay me dearly for tonight