3_Coveted jewels
Amie forced herself to remain still, her hands forming tight fists as she held back the desperate urge to struggle. She wanted to fight against him and free herself but one look at him was enough to tell her that she’d only end up looking pitiful and weak in her attempt to be free.
The better thing to do was to pretend she wasn’t completely terrified.
Raising her jaw, she swallowed hard and stared into his eyes. They were steel grey with specks of silver near the centre, darkened by his unwavering intensity
Thoran paused. His amusement melted away as he looked down at the dainty little woman. She stared boldly up at him and he knew she was faking it. Her ability to remain this put together in his presence was impressive, however. She piqued his interest, that alone was beyond impressive.
“What’s your name, poppet?”
She scoffed quietly. “Nunya.”
He frowned at the odd name. “Nunya?”
“Nun ya business!!”
Thoran’s frown darkened and reaching up, he snatched his dagger out of her hand. The sharp blade was held before her face and Amethyst stiffened again.
“What…” he murmured darkly. “Is your name?”
Her eyes focused on the knife this time, her bravery dwindling. “Amethyst.”
Her quiet response diffused his annoyance and he calmly raised a brow.
“Amethyst. A jewel.”
She kept her gaze on the blade, feeling her misery worsen. Again, this was all happening because he thought she was weak.
“Jewels are my favourite thing to take.” His blade grazed her cheek.
Her eyes rose then, meeting his gaze. “You mean to steal? Like the loathsome Barbarian you are?”
He narrowed his eyes at her but then scoffed. To her surprise, he released her wrists and stepped away, letting her lower her arms.
“I’ll tell you what, poppet. You’re named after my favourite gem, so I’ll let you be.” He glanced around. “I’ll even let you keep the castle.” This brat wasn’t worth his energy.
Looking away with a disbelieving scoff, she shook her head. “Why, thank you so much, Sir. How could someone as kind as you exist?” What a totally obnoxious jerk!
A thin bolt of irritation struck in his stormy eyes. “I’m going to leave now, but you’ve pissed me off an awful lot in the short time we’ve known each other. So, don’t ever let me run into you again.”
Her eyes, usually calm as a still lake, were warm with anger now. Sure, because she’d let him get away with humiliating her in numerous ways in the space of ten minutes. Fat chance.
“I’ll decide that,” she muttered.
He tilted his head. Again, she was speaking to him with the prissy tone of a spoilt princess. Thoran decided he’d had enough. Picking his other knife off the dresser, he turned to leave.
He didn’t even feel her move, but in the next instant, something sharp flicked against the back of his hand.
Stopping, he slowly raised his hand and looked down at the cut.
It was a thin, long one, turning red with blood but not dripping any.
With the leisureliness of one who feared no one, he looked at her. She held up the finger she’d cut him with, her nail red.
Frowning, she inhaled the scent of his blood.
Thoran watched her incredulously. “Did you just mark me? Or did your Vampire cravings get the best of you?”
“I wouldn’t taste your blood if you begged me.” She lowered her hand, giving him a tight expression that hid her fear. “Now I know your scent. I’ll find you no matter where you go and I’ll make you pay for today.”
His eyes narrowed, sardonic indifference curling his lip. “Oh, really? Do you promise?”
“Yes,” she said firmly. “This is the height of it. I refuse to have a criminal look down on me. I’m strong and I’m going to prove that to everyone, starting with you. So, be ready. When I find you, I’ll make you sorry.”
His face was slack with a mixture of disbelief and confusion. He moved and she flinched, jerking away.
He didn’t come any closer and Amethyst quickly regained her bravery.
“If I see you again,” he said calmly. “I’ll take more than just your castle.”
Raising her chin, Amie gulped as nonchalantly as she could. “Your threats are ineffective.” She nodded at the door. “Now, please leave. I’ve got prior engagements and I… am already late.”
His dark eyes stared at her for another joint-weakening moment and then, like he’d suddenly lost all interest in her, the criminal turned around and marched away.
As soon as he’d left, Amie crumbled against the wall, all pretence of bravery gone. A huff blew out of her mouth, her eyes widening. She did it! She’d scared him off! Hurrah!
“King of Gadon….” She released a shaky breath, resting a hand against the gem on her chest. Thank goodness he hadn’t tried to snatch her necklace away, she would’ve collapsed on the spot.
The sound of hooves reached her and Amethyst went to the window, looking out.
A man and a woman rode towards her castle, a large, gold and black chariot trailing behind their horses. Sighing, Amie nodded grievously.
Of course. That was obviously how people sent by a king would look. What on earth had made her think that some giant with the most criminal appearance ever known to man was the one sent for her? She’d been dumb and, for that, she’d nearly gotten hurt.
She pursed her lips tightly. Humiliating was an understatement. This was something she’d take to the grave; her older sisters would never let her live past this moment of stupidity.
That didn’t mean she’d let the matter go, however. Oh, on the contrary. She glanced back at her empty doorway and then looked at his blood on her nail.
That Barbarian would rue the day he’d stepped into her castle.
“Hoist the Jolly Roger!!” A pair of skinny limbs flailed wildly in the air. “Laaand ahoy!!”
“Shut it, you stick-limbed insect!” someone spat.
One of the biggest tents in the camp opened, a bearded face sticking out. Looking up at the pole at the centre of the camp, the man sighed. “Harald! What are you doing climbing poles like some unevolved primate?!”
The boy at the top of the pole looked down with a wide smirk. “Hush, you scurvy dog. A pirate’s pride is in his— aauk!”
The pole wobbled and, with a crack, went crashing to the ground.
“There, now he’s quiet.” A short, muscular man straightened, holding the axe he’d chopped the pole with. “You’re a Barbarian, you fool. Not a pirate.”
“Bjorn,” said the man in the tent with a tired sigh.
The short man turned to him with a tooth-stained grin. “He was rousin’ the whole camp.”
A shaky finger rose from underneath the pirate flag. “I’ll have me vengeance. Long as the seas stretch—”
A fat butt landed on him and Harald wheezed, grabbing the person who’d just sat on him. “Oh! G-get offff!”
“Now,” spoke the lump above him. “Say you’re a Barbarian and all pirates suck. Pledge your loyalty to the tribe or be crushed to death!”
Another sigh left the tent. Some days, Ivar wondered why Steel left him alone with a bunch of toddlers and expected him to still have his wits intact by the end of the day.
“Frank,” Ivar muttered. “Get off Harald.”
“Naw!” refused the big man, putting more of his weight on the skinny lad beneath him. “Not until he fully embraces being a Barb and rejects his pirate obsession.”
“You’ll be at it all day,” said Bjorn, walking away with several of the other men.
“Damn you, you pot of melted goo!” Harald spat tightly, his lungs burning for air.
With a sigh, Ivar was going to abandon the situation when he glanced into the forest around them and spotted someone.
He bustled out of the tent. “Hoy! Steel’s here!”
Their leader stalked into the camp, glancing about at the men who gathered around to greet him.
“Well?” Ivar said, rushing forward towards Thoran.
“Stop that.” Thoran tapped Frank’s meaty arm as he walked by the collapsed pole. “He’ll die.”
With a grunt, Frank gave in and finally got off the crushed boy on the floor.
“I’ll kill you… one of these days,” Harald whimpered weakly, trying to revive the half of his body that had lost all feeling.
“Steel.” Out of the gathered tribe members, a man appeared, approaching Thoran.
“Gunnar. Why are you up? You need to be healed before we leave.”
“It doesn’t matter,” said the other man, waving it away. “I’m not some damsel to need sleep over a stab wound. More importantly, what are we doing?”
Thoran came to a stop before Ivar and Gunnar, glancing around at them and the tribe.
Finally, he spoke. “We’re packing.”
Ivar’s bushy brows rose. “We are?! Are we moving the silver?”
“Yes.”
“Steel.” Gunnar looked displeased. “It’s ten thousand pieces of silver. How do we move that and our camp without risking any of our men? Gorden will stop at nothing to get his silver back, especially since you set his grand castle on fire.”
With his jaw clenched, Thoran looked at him. “Risking? You think staying here like waiting doves is no risk? We move, Gunn. No discussions. If Gorden wants his silver back, he can come here himself and get it.” He stared darkly at the others. “Prepare yourselves! In two days, we start packing up camp.”
“Ooh!” Limping, Harald eagerly rushed forward. “Where will we go this time, Thoran? Will we get a pretty place with lots of girls like last time?”
A smack landed on the back of his head and the boy yelped.
“Hoy!” he shouted, turning around to glare down at Bjorn.
Bjorn calmly crossed his beefy arms. “Watch how you address our leader, lad.”
“You can suck on my big toe,” Harald suggested.
Thoran looked at them. “Quiet.”
Harald straightened his back, standing at attention. “Aye, Captain.”
Reaching out, Thoran patted the boy’s shoulder. “We’ll stay at a good place, Harald.”
Gasping with wide, blue eyes, Harald broke out the biggest grin ever known to man.
“You rascal,” muttered Bjorn. “Your eyes just roll silly at the thought of girls, don’t they?”
“His tongue’s lolling out,” added Frank.
“You mean like yours does when you see roast meat?” Harald asked politely.
“That’s it!!” shouted Frank. “You’re about to be flat as the back of Bjorn’s head!”
Blinking, Bjorn watched Harald run about the camp to escape his fate of being made flat. He wanted to wonder why the back of his head had to be mentioned in the matter but couldn’t. He had more important things to think about. Like what Thoran was planning.
The Barbarians didn’t have only their lives to worry about. The gold, the silver and all the jewels, none of it would matter if they lost their lives. Nothing they were fighting for would be made a reality, it would all go up in smoke and come down in ashes.
Bjorn sighed, looking at the closed tent. He could only hope that Thoran understood that.
Thoran did understand it. He knew he was rushing things because of how annoyed that prissy little woman made him, but he was still making the right call. Still, she was on his mind. Why had he let her live? He'd even left her the castle. That was unlike him.
"You sure about this?" Gunnar asked.
Thoran nodded and absent-mindedly dragged a hand into his hair. "Ivar."
"Yes, Steel."
"I need you to find something out for me. There's a castle. It sits near Gadon, but not quite in the kingdom. Find out who owns it."
He dropped into a chair, staring darkly into space as he raised his hand to study the cut she'd left on him.
What an interesting little brat. He couldn't help but wonder when next he'd see her...