From Slave To Queen (Athena and Michael) novel Chapter 45

Chapter 45

Elara

The banshee camp is farther than I expected.

Flanked by Drystan on one side and the snow–haired girl on the other, I feel the urge to turn and look behind me. Cassian is just a dot in the distance and, despite that, I feel his eyes on me, setting me on fire from within.

His scent, the one I find hard to classify and can only call nocturnal, surrounds me. I feel it on every inch of me. When I think of my skin, I can’t help but think of his. Smooth, perfect, and cold as ice, in contact with mine in the lake. Despite being shocked by the encounter with the undine, the memory of his hard chest against mine makes my cheeks burn.

I notice the curious gaze of the girl beside me. I try to focus on what lies ahead.

We reach the camp, and Cassian is no longer even a dot in the distance–I can’t see him. There are small huts and cabins made of wood with straw and canvas roofs. Some seem sturdier, built from stone and clay, but they are much fewer. Beside each door hang charms that tinkle with unsettling sounds every time the wind stirs them.

There are only women, and all of them look at Drystan and me with serious, expressionless faces. They don’t seem particularly happy to receive visitors. I can see scars on some of their mouths or deeper ones crossing cheekbones, collarbones, eyes…

These women must have been through hell.

“Naja won’t receive you until tomorrow,” the young woman finally breaks the silence. “So I suggest you sit by the fire while we decide what to do with you. We don’t usually get visitors.”

“Who is Naja?” I ask.

“The witch you came to see.”

“Why can’t she see us now?” Drystan interrupts.

The young woman grimaces in clear displeasure before turning to him and shooting a look full of hatred.

“Do you think everyone is at the disposal of powerful vampires? Not everything works with your little finger snaps.”

“No?” he feigns surprise, placing a hand on his chest. “They usually say I’m very persuasive and that my charms are exceptional.”

The growl she directs at him isn’t enough to stop Drystan’s stream of words. It’s evident that the serious demeanor he insists on maintaining is just a mask hiding something else–possibly a mischievous personality that loves to provoke. He amuses me; sometimes I forget what he is thanks to that attitude.

“We’ll sit,” I say, approaching Drystan and nodding toward the fire. “And wait.”

I emphasize the last word, looking him in the eye. He raises his eyebrows so high they nearly touch his hairline. He seems surprised by this burst of confidence–even I am surprised.

He nods, following me to the fire. We drop onto a tree log and quickly many of the women who had been sitting nearby get up and disappear. We are, clearly, outcasts here.

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Chapter 45

We remain alone, in silence, as I bring my hands near the flames, desperately seeking warmth. These past days have been torment; my teeth still ache from so much chattering.

“I thought no one could hate you more than I do,” I comment, not looking away from the fire. “What did you do to these women?”

“We? Nothing,” he replies completely calmly. “I can’t say the same for others. They probably did atrocious things to them.”

“What kinds of things?”

“They sew our mouths shut,” says the girl from before, making me jump at the fire.

She sits across from us on a rickety chair and stretches her legs toward the flames. Her skin and hair seem like pure fire thanks to the light, but my eyes can’t look away from the grotesque scars around her mouth. They’re irregular, raised, and have taken on a whitish hue with time.

“Why?”

“Banshees predict death, and part of us can’t help but react when we’re near a vampire, since they carry death with them. Also, many times we use our scream as a way to defend ourselves, rendering our opponents useless. If they take our scream, they leave us without defense–we’re vulnerable.”

“Just out of curiosity…” Drystan leaves the phrase hanging in the air. “What did you say your name was?”

The girl continues to give him that same wary, annoyed look. I assume she’s not going to answer when the name slips from her lips:

“Evanora.”

“Well then.” I hear him inhale beside me. “Just for the record, I’m not in favor of what they did to you, Evanora. Not to you or any of your sisters. As I understand, that practice has been banned. The Dravens outlawed it.”

“Not everyone follows the rules, do they?” Evanora lifts a brow in defiance. “You vampires know very little about respecting

rules.”

I bite my lower lip, feeling the tension settle over me, threatening to crush me into the ground. Out of the corner of my eye, I see windows and doors of the cabins shutting. These women are terrified.

“I only came to say that Elara can spend the night with me,” she says, sliding her eyes to me. “If that’s okay with you. As for you–whatever your name is–you’re free to return to your master.”

“I’m not leaving without Elara, and I’m not stupid enough to go and risk not being allowed back.”

Evanora gets up from her chair, which creaks under her weight, and walks firmly toward us. She crouches a bit to be eye level and then places her index and middle finger on Drystan’s forehead. I feel him tense beside me, but he does nothing else. We both listen closely as incomprehensible words are murmured from Evanora’s lips, and when she finishes, a mark glows on his forehead. My mouth opens in surprise, and she must see the questions burning in me.

“This mark allows only you to enter the camp while she is with us.” She extends a hand to help me to my feet. “Don’t wander around if it’s not to be with her. We have eyes everywhere, and we don’t like snoopers.”

Without adding anything more, she pulls me away from the fire. I glance at Drystan over my shoulder, and he inclines his head before disappearing. There’s no trace of that mysterious mark. We walk through the camp without encountering many

Chapter 45

others until we stop before a small, modest cabin. Evanora opens the door for me and waits until I enter to close it behind.

1. me.

“You can use that cot there. The fire is lit, and they’ll bring some dinner shortly.”

I follow her gaze and approach the cot near the fire with short, hesitant steps. My fingers immediately stretch toward the fireplace, seeking warmth again. I look around. As I imagined, the cabin holds no luxuries. It’s furnished with an old table and two rickety chairs. From the ceiling hang the same charms as outside the doors: colorful feathers, bones, stones… At the back, there’s what seems to be a tiny kitchen and, near the fire, two small cots with sheets so thin I understand why they’re so close to the chimney. Evanora sits beside a large trunk at the foot of the other cot, crosses her arms, and looks toward the flames.