Finally catching on, the guard brought the weapon down on the king’s shoulder. An awful scraping noise and a loud crack sounded. However, the king’s arm remained in place.
“Wow, that bone armor really works,” I said.
He stood to pull off his chest protector.
I shook my head. “Too late.”
When he rounded on me, I knew I should have kept my mouth shut. The Skeleton King seized my upper arms and yanked me to my feet.
He leaned forward, his nose almost touching mine. “I’m. Going. To. Eat. You. Alive.” He bared his teeth. “I’ve learned so much. You’ll linger for days before I stop your heart.”
This time I clamped my lips together. No need to remind him that he might not be feeling well in a few days. Although, he might have ingested enough of my blood to protect him from the plague. Unless the acid in his stomach destroyed it. If I survived this, I’d have to experiment. Big if.
The soldiers who had been stationed outside the tent finally cleared off the fabric. Sunlight and fresh air flooded the area. I blinked, letting my eyes adjust. The sun hung low in the west. Had the torture only lasted an afternoon? It had felt like days.
Another soldier ran up. “Sire, we are under attack!”
The Skeleton King glanced at the man in surprise. “Tohon’s soldiers?”
“No, sire.”
“Dead soldiers?”
“No, it’s an army of women, sire.”
Now I was surprised. I’d thought Fydelia’s troops had gone north with Ryne. He’d lied to me again, but I was too happy to be upset.
The king shoved me toward his guards. “Take her back to her tent. Watch her very closely.”
“Yes, sire,” they said in unison.
As they towed me through the camp, I scanned the woods, looking for Belen and the others while also seeking signs of the attack. Nothing except the Skeleton King’s men rushing off to the southeast—the makings of a perfect distraction.
Hunching inward, I slowed my steps.
“Come on.” The guard on my right tightened his grip.
I hissed in pain, because it hurt like hell.
“Don’t worry, sweetheart, you’ll heal,” he said.
I’d do more than that, I promised, but kept that to myself. After we entered the tent, I rummaged in my pack for my other shirt. Huddled on the ground, I acted pathetic, fumbling at the buttons while trying to keep the tattered, blood-soaked remains of my shirt over my br**sts.
Finally, I huffed in defeat and stared up at the guards with, what I’d hoped, was a helpless expression. “Can you take these off for a moment so I can change?” I stood, holding out my arms. “Please?”
The guards exchanged a look. The one on the left shrugged. When he approached, he said, “Make it quick.” He unlocked the manacles and removed the heavy metal cuffs.
“Oh, my,” I said, swooning. I clutched his arm. “I think...I’m going...to...”
He automatically stepped closer to support me. I rubbed my free hand on my chest and coated my fingers with blood. I waved them in front of the guard’s face.
“Look at this!” I shrieked as I slid my grip up his arm and to the back of his head.
One shot only. Better not miss.
I touched his neck and zapped him, rendering him unconscious. He keeled forward.
“He fainted,” I cried. I knelt next to him, rolled him over, and fanned his face.
“Move away from him,” his friend ordered, keeping the guard between us.
I backed up as the soldier checked his pulse.
“Come on, Trey, it’s just a little blood,” he said.
Relief eased my racing heart a fraction—he didn’t know about my full abilities.
“Do you want me to check and make sure it’s not something else?” I asked. “I felt a cut on Trey’s arm, it could be infected.” I dangled one of the common worries for foot soldiers—infection which could lead to gangrene.
“Uh...”
I returned to Trey’s side. Lifting his right arm, I tugged his sleeve down, but it was awkward. “Here, hold his arm.” I thrust it at the other man.
Instinctively, he grabbed it. Big mistake. I covered his hand with mine and zapped him, pushing the full strength of my power into his body.
He cried out and hunched forward against the pain, exposing the back of his neck. One quick touch and he collapsed over Trey.
Yes! I ripped off the bloody rags and changed into a clean undershirt. Then I stripped the second man’s shirt off and donned it. The long sleeves hid the bite-shaped wounds. I kept my pants as they resembled the ones worn by the king’s troops, but I rifled through the guards’ pockets and helped myself to a few other items, including a sword.
Slinging my pack over my shoulder, I paused for a moment as a wave of pain radiated. I hoped the Skeleton King suffered greatly before he died from the plague. When the sharp pain eased back into a steady throb, I peeked through the flaps of the tent. The sun’s final rays painted the sky with yellows and oranges. I debated waiting until full dark to make my escape, but the camp appeared to be deserted.
Glancing at the woods to the north, I figured Belen, the monkeys, and Flea had all escaped by now. But I worried about Kerrick. He had used much of his energy during the attempt to rescue me, and that first guard mentioned someone collapsing after being escorted to another tent. I scanned the encampment again, this time seeking signs of a guarded tent before realizing that if Kerrick was awake, he’d have slipped pass his guards by now, and if he wasn’t, then why would they assign men to watch an unconscious man when they were under attack?