Hold Me Never (Holding Never) (4 page)

As I push myself up, my ears ringing and my head
spinning, I catch sight of the other soldiers helping that weak,
spluttering soldier up. That has got to be the most useless, unfit
soldier I have ever come across. If only I had been quicker and
stronger and squeezed harder.

I spit out the blood from my mouth and wipe the demented
smirk from my face with the back of my hand.

The soldier removes his helmet, still coughing and
wheezing. His straggly orange hair falls down to his ears and he
waves away the other soldiers, the rings glinting obscenely on his
fingers.

I stare at that bright orange hair and his profile.

At those pale, gray eyes.

That weak, wobbly chin.

The soft, manicured fingers.

The smooth, pallid complexion.

The paunch.

The jewels.

A life of excess and luxury.

I blink hard, as the portrait at the front of the
factory looms before my eyes.

I stagger back, shocked and sickened.

This is no soldier. This is the Emperor!

The air leaves my lungs as I scrabble backwards in
horror. God, what have I done? Did I just attack the Emperor? Did
I just try to strangle him with my bare hands? I turn my hands over
numbly in front of me, staring at them as though these strange,
shaking hands belong to someone else. Someone completely crazy.

My back thuds against something solid and I turn around
in a daze.

I lift my head and wince, expecting a blow. But those
brown eyes that meet mine don't look cruel and hostile. In fact,
they look more tortured than angry.

The Emperor is clutching his neck and pointing.
“Commander Ryleth, arrest her!” he squawks. “Deliver
her to the Palace! I want her...behind the Wall.”

An unnaturally long pause. “Yes, Your Majesty,”
the tall, brown-eyed soldier behind me says at last.

I stare at the soldier who has been ordered to arrest me
and deliver me to the Palace. Commander Ryleth is tall and
broad-shouldered, tanned with a strong jaw and deep, intelligent
eyes. His hand is on the hilt of his sword. Unlike the Emperor, he
is solidly built, his arms and legs long and muscled. We watch each
other like hawks for a couple of heartbeats, our fists and jaws
clenched, as if daring the other to make a move.

The Emperor pushes in front of me abruptly. “Your
name?” he spits, the blood from his mouth splattering across my
cheek.

Panic and revulsion render me speechless.

The Emperor narrows his eyes. “I asked you a
question.” His pale, manicured finger trails down my face
towards my lips.

When I squeeze my eyes shut, he grabs my hair and yanks
my head back. “You will answer me! What is your name?”
he shrieks.

“
Zoey. Zoey Whard,” I stutter in a
monotone. I am standing nose to nose with the Emperor, inhaling his
fetid breath, surrounded by half a dozen lethal Imperial soldiers.
The branding iron is rolling behind the Emperor. In his mad rage, he
could very well club a hole in my skull with it or sear my eyelids
permanently shut. Not answering the Emperor's question would just be
a futile and foolish act of defiance.

I expect him to strike me, to punish me for attacking
him and humiliating him in front of his soldiers and people.
Instead, a slow smile spreads across his cracked lips. “Ah,
Zoey, I see you like it rough. Well, well. So do I. Blood makes it
more...satisfying, doesn't it?” He leans forwards and licks
the corner of my lips, smearing his blood over my mouth. I press my
lips tightly together, willing myself not to react. The scrape of
his tongue over my mouth and chin makes me want to retch violently.
I can feel a fierce tremor vibrating at the base of my spine and
surging up the entire length of my body.

My knees suddenly wobble, knocking hard against each
other and my legs give out under me. All the fight has gone out of
me, and without my bravado, my strength seems to evaporate as well.

I collapse, but Commander Ryleth's powerful arm shoots
out and catches me before I crash to the ground. He holds me by my
arm, supporting me. I slump against his solid chest, listening to
the thundering of his heart.

The Commander holds me firmly against him, supporting my
weight. Weakly, I put my palms flat against his chest and push
myself away from him. I sway precariously on my feet and he steadies
me immediately by holding my elbow. I give him a small, lopsided
smile, feeling woozy and not quite myself. Maybe the trauma of this
wretched evening has short-circuited a large part of my brain and
body. It feels like a powerful electric current is surging through
every nerve in my body, pulsing from my arm like a jolt of raw,
potent energy.

I look down in shock at my arm, at the large, strong
hand on my elbow, the source of all that heat and electricity. I
stare unwaveringly at that hand, my heartbeat quickening and growing
louder and stronger in my chest.

The hand on my elbow is warm, his grip firm not
crushing. That strange, comforting, electrifying warmth from his
hand spreads through my arm and floods down my body. My breath
catches sharply as Commander Ryleth moves closer to me, his fingers
shifting slightly on my arm as if he is tentatively stroking my skin.
My eyes widen as I start to shiver but it is not from fear. Being
so near this strong, powerful man, this tall, imposing Commander,
should have filled me with pure dread and terror. Instead, I
feel—safe. There is the strangest sense of familiarity and
security about this man. Why do I have the oddest feeling that I
know him, that I have seen him before?

My confusion and disquiet must have shown on my face.
The Commander sighs and says so quietly under his breath that no one
else can hear him, “I won't hurt you.”

My lips part but my throat feels too tight to utter a
single sound. I simply stare up at those deep, brown eyes, wondering
why I am not struggling and screaming in this soldier's grasp.

Even though we are standing in the middle of the town
square, flanked by grim-faced, black-uniformed soldiers, I don't feel
the hundreds of eyes on me. The muted conversations fade and the
whole town recedes from me as I stand facing the Commander, looking
up into his handsome face which seems so familiar. His frown and
intense stare makes him look stern and deadly, but his tanned,
chiseled face seems young, very young it seems for a Commander. He
looks to be only in his late twenties, younger than some of the
soldiers behind him. The sounds and ripples around us seem to be
just a distant backdrop. There is only the two of us in this tight,
silent circle, staring into each other's eyes, searching for the
answer to the unspoken question that hangs between us.

I know you, but...why would I know you?

The Emperor's shrill voice brings me back to the
horrible, doomed present.

I start and blink at the sea of grim, frightened faces
of the townspeople and the stoic faces of the Imperial soldiers. The
Emperor is gesturing wildly and croaking, “Commander! I
thought I ordered you to arrest her. Cuff her! Go on!”

Commander Ryleth exhales a heavy breath, his throat
moving. I glance up and see a muscle working in his jaw. He meets
my gaze and frowns, seemingly unhappy. But unhappy is an
understatement. He looks pained, his eyes conflicted and tormented.

Very slowly, his hand slides down from my elbow. His
fingers trail down my forearm, moving inexorably, intimately towards
my wrist.

His eyes hold mine as he takes my hand in his. The
gesture is so gentle and tender that I gasp. My breathing quickens
with my pulse. I tense suddenly as my fear spikes. I have seen how
soldiers manhandle criminals. With metal prods and sharp kicks to
the head, leaving the victim convulsing on the ground, eyes rolled
back, bleeding and foaming at the mouth.

I brace myself, expecting him to wrench my arms behind
my back forcefully to cuff me. Instead, he holds my fingers lightly
between his. Positioning both my arms out in front of me, he finally
drops his eyes as he slips metal cuffs around my wrists. He closes
his eyes briefly as he lets go of my hands. When he opens his eyes
again, he doesn't look at me.

Two soldiers help the Emperor mount his horse. “You,
you, you and you,” he wags his finger at the four soldiers.
“Escort me back to the Palace. And you, Officer, get back to
work! Don't play around with fire. You're liable to get
burnt—badly. Got it?”

Officer Goddot pales, looking very much like the ghost
he is. “Y-yes, Your M-majesty!”

The Emperor laughs as if he has just made a joke. “All
right. Show's over. Back to work everyone. I've got to return to
the Palace at once. There's so much work to do. An emperor's work
is never done. Busy, busy, busy.” He enunciates the last
three words deliberately, emphatically, loudly, waving one finger
high in the air. I suppress an almost irresistible, irrational urge
to roll my eyes and snort. It is blatantly obvious that he is
anything but busy, busy, busy.

The Emperor turns his horse around. Stopping abruptly,
he taps the side of his head, as if just recalling a trifling,
inconvenient matter that has slipped his busy mind.

“
Oh, Commander Ryleth?” The Emperor sniffs
over his shoulder.

“
Yes, Your Majesty.”

“
Our little prisoner seems to have an excess of
energy and fire. Perhaps being dragged behind your horse all the way
to the Palace will exhaust some of that fire. Yes? Cool down that
hot little head—and body, of hers. Oh, we're going to have
fun, so much fun!”

Without
waiting for Commander
Ryleth's
response, the Emperor cackles loudly and kicks his horse into a
gallop.
The
Emperor and his soldiers t
ake
off in a
cloud
of dust,
leaving
me in the care and control of his Commander
.

In the wake of the Emperor's thunderous departure,
Officer Goddot dusts himself off and picks up the branding iron.
Reasserting his authority, he waves the iron threateningly around,
pushing back the crowd. “Scram!” he shouts, the redness
returning to his face which had a minute ago been drained of color.
“Get away! Back to your hovels and dormitories! Go on, shoo!
Get the hell out of here! All of you!”

Some of the townspeople scatter, but a few press in
closer.

I hear my name being called, but Officer Goddot is
screeching and brandishing the iron in a dangerous, deranged manner
to prevent anyone from getting too close.

I try to twist around, but Commander Ryleth's large
hands are suddenly at my waist, lifting me up. I let out a cry
before I realize that he has propped me up on his horse.

Worried voices rise from the thinning crowd behind me.

“
Zoey...poor girl!”

“
...please...”

“
...he can't do that...no...”

“
Commander, sir!”

“
...please, sir, you're not going to drag her
behind your horse, are you?”

“
She won't survive...”

“
You'll kill her!”

Pleas continue rising and rippling all around me. The
sky is full dark now, and the few dim street lamps in the town square
don't provide enough illumination for me to make out the faces
clearly. The only face I can see is the Commander's.

His expression is grim, and when he pivots round to face
the crowd, there is an audible gasp and the people seem to shrink
away from him.

A black-uniformed Imperial soldier is to be feared.
Everyone knows that. We have all seen and felt the brutality of the
Imperial army. A Commander of the Imperial army is no doubt one of
the most fearsome, ruthless, deadly creatures, a creature without a
soul.

Commander Ryleth steps forward and a hush descends on
the crowd. “You heard the Emperor,” he says in a clear,
cold voice. “The Emperor has ordered her to be dragged behind
my horse. A few miles from here, where the terrain is rockier and
rougher and more punishing, she will be dragged in accordance with
the Emperor's order. If she is unable to endure the punishment and
perishes on the journey, her corpse will be delivered to the Palace.
The Emperor's word is law.” He finishes with a salute. “Long
live the Emperor!”

With that, he turns back and strides towards his horse.
Without looking at me, he leaps up behind me and pulls the reins. I
try to turn around but his muscular arms cage me in as he spurs his
horse into a run. I am flattened against his chest as we pick up
speed swiftly, hurtling out of the small town and into the wide field
beyond that is overgrown with tall grasses and weeds.

The noise and faint lights of the town fade behind me,
slipping further and further away from me until there is nothing for
me to hold on to. Over the Commander's broad shoulder, I can no
longer see the flickering lights of the town or hear the echo of many
distressed cries and pleas.