THE SUNDERING

ALORE

Did the man think she didn't know what he was? Alore walked away from the stone, heading deeper into the trees. Her guard, Taig, waited for her there on the cusp of the city. A surly man. A dangerous man. Her first words made him stiffen, though her voice was purposely, cruelly upbeat, a connived lilt in her tone. One of her great pleasures in life was getting a rise out of the man. Sometimes, like now, he made it too easy.

"He's here," she said, her voice granite.
Another threat, another reason to hate who she was. Death filled the air, a beacon that drifted from her fingertips to the ashen sky.

Immediately, Taig pushed away the edges of his jacket to expose the gun belt and other attached weapons hitched to his side, showing her just what he was capable of. He was a man of war, cunning and capable, and her only ally in this far-reaching game she was bound and determined to win.

So protective, her famed, lethal-minded soldier. His protectiveness, though, was unnecessary. Alore hid a triumphant grin as his face faltered and he pushed his fingers away from the killing instruments at his side.

It didn't really matter how she taunted and prodded her soldier to react. The stranger hadn't bothered to follow her back through the woods. She almost wished he had. At least it would have given them both some action. Taig was already ruffling at the idea, ready to sink his chomps into the man, ready to destroy the foe.

"The soldier is here? He made it?"
Taig said, displeasure edging the gravelly tone of his voice.

She nodded in response to his question, eyeing him warily. He huffed, no doubt affirming what he'd already suspected.
Most of them got through. It was only a matter if they survived the journey and stay alive, as most of them burned to a deadly singe while on the invisible, branched out path.

She knew what churned through his mind at the moment, and judging by his loud grumble, he'd soon follow the sour expression on his face by readiness and action. Taig loved pain, the pleasure of seeing her enemies bleed out. To see the enemies' chest rise with one last puff of air, deflating permanently. Filling his palms and covering his fingers with a rebel's lifeblood, made him chuckle with the darkest kind of mirth. He was cruel that way. Compassionless and determined to succeed, he did his duty religiously. Killing to keep her safe. Killing because he could. Killing because the horror pleased him.

He acted as her companion, her only one, in a land not fit for either of them. Most of the time, that was enough.

"We should leave. You can't be here when he finds you," he said, his jaw gritted tight as the words snarled out.

"I can't go. You know that."

Taig jerked his head toward the trees. Now he was in full-on protector mode.

"He must have greater skill than those sent before him," he said. Alore nodded slightly.

"The others were useless wastes of men." His fingers drifted back to his weapons, gripping them with capable ease and no qualm, a reassurance to her he could do his job without regret. "Not that it'll do him any good. He'll soon be dead."

"No matter what he's capable of, I handled the situation."

"Did you? I think, my queen, I should apprise that on my own. No one deserves your mercy."

He stalked towards the monument on the other side of the park, but she followed, halting him before he reached the line of trees. His body went tight and tall, hating that she stopped him.

"Wait," she repeated.

She could hear his jaw and teeth grinding. Daringly, he said her name, a hushed reverence.