Daughters of the King |✓|

Chapter Thirty-Five

"Come now," hissed Tomoko, their shaved head poking out the back of the truck.

I stepped out of the trees, my boots eating up the ground in a few fast strides, the dirt crunching beneath me. I winced, hoping Bjorn wouldn't hear.

We were in the outskirts of town. We'd walked to the nearest road to meet the truck. It was the closest any vehicle could get to our camp. I'd followed, trailing behind in the shadows so as not to be seen.

Tomoko reached out with their hand and pulled me quickly into the back of the truck, before I could be spotted out front. Bjorn was in the front passenger seat, and there was a window looking into the back, but it was shut.

They slammed the doors and almost immediately after, the truck lurched and drove on, so I knew I hadn't been seen.

"Thank you," I said, taking a seat among the other passengers.

Old King Bastian actually looked excited, almost bouncing in his seat.

"No problem," Tomoko said, as they descended into the spot at my side and buckled in. They were the one who'd helped me arrange all of this a couple days ago, making sure Bjorn wouldn't find out.

I was so anxious, I was shaking, but Tomoko smiled reassuringly, their eyes such a bright blue it was hard to believe they were real. "Everything's going to be fine. Don't worry. You'll get your soldier back."

I returned the smile, but I knew it wasn't convincing. "We'll know for sure soon enough."

"Have some hope," they said.

"Hope is a dangerous thing," I replied.

"Yes, but isn't it nice?"

This time, I smiled for real. "I suppose it is."

I glanced around me at the small group of people that had volunteered to come along. All of them were here for the sole purpose of helping me get back the man I loved. It seemed like a silly thing to care about during times of war—but at the same time, it wasn't silly at all, was it? It was all we had left. It was built into our blood, crucial to our humanity—to our very existence.

Love was important.

"Why have you all come?" I decided to ask, whispering so the front wouldn't hear—so Bjorn wouldn't know. I wanted him to find out when it was too late.

"I'm going home," piped Bastian stupidly. We all ignored him.

"This is the father of your child, right?" one of the volunteers replied.

"It is," I said.

"What could be more important than that?"

"In these dark times," Tomoko said, "we must cherish the good that is left."

"You saved us," added one of the older ones. The one I was most surprised was coming. "Bjorn is a good leader, and he's looked after us well for many years. But you've done more than that. You've changed our lives."

"I didn't mean to become a leader," I said, because I felt it was important that they know that.

"Maybe not," Tomoko said, "but we've chosen you."

I didn't know what to say. There were no words. I'd meant everything I'd said to Wolfe; I could love others even if they were different than me. I could help them without assuming power over them.

And in that moment, we were like a family in the back of that truck. A unit, a force. All of us stronger together. Even Bjorn, who was a harsh and difficult sort of person, and yet who still stood by me—by everyone in the camp—in his own way.

I wouldn't be willing to sacrifice any one of them—wouldn't be willing to sacrifice even a single living person.

Life was the only gold we had left. Whatever was going to happen now, I wanted it to happen without anymore wastefulness.

...

We stopped to switch drivers some hours later, and when the doors to the back swung open, I was instantly met with a bearded face, intelligent eyes, and the familiar fangs.

"Oh, hell," Bjorn cursed when he saw me. "We're going back. Now."

"We can't go back," I argued. "We'll never make it to the meeting point on time if we do, and they'll surely kill Gunnar, probably just out of spite."

"I don't care," he said, climbing into the back and coming straight for me. "I value your life above his."

His hand latched onto my wrist, dark as a scar against my white skin, and he attempted to pull me to my feet—pull me out of the truck. But Tomoko was quick. They launched themselves between us, shoving Bjorn off me. Bastian cowered into his corner, frightened by the commotion.

"It's too late," Tomoko said. "We're not going back."

He opened his mouth to argue, trying to push past Tomoko's bulky frame, but I cut him off.

"You can go back if you want to, but we're going," I told him, rising to my feet. "So take a seat or get out. We have a long way to go."

He shoved Tomoko out of his way and dropped into one of the seats, looking evidently frustrated, leaving the rest of us to get settled for the remainder of the journey.

I fought not to show it, but I was growing more and more worried for what was to come. I had no reason to suspect things would go badly, but I also had no reason to think they would go well. I knew my mother, and she always had a trick up her sleeve.