"I don't know! Please, have mercy!" the woman squealed, her voice trembling.
"Tell me where he's headed, or I'll kill you," I growled, tightening my grip on her arm. "Your death means nothing to me. I swore brutal vengeance on him and his household-"
"I'm not his wife!" she snapped, cutting through my curse. My eyes darkened with confusion, bewilderment clouding my face. She pressed on, voice sharp. "He took me. I'm his prisoner, not his wife."
I froze, disappointment crashing over me as I released her. Darah rushed forward, enveloping the woman in her arms. "Oh, my child," she murmured. The woman was a beauty, though gaunt and unkempt, her suffering under Dakor's cruelty etched into her hollowed features.
"Give me a horse-anything to ride," I said, turning to Roders, desperation raw in my voice. "I'll pay in full. He's wounded, weak. He can't ride far."

"A horse?" Roders exclaimed, shaking his head. "My steeds are with stewards for trade, gone for weeks, maybe months."
"He's slipping away!" I snapped. "He's bleeding, fading. I can catch him now."

"He's gone, son," Darah said, her gaze soft but firm. "Let him go."
"No," I growled, turning to trek into the night. Their voices rose in unison, a strange chorus.
"You can't outrun a horse on foot!" Roders called.
"I'll take my chances," I said, sparing them no glance.
"Wait!" Darah shouted. "Let him go, stranger. Please."

I pressed on, Dakor's shadow my only prize. Then a new voice stopped me cold, sharp with indignation. "You'll die, brave man." I turned to see the woman, arms crossed, her green eyes blazing with defiance. She looked at me like I was nothing. "The drylands beyond these fields will strand you. How far can you walk to the next settlement? Stay, wait for the stewards' horses. Or take your chances and perish."
Her voice stirred a memory-Keiya's soft, graceful tone. But this woman was different: bold, daring, unafraid to challenge me. Keiya was tender, respectful, never raising her voice or defying me. This stranger was her opposite, yet her fire intrigued me.

"Please," she said, her hands flaring mockingly. "Spare your life, champion. If the drylands don't kill you, that madman will."
Her words stung, undermining my skill, testing my patience. Darah tried to intervene. "It's late. The roads are perilous. Stay, rest, eat. Travelers may pass tomorrow. And if that madman returns, we'll need you. You could set a trap."
Darah's soothing words pierced my resolve. "He never comes back," I sighed, frustration heavy. "I'll stay for your kindness, nothing more." The woman scoffed, her disdain clear.

"Ale would help drown my distress," I said, striding back to the cabin.
"Of course," she mocked, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
"Come, child," Darah said, guiding her while cautioning her sharp tongue. I clenched my jaw, fury simmering. This woman-Dakor's supposed captive-was defiant, infuriating, and utterly compelling.
Settling into a wooden chair, my frustration doubled. What was I doing, sitting idle while Dakor fled? Darah returned with a jar of ale, and I poured a cup, gulping deeply, my eyes fixed on the woman. She no longer trembled, devouring her meal with a hunger that betrayed her ordeal. Darah dabbed her face gently with a cloth.
"Too much appetite for someone who cost you food, Darah," I said, my sarcasm biting as I slammed the cup down.
"Who'd have an appetite beside that dog?" she shot back, her disgust for Dakor mirroring my own, fanning my hatred.
"So, what were you to him? A tool to ease his stress?" I smirked.
"Heavens!" Darah interjected. "Let her eat in peace."
"It's fine, Dada," the woman said, unfazed. "Children's chatter amuses me with a good meal."
I laughed, her wit sharp and infuriating. "Children handle their toys well. I'm surprised an 'adult' clings to a man who treats her like less."

"I didn't choose him, soldier," she snapped.
"Didn't seem so," I said, picking at my fingers, my tone barbed. "Weeks were enough to plan an escape. Instead, you chose romance in a barn, stealing these people's food."
"You know nothing of Dakor," she said, her voice low and venomous.
"I know more than you can fathom," I growled.
"You think you're a hero. You're not," she said, her words a curse.
"Hero? No. But I won't be judged by a girl's shallow thoughts. I am what I am."
"I don't like you, young man," she said, her tone mocking.
"I know what I am, woman," I shot back, emphasizing the word to put her in her place.
"Tell yourself that, boy. Prove it to the swine," she spat, her words dark.
"Perhaps I'll prove it to you first." I yanked my poniard free and slammed it into the table with a resounding thud.
"Enough!" Roders barked, his voice cutting through my fury. My rage cooled, but not entirely. Nothing could quell the storm in my heart except proving my worth.
"I'll rest now, Dada," the woman said, glaring at me before rising. Darah guided her upstairs, murmuring, "A bath first."
I smirked. "A bath would suit her." She didn't glance back, her steps steady.

Roders left, leaving me alone with my thoughts and a fresh wave of frustration. I'd been unfair, taking my anger out on her. She wasn't why Dakor escaped-that was my failure, my hesitation. I could've chased him, but something held me back. My heart, not their words, had chosen to stay. Why?

I was stranded in a stranger's home, my mission galloping away with Dakor. How long would I linger here? And this woman-her defiance, her insults, her fire-why did they intrigue me? Her dark green eyes, her unyielding spirit, were captivating, yet I'd learned beauty wasn't enough. Keiya's loss had taught me that.

But the truth was undeniable: I stayed not just for Roders and Darah, but for her. She hadn't flinched when I stabbed the table. Her courage was maddening, compelling. My curiosity to unravel her mystery burned, despite the lessons of my past.

How could I be so swayed by a stranger after Keiya's betrayal by fate? Reason had always served me better than passion, yet here I was, letting emotion cloud my resolve again. This was a dangerous pull, threatening to tear me from my vengeance.
I sank into the chair, sipping the ale, letting my thoughts dance. Fate had me at its mercy once more, and I could only wait to see its next move.