Naya powered everything she could into her legs, desperate to escape into the distant golden sand, but running on sand barefooted wasn’t easy, it kept shifting underneath her.

The footsteps inched closer until they were right behind her.

A heavy body crashed into her, throwing her to the ground. They rolled, sand kicking up around them as they wrestled for the advantage, but her opponent was too big. Locking her wrists behind her with one hand, she was dragged to her feet, and she found herself face to face with the beast.

Fury contorted his face and she scowled back at him.

How he had managed to chase and catch up with her so quickly from where he’d been standing? He hadn’t even been looking in her direction. He bellowed, the words harsh and heavy in a language she didn’t understand. He grabbed the fabric that covered her torso and rubbed his thumb on it, then flicked one of his wrists, jangling the copper rings.

The torso fabric tightened, shooting a sharp pain through her body. Naya pressed her lips together, keeping her whimper in her mouth refusing to acknowledge the agony.

He switched the Common Tongue, his voice as tight as his face. “Where did you think you were going? Do you think you know where you are?” His words turned to bellows. “Do you even know what’s out there?”

Before she could answer, he released her, his arm outstretched. She staggered backward, but when he bent his arm slightly, pulling his wrist in, the fabric tightened even more.

Naya gasped, her eyes watering at the pain.

“You think you can run from me?” His voice lowering with malice.

Naya spluttered, struggling to draw breath under the pressure of the fabric. The beast glared at her and inched his wrist in again. The fabric tightened until it was unbearable, like being caught between two stone walls eager to meet each other with her torso stuck in the middle—solid, relentless.

Naya clawed at her torso, trying to find a way to rip the damn fabric off, but there wasn’t any way to loosen it. A dull pop rocked through her torso, sending an intense pain through her body. Naya staggered, clutching her side. He’d just snapped one of her ribs.

She met his anger with a fury of her own, teeth clenched, still refusing to acknowledge the pain that tore through her. He pulled his wrist in again and another rib snapped.

She grunted through gritted teeth, staggering on the sand, only pure grit keeping her upright. He watched her, his jaw hard, his mouth twisted. “You cannot escape me. And if you try, I will punish you.”

He pulled in his wrist again.

Another dull pop rocked her torso, and this time Naya collapsed on the sand, a scream tearing out of her throat. The pain was beyond anything she’d ever experienced. Like a burning fire spreading through her middle. Even screaming was painful.

The next thing she knew, the beast was lifting her and putting her over his shoulder so roughly she screamed again. He walked back the way they came, each step jostling her and drawing muffled cries from her throat. He walked for ages—it felt like a much longer distance than she’d run but, finally, he slowed to a stop. He grabbed the fabric again, and fiddled with it, then slid her down off him to the ground.

A force pulled her in one swift motion to the dark gray stone.

Pain burst through her as she hit it, and she screamed again. Tears stung her eyes, forming at the onslaught of seemingly never-ending excruciating pain. But once she was against the stone, she tried to stay as still as possible.

The beast towered over her. “If you try to run again, I will break your hip. You do not need to walk while you’re here.”

Naya stared up at him with a blistering rage coursing through her that was ready to burst, and the tears clinging to her lashes made her even more furious. Dark amusement flashed through the fierceness of his expression, but before she could say anything, he stalked away.

She watched him, her chest heaving, but even breathing was painful. Trying to ignore it, she looked around her. She was in the same position against the rock that she’d been yesterday. The camp people were heading into their tents, some leading the horse-like creatures into the largest one.

As soon as they were inside, the heat intensified again, just like the day before. The stone heated, burning her, but this time she didn’t have the strength to hold herself away from it without putting unbearable pressure on her torso. So her skin burned.

Naya tried to hold in her screams, but when her skin melted against the rock, sticky goo smearing across it, the agony overwhelmed her. She let out a harsh, hoarse scream, and kept screaming as the stone seared her, burning more intensely than the fiery heat from the sun.

After that, the dizziness swam into her, and she was grateful to escape into its unhinged darkness even just for a moment, knowing the relentless sun and stone would continue to scald her while she lay unconscious.

CHAPTER NINE

When Naya woke again, it was dark and cool, but everything ached.

She inhaled sharply, the memory of the beast standing over her, his silhouette dark against the bright sun, stark in her mind. But she was back in the tent. She tried to relax her muscles. The pain in her torso had lessened a little, but only if she breathed shallowly. Blotches of swollen, blistered skin stretched along her arms and legs. They looked bad, but the black patches of burns on her arms and legs felt even worse. She’d had to have been against the stone for a while.

The fabric around her torso had been removed and her tunic cut open, revealing large, dark bruises just where she suspected he’d broken her ribs. A white substance had already been applied to some of them. Hearing a clink of glass, she lifted her head. The stout man leaned over bottles and jars scattered over the table.

Selecting one, he turned and approached her, staring at her torso with a thoughtful expression, before kneeling before her and opening the jar. He scooped up a brown creamy substance and gently spread it over one side of her, a cool, tingly sensation spreading over her skin.

Naya drew in a sharp breath, and the man glanced up at her. He stilled, but then resumed carefully applying the cool cream all over her bruises. He went back to the table and picked up a small box about the size of his hand. Holding it close to her skin, he held his head close to it and moved it slowly, as if listening for something.

Her insides shifted. Naya jerked in alarm. What was that?

The man was focusing intently so she lowered her eyes and did the same. Underneath her skin, something was moving. Maybe her organs, maybe her bones…. Thankfully, there was no pain, which was probably due to the cream, but it still felt unnatural.

Something within her locked into place, and suddenly it was easier to breathe. He moved to another part of her torso and did the same, locking something back together. The man relaxed and moved back to the table. Naya eyed him. He was most likely the healer for this camp.

After bathing her burns in a water solution that fizzed on contact, he swiped some of the sandy grime from her around her eyes. Once done checking her over, he rewrapped the fabric around her torso and began to pack up his bottles and jars into his bag.

“Don’t leave,” Naya blurted out. Her voice was hoarse, her throat sore and gritty, as though she’d been swallowing sand.

The man paused, turning to look at her.

“Please,” she croaked. “I know you tried to help me before. I should have drunk your… plant thing.” He watched her mouth, reminding her to slow her speech. “I cannot stay. I don’t belong here. I need to leave.”

The man watched her for a moment, a strange look in his eyes. Then he spoke, slowly and carefully. “No run.”