"Yes, Sir," the men say.
"I'm sorry, Sir," Henrick says. He's far too pale and his jaw clenches in pain as he tries to talk. "We were already behind in production. There's no way we'll make the deadline before winter hits."
Fen nods sharply, but offers no other words. I walk over and lay a hand on Henrick's. "Just take care of yourself and heal. The rest will sort itself out. It always does."
Henrick looks startled by my touch. For that matter, so does Fen, but once again he chooses not to contradict me in front of others. Interesting. I'm sure we'll have a lively conversation about things later, once we're alone.
Just thinking about being alone with him makes my skin hot. I played it cool, acting like seeing him naked and touching his body didn't affect me. But lord, that was my biggest lie ever told. I can't get the image of that man out of my head. Or the feel of him off my skin. His scent alone makes me want things I shouldn't want. I still have to live with six other princes. I can't fall for Fen, not now. And besides, he's made it clear he has no desire to be King. He doesn't even want me to pick him. I'm setting myself up for heartbreak if I give my heart to a man who doesn't want it.
The men place Henrick on a cot on wheels and attach it to a horse, then begin guiding him slowly to town.
Fen faces those who remain. "We have a fortnight or two until winter hits. Once that happens, we will not be able to harvest trees until spring thaws the land. This wood needs to be used for fire, heat, cooking, and building, throughout the entire kingdom. It is our primary export. If we don't meet our quota, people everywhere will suffer. Now get back to work and make it happen. I'll take a look at the machine, but if I can't fix it right now, then cut and sort wood by hand like we did before my brother invented the cutter. In the meantime, I'll talk to Ace about potential design flaws."
There are grumbles as Fen walks over to the machine in question. A few men return to their work, using axes to cut the tree trunks into splintered wood or smaller logs. But the men who originally confronted Fen stand and glare at him as he works on the machine. I turn away to scan the rest of the clearing, walking amongst the logs that are piled and ready for distribution, and the trees still needing to be cut. The scent of pine and freshly cut wood fills the air, mixed with something more vinegar-like.
Sunlight filters through the tall canopies of the trees and I walk towards the woods, away from the repetitive sounds of steel hitting wood: chop chop chop. Towards the sound of running water. I'm hoping to find a stream where I can wait while Fen does his work. Something about those men makes me uneasy, and I'm beginning to regret coming with him, but it's important I know what kind of work this realm does. If I'm stuck here for all eternity, I'm going to make it work for me, which means making it better.
My dreams of being a lawyer and helping people that way might be over, but that doesn't mean I can't still affect change in the lives of those around me. And that's just what I intend to do, whether the princes of hell like it or not.
After a bit of searching, I find the stream. I can still hear the men working, but water trickling over rocks muffles the sound. I sit on a boulder in the shade of a sad looking willow tree whose branches extend over the river, dipping into it.
I watch a small red bird jump from rock to rock. This place is peaceful, serene, and—
A branch snaps behind me.
I spin around to face the intruder. It's the man with the red beard and flannel. The man who looked so angry at Fen when we arrived.
I stand and step back as he approaches me, his body invading my space as he breathes into my face. His breath smells of alcohol and his eyes roam over my body in a way that makes my skin crawl. "So you're the little bitch they brought to decide everyone's fate? What makes you so special, huh?" He brings his dirty hand to my face and grabs my chin so hard it hurts.
I shove his chest, but he doesn't budge. Of course not. He's a demon. A vampire. Strong. Too strong for me. "Get your hands off me," I hiss at him through clenched teeth. "You will not like what happens if you don't."
"Oh? What are you going to do? Tell the big, bad prince on me? You don't know who my family is, do you?"
He leans in close to my face and extends his sharp fangs, then sticks out his tongue and runs it over my cheek. "Do you taste as good as you smell, I wonder?"
I try to fight him off, but he pins me against the willow tree, his thick, sweaty body pressing against me until I can't breathe. His teeth slide along my neck, nearly piercing my skin.
I have no weapon, so I pull a branch off the tree and swing it at him, hitting him in the head.