Chapter Seventeen
Ithought Eiresh had been fast when we fled from the black cat, before I learned it was Balis. This was closer to flying. I sat behind the druid, arms wrapped tightly around him, as the forest whipped by in melded shades of green and brown. Thank the gods Eiresh had a smooth gait, or this’d never work.
I clung to Balis’ tunic ‘til my fingers ached, aware of every inch of our body’s pressed together. In my head, I replayed the moment he asked me to stay over and over again. All the years I spent reading people, learning those little nuances that spoke a language of truth and lies, I never came across someone so flawless and enigmatic.
There’d been no hint of deception in that line between his brow when I confessed my fear. Nor in the laugh lines near his eyes when he smiled as I kicked at him. It all seemed so characteristically genuine, which made him infuriatingly irresistible and impossible to say no to. So here I was, ass aching, and two days behind schedule.
Still, it was na?ve to think the druid had any genuine interest in me beyond following orders. His charm was nothing more than a clever ruse to manipulate me into returning with him.
My growing attraction to the warrior aside, I had other reasons to be grateful for the delay. Though I held my tongue about it, I had to admit how cruel it would be to leave Eiresh behind. Especially knowing the fate he could face in the human provinces—captured and sold off to gods-knew-who.
Now, that considering look from Balis when he learned Sidelle had gifted me the horse made perfect sense. A wordless bond had settled in my bones—an intuitive connection that told me I’d protect the horse as fiercely as he would me. Maybe it’d been a part of her plan the whole time.
I tugged on Balis’ shirt, and he slowed Eiresh into a walk.
“Where are you taking me?”
Hopefully, it wouldn’t take all day to get there. My ass was already sore from two days of riding.
“It’s a surprise.”
“If this is your attempt at convincing me to stay, you’re off to a terrible start. I hate surprises.”
“Has anyone told you that you have a control problem?”
“No one still breathing,” I quipped.
His laughter, light and contagious, danced beneath my hands. “And you call me insufferable.”
I peered past the few trees that hugged the road, drawn to the wide expanse of the valley unfolding in the distance. A dusting of periwinkle and sunshine flowers dotted the grassy hills. Far beyond that on the horizon’s edge were great, round forested mountains.
“The least you could do is tell me what part of the province we’re in.”
He heaved a loud sigh. “I believe persistent would be a word I’d use to describe you,” he mumbled.
“Persistent. Insistent.” I shrugged. “You decide.”
He glanced at me over his shoulder, an amused spark in his eye.
“We’re in Star Hewn Valley, rider clan territory. This is where I was last assigned before I met Eurok.”
“How long ago was that?” I asked.
He seemed younger than Eurok, closer to my age, had I not known how deceiving their appearance could be. There was a youthful essence to him, a playful side that balanced his rigidity. Different from my sharp edges—more polished, controlled.
“About a thousand years ago,” he said. “I’m two-hundred and eight, if you’re wondering.”
“And yet, you don’t look a day over a hundred and ninety.”
Another rumbled chuckle drew my attention to my hands, and I fought the urge to splay them, to feel his warmth and the hard ridges of muscle beneath my fingertips. The impulse worsened when he gave the reins a snap and his stomach tightened with the effort, tugging at the taut rubber band holding together my self-control.
Everything about him seemed to draw me in now. The low, gravel timbre of his voice when we’d toy with each other, as well as the way he fussed over making sure I was comfortable before we started our tandem ride—to the point I snipped at him to just get on the damn horse.
Just one good fuck. That’s all I needed. It was reckless, foolish to be sure, but I’d gone all summer without the release that only came from completely losing myself to a mind-blurring orgasm. A dry spell—that’s what this boiled down to. Then he could return, Eurok none the wiser, and leave Eiresh and I to do whatever it is I decided in the morning.
For now, though, I wanted to have some fun.
I dared to spread my fingers over the planes of his stomach. It felt as good as I imagined, like gripping sheer strength itself. My touch moved upward, resting on the sculpted muscle of his chest. His body was tense with the effort of the ride, so it surprised me how easily he stirred. I swore a shudder rolled through him, a deep carnal purr, as he slowed Eiresh again.
“Keep touching me like that, princess, and we’ll never get there.”
“We wouldn’t want that, would we?” I smiled.
He subtly cleared his throat and adjusted himself in the saddle.
“Can I ask you something?” I asked.
He nodded.
“Will you be punished when you return without me?”
“That’s assuming I’ll go back without you, which I won’t.”
He spoke with such confidence that I almost believed him. He’d have to at some point, though. Wouldn’t he? Surely a warrior in the druid army would eventually be missed.
“I’m not refusing to return out of fear, if that’s what you mean,” he said.
That was what I meant—another attempt to understand his true motives. If he was unafraid of punishment, then why not give up already?
“The captain can be a hardass at times, but he isn’t unreasonable.” He peered over his shoulder, a knowing, mischievous glint in his bright eyes. “He rarely gives me anything I can’t handle.”
A thrill buzzed beneath my skin and I arched a brow, lost for words. Gods, the coiling throb between my thighs was hard to ignore. In reality, that was all I seemed to want—for him to handle me.
“Now, can I ask you something?”
“Sure,” I answered.
“What really made you become a bounty hunter?”
“That’s not a today conversation,” I said, removing my touch to lean against Eiresh’s hindquarters.
“According to you, we only have today.”
“Exactly.”
He went quiet before starting again. “It just… It seems like something has to happen for a person to decide to kill for a living.”
“Says the warrior meant to train me in combat,” I jested. I wanted to keep the mood light, but I was not up for being psychoanalyzed.
“My people kill to protect.” His tone wasn’t confrontational, but it was obvious he wouldn’t drop the subject.
Maybe it was knowing how temporary his companionship was, matched with his undeniable witty charm, that had my lips loosening. I was usually a locked vault when it came to the unpleasant details of my life. But like a moth to a flame, I couldn’t seem to help myself around him. He embodied this inevitable force, a presence I craved to lay my innermost self bare to.
“That’s what I do too.” I ran my fingers through my hair, pulling the heavy, dark sheet off my too-warm neck. “At least try to, anyway,” I mumbled.
The memory of Greggor’s face grated against my mind, accompanied by a dull ache rising from the depths of my stomach.
“I’m not without regrets, though.” I chewed my lip.
His ears perked. “Regrets?”
“Two actually.”
“And what would those be?” he asked.
I tipped my chin toward the sky, sunlight flickering between the leaves of the canopy above, and surrendered to his prying questions. “The man I should’ve killed. And the man I killed and shouldn’t have.”
Ironic that the person I regretted laying a finger on was the exact reason for my current situation. Everything I worked for, killed for, was gone. This had to be the gods’ idea of a sick joke—recompense for ending an honorable life after spending so many years dealing out such justices.
Balis was silent for a moment, as if trying to decide if he should ask the question dancing on his tongue. “Who was it you should’ve killed but didn’t?”
Damn it all, here we go.
“My father.”
He turned in the saddle to see my face. “I’m sorry,” he offered, brows drawn together. “Is he still alive?”
“No clue,” I said. I picked at my nails.
The air between us grew pensive. “Is he why you became a bounty–”
“Can we talk about anything else?” I interrupted, replacing my arms around his waist again.
I hoped my proximity would distract him. Instead, he glimpsed my arms, and I knew what drew his attention.
“Did he do that to you?” he asked, his voice low—measured.
Three days without it meant the tangerine oil had worn off. My scars were as visible as they’d ever been, glowing silver lines against my ivory skin.
“Not all of them.” I pulled away.
Many of the silver-white marks were from the rough fibers at the end of my father’s whip. But more were sustained while learning to protect myself—and others. Those I didn’t mind so much.
The tick in Balis’ jaw and the white-knuckle grip he held on the reins told me he had his own feelings about them.
“Besides,” I ran my hand down the satin soft hair of Eiresh’s flank, “I hate him for what he took from me—not the marks he left.”
His abuse drove me to find the courage to leave, to become stronger. What he stole only weakened me—left an inescapable void that no amount of revenge could ever stave.
Balis inclined his head, asking the silent question.
I let out a short breath. “My sister.”
He snapped around again, but I wouldn’t meet his eye. If he wanted the story, he would have to excuse me from any emotional display. I refused to cry over the one thing I spent years moving on from. That vile, drunken bastard would get no more tears from me.
“Your father took your sister’s life?”
Mysilence was all the answer needed. “I’ve never spoken of her.”
He reached for my hand, then placed it around his waist and held it there, tracing small circles with his thumb against my skin. I pressed my cheek against his back, allowing myself to focus on the warm comfort of his touch, instead of the unpleasant memory I wished no longer had so much control over me.
“What was her name?” he asked after a while.
“Zoe,” I whispered. “She was sixteen.”
Her face, soft-featured and beautiful, our mother’s almond-shaped blue eyes, and the same mouth and nose as my own, flashed behind my fluttering eyelids as I tried to keep the tears at bay. No more. Crying helped nothing.
Balis didn’t ask any more questions about her. He either had no interest in learning more or he understood I didn’t want to delve deeper.
So, I omitted how when I was eleven I arrived home to find my sister on the floor, clutching her stomach after Father tried to beat the unborn child from her belly. Nor did I talk of how that night, while he thought I slept, he gagged and bound her. Then dragged her out the door, murmuring something about extra mouths to feed.
A while later, Balis sucked in a breath, breaking the melancholy silence. “So tell me about this dagger of yours.”
Thank the gods, anything else.
“My father was the royal foreman, and when Momma fell ill, he sometimes brought my sister and I to his job sites.”
“That’s where you stole it?”
I nodded, practically watching the wheels turn in his head.
“Do you know the name of the man you took it from?” he asked.
“No, I was young. Didn’t really pay attention to things like that. I just knew I didn’t like him.”
“Don’t you find it strange that your dagger looks so similar to those swords?”
“I mean, yeah. It’s strange, I guess.”
He scratched his jaw. “You said your father was the royal foreman?”
The inflection in his tone piqued my interest. “Yes. Why? What are you thinking?”
“What does it matter?” He arched his brow. “You’re leaving, remember?”
“Smug bastard.”
“I do believe I’ve heard those two words used to describe me once or twice. Though never from such a spectacular mouth.”
I rolled my eyes, and he laughed.
“You think your dagger has the same effect as those swords back there?” he asked.
I let out an exasperated sigh, irritated that he refused to answer my one question to his thirty. “No idea. I’ve never stabbed a Vylandrian with it. Would you like to volunteer?” I asked, placing my chin on his shoulder.
“I’ve been stabbed enough for one day, thanks.”
“You’re no fun.”
“Hmm, let’s see about that.”
He kicked Eiresh into a high-speed run again. I flailed, grasping for the fabric of his shirt as we took off.
The remaining bit of forest faded, and the soft, rolling hills grew into harder, jagged ledges. For the next hour, open plains stretched as far as I could see until the landscape changed once more. We rode through a narrow path carved between two solid rock faces—a ravine.
“Where are you taking me?” I demanded again.
“You’ll see, we’re almost there.”
Further up the road, we lowered ourselves out of the saddle. Balis hitched Eiresh to a tree while I rubbed at my sore muscles. My legs felt as if they had a permanent bow to them as I started walking, but they eventually loosened as I followed Balis down an embankment through some red pine trees.
He held a finger to his lips and waved me forward to crouch with him behind a fallen tree.
“Outsiders aren’t permitted here, so we have to stay out of sight until they leave.”
“Until who leaves?”
I grinned at the mischievous light in his eyes as he shifted the branch blocking our view. Half a dozen druids stood in a staggered four-by-two formation on the shore of a vast lake. Waves kissed the white sand, gleaming in every color imaginable, like liquid rainbows.
The druids, clad in a mixture of leather and hide fabrics, each wore a waist piece that hung to the ground. Their elaborate headdresses were adorned with cascading braids and feathers. Black paint spread over their eyes, and their smooth, sculpted chests were bare, decorated with markings I assumed held ceremonious meaning. Awestruck, I leaned in closer as they projected a chant over the water.
Balis leaned in close to whisper in my ear. “These are the Opalis Shaman.”
The caress of his breath sent welcome chills over my skin.
“They trek here once a month to perform the traditional dance of our creation and bathe in Star Hewn Lake.”
I gazed over the calm waters that lapped at the druids’ feet. Vibrant shades of red, sunshine-yellows, and cool hues of blue, green, and violet. I held my breath as they pounded a fast-tempo beat on their drums while the others began to move.
While we watched the creation dance from the safety of the forest, Balis explained the story of the day Erezos called on the gifts of the heavens—the rainbow and the aurora. And how they met in this place to create the Star Hewn lake, and from it the first druids were born.
He went on to explain how, afterward, the rainbow went south and the auroras north, leaving the druids to live and look after the whole of Vylandria.
As I listened to his story, the shaman moved in powerful, masculine unison—a series of short, tight movements. Their chant, like thunder echoing over the waves, was a language I’d never heard but whose meaning I could feel in my very soul. I found myself drawn in by their beauty, their dedication to the ritual, and the strength of their presence.
“Where will they go once they leave?” I whispered.
“Each clan has a set of Opalis Shaman who travel across Vylandria, offering their services. When they finish here, they’ll move on to the next village.”
Balis sat back, leaning against the fallen log, and stretched his arm along it. He patted the ground beside him, offering me a seat.
“Might as well settle in. We might be here for a minute.”
“They’re not why we’re here?”
He smirked, as if it were obvious. “Oh no, they’re a bonus.”
“So why are we here?” I sat down.
He settled his large tattooed arm around my shoulder, a cunning grin decorating his cheeks. “We are going to bathe in the Star Hewn.”