Chapter Thirteen
Their pace was slow, almost annoyingly so. If he’d been with anyone else, Rion would have blown them off and pressed forward.
But he was with Selina. And she was caring for him in ways only Saoirse had ever done.
Selina insisted they stop every few miles to check and clean his wounds. He kept telling her he was fine and that they could wait, but the female refused to listen. He didn’t push her away, either.
Rion watched the way her face scrunched, the way she tilted his arm to inspect the wounds, and how carefully she spread cooling salve across the still open holes along his arm. She wouldn’t let him carry anything, no matter how much he insisted.
Did she really care or was that part of her act, too? She’d already admitted to being sent to kill him. Was it too much to hope that she might disobey her High Lord? Had it even been a command or was it merely a suggestion?
She hadn’t struck out at him while he’d slept. She hadn’t tried to poison him. And she hadn’t finished him off the other night when she’d had the perfect opportunity.
He’d been watching her for days, trying to figure her out. He’d wait before pursuing anything, just to solidify her intentions. Get to know her better as a comrade and see the female behind the mask.
They’d been on the road for three days and had only discussed the mission, the weather, and their next destination. Selina pointed out all her marked locations where warehouses manufacturing the poison had been found and destroyed along with small villages that had been targeted by the rebel forces. Their presumption was that the villages had refused to join the rebel cause.
The dots along her map were heavy in the north around Nàdair and outlying villages. They hypothesized that the rebels intended to hit those very places before they’d been discovered.
Caravans had been caught in transit further south, some by accident, others by warriors scouting the land.
But two things were perfectly clear.
First, Alec wasn’t bluffing. The rebel operation was just as large and concerning as he’d made it out to be.
Second, it was painfully obvious their main operation centered in the south. Likely in Whiteridge, despite Selina dismissing their involvement.
But the female had found something else that had caught her attention, which was why they were trekking north instead of south. It was too far for his liking. He wanted to get this mission over with, but as reluctant as he was to admit it, he needed time to heal, too. Whiteridge would likely end in bloodshed, and he needed to be in top form before the confrontation.
Rion sat on the edge of the bed, watching Selina carefully as she re-wrapped his bandages. His blood ignited with every brush of her fingertips and his heart betrayed him, beating too fast. He knew she could hear it and was thankful she never commented.
“I doubt news of what happened in Fernsworth has reached the village, so we shouldn’t have to worry. There’s an elder there in charge of things who should have probably faded decades ago.”
“And you think they’re the ones involved?”
Selina shook her head. “Another name was mentioned in a coded letter. From what I gathered, he’s the one in charge of their financials. He’s been smuggling funds and materials through their underground tunnels.”
“What do you want to do if we encounter them?”
“Nothing. We need to lie low after Fernsworth. If we hit them again in a main network, they’ll know we’re on to them and might go underground.”
“What about the civilians who’ll suffer if we do nothing?” Because that poison wasn’t headed for Nàdair. Not yet.
Aching sadness swept across her features. He hated that look. He’d do almost anything to never see it again. “Sometimes sacrifices are necessary.”
Rion’s jaw clenched. He wanted to argue, but reality was cruel. She was right: If they hit them again before discovering the leaders, they might disappear and it could be years before they resurfaced. With how the poison had already progressed, he didn’t want to imagine them getting more time to perfect the formula.
“When we find the one responsible for all this, I’m going to rip him apart.”
“Not if I get to him first.”
Rion smirked at that. Selina glanced at her hands and Rion waited for her to continue. She sat close. So close her floral scent was affecting his reason. His plan. “About what happened at the manor—”
Rion came back to himself as if she’d dumped cold water over his head. After days of travel, he was hoping she wouldn’t bring it up. His face burned. “I was out of line.” He stood. “It won’t happen again.”
Rion crossed the room, separating himself from her, and stood before the small fire. He watched the flames trying to flicker to life beneath the embers.
“I apologize.” He heard her stand as well. “It wasn’t my intention to push your boundaries.” Her voice was soft and sensual. Alluring.
“It’s fine.” He couldn’t turn to look at her. Didn’t want to.
“Instincts can be . . . volatile. If you’d rather us use a different ruse, I’m sure I can . . .”
“It’s fine,” he repeated.
“If we have to . . . repeat what happened in the office,” she paused and his face burned at the thought, “are you going to be okay with it?” No. No, he certainly wouldn’t be. It was too real for him. Everything he wanted and might not be able to have. It’s what he wanted to do to her now. To turn and run his hands through her hair, to pull her in for another kiss. To press his body against hers and listen to the sound of her breath in his mouth.
“I’ll deal.”
“Okay.” Silence again.
“When we get there, they’ll see that I’m hurt. They might attack before we get a chance to search anything.” There was no hiding the soft scent of blood on him. The wounds were almost closed, but he needed another day, maybe two before his Fae blood completely sealed them shut.
“Not with me around.” He glanced back and found her seated once again, leaning back on her hands. “I can play protective lover. Pull on their guilt and pity.” That didn’t hurt his pride at all. He swallowed it down.
“You won’t be doing much shopping there.” They’d be lucky to find an open inn given how small it was.
“Oh, I didn’t plan to. I’m saving that for Whiteridge. I’ve only visited once and the shoes are to die for.” Rion groaned. “What? I didn’t make you carry that much last time.”
“It was the most boring experience of my life.”
Selina tilted her head back and laughed. His blood sang in answer. “It’s the best way to get the layout of the streets and see who wanders them.”
“I can easily get that without carrying a dozen bags on each arm.”
“Yes, but then you wouldn’t be able to communicate. Not that you do anyway. I’ve got it covered for both of us. Besides, you’ll still be injured before we get there.”
“I will?”
“Of course. We’re going to play it up and make them underestimate you for as long as possible.” He wasn’t sure that was the best of ideas. Her eyes flickered down to his arm and her gaze softened. “How’s it feeling?”
Rion flexed his fingers. “Better. It won’t hinder my movement.”
“Does it still hurt?” Concern laced her tone.
“I wouldn’t want to block with it yet, but that doesn’t mean I couldn’t.”
She nodded and studied the worn rug on the floor. “It’ll take us at least a week to get to the city down south. I was wondering . . .” she chewed her lip. “Would you—would you be willing to train me?”
His brows lifted. “Train you?” She nodded and he scrunched his forehead in confusion. “You seem like you know enough already.”
“I do,” she said a bit defensively. “But the way you move is just . . . different. And you’re impossibly fast, even by Fae standards. I just thought—” she huffed. “Never mind.”
Rion noted the hint of red on her cheeks. “Sure. Why not?”
She turned. “Really? It’s not some family secret?”
He chuckled. “No. It was something developed by my great grandfather. He passed when my father was just a child, so I never knew him.”
She moved closer, joining him beside the fire. “Was it your father who trained you?”
An old pain blossomed in his chest. “No.”
She waited. “Who did?”
The pain spread and Rion gripped the area as if he could stop his heart from bleeding. He wondered if it would ever heal. “A—” Rion stopped himself. “It doesn’t matter. He’s been dead for years.”
Selina sat in the small chair. “I’m sorry to hear it.” More silence. “I lost my father when I was young. It was stupid. He went on an assignment to confront a group of humans attempting to settle in Brónach territory. They caught him with iron, a weapon I think. It stopped his magic long enough for them to put a blade through his heart.” She clenched her fists. “I’ve never forgiven him for being so careless. Who lets themselves get killed by humans?”
“A lot of Fae, apparently.” Their history with the humans was a bloody one. He imagined her uncle was likely the one responsible for seeking retribution. Human settlements never lasted long.
She looked at him, as if waiting for Rion to share his own story. But Caol wasn’t someone he wanted to talk about. Not tonight. Perhaps not ever. The remembrance of that night made his soul bleed. If he ripped open the wound now, he might not be able to close it again.
Selina glanced toward the bed. “I suppose we should try to get some rest. We’ll be there in the morning.”
“It’s that close?” She nodded. “Then we should wait until it’s dark.”
“You don’t want to make another grand entrance?”
Rion shook his head. “It’s a small village.” He glanced out the window to the rain peppering the glass. “And if the rain keeps up, they won’t be able to pick up my scent.”
She shrugged. “They probably wouldn’t recognize it anyway. Not many from these small villages get to travel all the way to Nàdair.” She leaned forward. “What’s your plan?”
“You’re letting me decide?”
She shrugged. “I’m interested enough to hear it.”
“We find one of the unused tunnels and move in while it’s dark. Get what we need and get out.”
“That’s no fun.”
“We can save the fun for Whiteridge.”
“Fine.” She eyed the bed, then grimaced. “I’m not laying on that.”
Rion followed her gaze. “I’m sure it’s clean.”
“It looks like someone died there.”
“They probably did.”
She gaped at him. “Would you sleep on it?”
He inclined his head. “I’m taking the floor, so it doesn’t matter.”
“I’m requesting a different room.”
“Don’t, it’ll just draw unwanted attention. If you want new sheets, go down to the closet and take some. No one will ask questions.”
Selina placed her hands on her hips, glared at the bed, then disappeared into the hall. Rion sank into the chair and let his shoulders relax. His arm ached, but whatever salve Selina put on his wounds eased some of the discomfort. The bruising had shifted to a yellowish color, but it still hurt more than he thought it should. Not that he’d ever experienced vines shooting straight through his arm before, an experience he never wanted to repeat.
When Selina opened the door again, her arms were full with an entire stack of sheets, two fluffy blankets, a pair of new pillows, and two steaming tarts. Lemon, from the smell of them. “The caretaker said I could take whatever I wanted.”
“I’m sure you didn’t give him any incentive.”
She waved a hand. “The key to a pleasant life is making others love you.”
Rion rolled his eyes. “You can’t buy everything.”
“Sure I can. What’s the point of money if I don’t spend it?”
“Do all these extras come from your personal funds or the crown’s?”
“Does it matter?”
He shrugged. “Just trying to figure out how to write up the reports when we get back. I can’t imagine the treasurer being happy with you listing bribery for fresh blankets as a necessary expense.” In fact, he was pretty sure the male would blow his top.
“Not that it’s any of your business, but my family is very well off. I’m more than capable of paying for my own things.”
“I thought the earrings were a gift from your uncle?”
“They are. He manages the family funds. My father owned a bunch of land before his passing and my mother didn’t want the headache of it all. We sold several properties and have enough finances for the next few generations to live in luxury.”
“Why sign up to be a warrior then?”
She gave him an incredulous look. “Can you imagine me playing the piano and attending fancy brunches with the other ladies of the court?” No, he couldn’t. Not unless she carried a hidden knife in her belt meant for sinister things.
“I imagine they’d have quite the time with you.”
She popped a piece of the tart into her mouth. “Don’t act as if you don’t enjoy the finery Mr. I’m-the-son-of-a-High-Lord.”
“Fair point.” Alec hadn’t banned him from using the family vault. He supposed he should be grateful for that at least.
Selina tore the sheets from the bed, doing her best to avoid the stains, remade it, then plopped down on the rickety mattress. She fluffed the pillows and sighed in relief. “So much better than the ground.”
Rion snorted, then fanned out his set of blankets close to the fireplace. She tilted her head to watch him. He tried to ignore her but caught her gaze and stilled.
She was reclined back on the bed, her legs dangling over the side. Her bronze hair had fallen so that part of it covered her throat while the rest splayed out above her head.
Selina’s throat bobbed and he thought he heard her heart skip when his heated gaze traveled down her body. Rion imagined touching her again. Imagined the feel of her soft curves against his hard body as he coaxed sensual sounds from her perfect mouth.
She cleared her throat and sat up. “You should probably rest first, with the injury and all.” He didn’t look away. Rion waited instead. For the invitation. For her to make a move. He just needed one indication. Just one and he’d be across the room faster than she could blink. “You can have the bed.”
His voice was husky as he said, “I’ll sleep on the floor.”
“There’s no reason for you to. We won’t be sleeping at the same time anyway.” She stood, made a show of brushing off her clothes even though there wasn’t anything on them, then walked around the bed toward the fire. “Best to take advantage while you can.”
Look at me.
She didn’t and after another moment, Rion crossed the room and fell onto the mattress, trying his best to wrestle his instincts into submission.
He failed miserably.
Sleep came faster than he expected, but he was plagued with shadows from his past. Demons that hunted in the recesses of his mind. Creatures and beasts and beings that prowled through the darkness, tugging at every vulnerable corner in his subconscious.
A presence hovered nearby. Too close. Too real. The monsters . . . A hand pressed against his chest and he gripped the slender wrist before twisting and flipping the individual over and pinning them with his hips.
His magic whipped out and danced around the Fae beneath him, grazing against their skin, daring them to move. His hand gripped their throat, but he didn’t remember putting it there. He held, but didn’t squeeze, as if he knew—
Wide amber eyes stared back. She didn’t move. Didn’t fight. His panicked gaze scanned her hands, searching for the weapon—
Nothing. He looked over the mattress. Nothing there either. No blade. No poison.
Rion met her gaze again then sat back on his knees and ran one hand over his face, trying to steady his ragged breathing. “I’m sorry.”
She didn’t sit up right away, as if afraid the movement might set him off again. “You were having a nightmare.”
Rion didn’t meet her gaze. He blew out a breath instead. He’d almost snapped her neck. “It was nothing. I’m fine.” But his voice shook.
“You didn’t sound . . . fine.”
He scooted from the bed and walked to the fire, staring at the glowing embers, willing them to chase the remnants of his own monsters back into the shadows. “Get some sleep.”
Silence for a breath. Two. “You weren’t out long.” Was that pity in her voice?
“I won’t be able to go back to sleep anyway.” Not after seeing Caol’s body again. His father’s. The guards’.
“All right. Do you need—”
“I’m fine,” he repeated. It was a mantra he’d repeated his entire life. Because he had to be fine. There was no alternative. Not without Saoirse. But maybe . . . maybe if Selina let him in—no, not tonight.
She waited another moment before curling up on the mattress. Rion glanced back to see her drag the heavy blanket over her shoulders. He might have imagined her burying her face into the very pillow he’d used. Might have sworn he saw her inhale his scent.
But those were likely just dreams too, simply waiting for the opportunity to shift into nightmares.