Chapter 07 #2
“Without a doubt. She would rip my throat open if she could see herself cuddling me. As I am still well and alive, I conclude she must not be conscious.”
Semras could almost hear the mocking smirk on his lips. He really thought that she was a wild beast, unable to show restraint.
“Besides, look at her,” Velten continued. “The poor witch is exhausted. She looked so pale earlier; I took pity and let her ride with me so she could get some rest … even if the wild creature will never show me any gratitude for my mercy.” He sounded amused.
The witch gritted her teeth. He found her distrust of him—a witch hunter—funny.
A saddle squeaked; Sir Ulrech must have shifted in his saddle. “She would do well to show you more respect,” he said.
“It is not respect I need from her. She may act as she pleases, as long as she does what I expect from her.”
“We do not know if she can be trusted, or if she will even prove to be useful at all. How did you even learn about her?”
The inquisitor gathered his words. “Do not be mad at me.”
“Velten,” Sir Ulrech growled lowly, “do not tell me you asked Nimue.”
Semras paled. It sounded like a witch’s name—not one she recognized, but she hadn’t yet met every member of Yore … Had she been betrayed by a coven sister? The possibility disquieted her.
“I said do not be mad.”
“She just gave birth!”
“She agreed. I kept watch over the little one while she worked, and all ended well. Do not get angry on her behalf, var Hesser. You know how touchy she gets when other people decide for her.” Velten ignored his knight’s disgruntled mumbling. “As for whether this witch of mine will be useful …”
Semras fought the outrage threatening to force her eyes open. Mine? Mine, he dared say?
“… I hope not.”
Oh great. That bastard had dragged her from her home only to wish now she’d be useless. At least he didn’t want her with him any more than she did. Whoever forced him to bring her along must have been of higher rank than the inquisitor. Maybe it was that cardinal he kept complaining about.
Semras lifted her eyelids just enough to get another peek of what was happening.
Shifting in his saddle again, Ulrech rested his hand over the pommel of his sword.
“I ceased questioning your logic long ago, my lord. You must know better, as usual, but I will still keep my eyes on her.” His gaze fell on her once more.
“If she gives us trouble, I will handle it. The sword-bearers are too excitable to be trusted around her.”
“There, finally! You agree they are a liability.” Velten readjusted his stance in the saddle, dragging her closer to him. His warmth enveloped her, putting a stop to her shivers. “Was that hard?”
The knight looked away. “I will … admit it was unwise of the cardinal to call on them for you. This sort of favouritism is bound to displease your … um, enemies.”
“Just say his name already. Inquisitor Cael Callum will not appear just because you speak it, despite years-long evidence to the contrary. The meddlesome prick.”
“I did not mean offence. I know things have been tense between you two since Nimue’s—”
“Never mind that.” Velten swept aside his worry with a wave, obscuring Semras’ vision until his arm fell again.
“We were bound to drift apart. Everyone knows an inquisitor’s worst enemy is another inquisitor.
I am used to dealing with petty politics, but let’s hope this will not catch his attention.
He has always been better at this game than I. ”
Ulrech hummed. “I doubt we would be so lucky, not while travelling with so many of the Confraternity’s sword-bearers. He must be aware of our movements already.”
“I suspect as much too. We have to thank the cardinal for that as well.” Velten groaned. “I still wonder what favour he pulled to get Maldoza to trail me like a dog. Do you think he promised him money? How much does it take to bribe a Venator knight?”
“More than what I am currently compensated with to endure you, Velten,” Sir Ulrech replied with a rare grin. “I should go negotiate with His Eminence for more.”
Semras couldn’t help it. Silent snickers shook her shoulders at the knight’s ribbing.
“Hilarious, var Hesser. If only the boy knight had half as much wit as you have humour.”
The hand on Semras’ back moved to glide down her hair in a surprisingly gentle caress. She tensed up but made no movement to stop Velten. She couldn’t, or he’d know she was awake.
Sir Ulrech glanced back at the column of horses following behind them. “You should not disrespect Sir Themas so openly, my lord. He may lack experience, but he is still a Venator knight.”
“So you keep telling me, but I have yet to witness it.” Velten twirled a strand of her hair between his fingers, pulling lightly at the roots.
Oh …
That felt … surprisingly pleasant. His soft tugging flooded her mind with a tingling sensation. It relaxed her in a way she hadn’t expected.
Ulrech fell silent for a while. When he spoke up again, it was in a low, measured voice. “I know he joined us only a few days ago, but is there any foundation behind your skepticism? Do you think perhaps he fell under the witch’s spell?”
“From what I have seen, ‘fell’ he most certainly did,” Velten replied.
“He calls her by her given name. Can you imagine the scandal if this gets to the ears of the Confraternity? But this is not the work of a spell, except the one unknowingly cast by all beautiful women.” The inquisitor let go of the strand to pass his fingers through her hair.
If Semras didn’t want to know so badly what his deal was with Themas, she’d have hexed him for taking such liberties. Even if … even if it felt so, so good.
Perhaps she should make him pet her hair some more in exchange for her forgiveness.
“Or perhaps not so unknowingly, in her case,” Velten continued.
“The witch does have her charm and knows it too. It matters not. I do not trust him, and his weakness will not be tolerated to fester much further.” He paused, then sighed.
“Out with it. You are thinking so loudly I can almost hear you speaking already.”
“I do not mean to be presumptuous—”
“Speak, I said.”
Ulrech looked at the inquisitor’s hand in her hair, then at his face. “Spoken like a … um, jealous man, my lord.”
Velten snorted, and Semras felt oddly offended. He hadn’t found the idea so ridiculous when he was flirting with her the previous night.
“Nonsense. It has nothing to do with jealousy. It is … how do I say it …? There is something about him. I cannot quite put my finger on it, but I am not buying his facade nor his overly polite tone. There is just no fire behind what he says. Time will tell, but you know I am rarely wrong.” His fingers kept running through her hair in a pleasant caress.
“I am half convinced he is the cardinal’s spy. ”
“If you say so.”
“Have I ever led you astray?”
The gentle fingers turned into an icy grip over Semras’ nape, digging too harshly into her skin to be a mistake. He knew she was awake—and listening.
He knew.
A cold sweat fell down her spine. When did he figure it out?
“Everything will be well, Sir Ulrech,” Inquisitor Velten said, voice light and airy, “as long as you listen to me.” His grip on her neck tightened like a claw.
Inquisitor Velten was addressing his knight, yet his words weren’t for him.
They were a warning to her.
The air bristled with the calm that came before tempests. Semras could feel it building up beneath her skin, like the prickling sting of a thousand wasps. They were riding toward trouble.
It first manifested itself through the birds—or rather, their absence. Their singing abruptly stopped once the company came across a fork in the path. A fallen tree had been moved to block the older trail, and Inquisitor Velten guided the group onto the other, fresher one without pausing.
Then, the horses grew increasingly restless, resisting as their riders tried to lead them further into the forest. Insects began buzzing incessantly, and the whizzing noise grew louder and louder and impossible to ignore the further they went.
Sword-bearers started slapping themselves, trying to bat the bugs away.
One guard cursed out loud. “‘Didn’t used to be so bloody difficult to cross this Void-taken forest. What’s the matter with all the bugs?”
Still riding sidesaddle on the stallion, Semras glanced behind, doing her best to ignore Velten. A futile effort, considering how she had to grip his shoulder to avoid falling forward while doing so.
The damned man snickered. “Am I in your way, witch?”
She ignored him.
At the head of the column, the inquisitor opened the ride, followed closely by Sir Ulrech.
The knight was leading his rose-grey mare in an irregular pattern, trying to evade the groups of flies sticking around him.
Behind him, the Venator guards did the same, with just as little effectiveness.
Far at the end of the straggling line, Themas rode alone, keeping the rearguard.
Dark clouds of insects swarmed everyone except the witch and the inquisitor—the bugs were steering clear of the half-fey and its uncanny otherness.
Another sword-bearer grumbled his assessment. “A Bleak curse, I bet.”
Whispers of aggravation ran through the group. Those who didn’t join in were too busy trying to control their steeds to keep the line advancing.
Velten followed her gaze back. “Oh, great. Halt!” Nudging her shoulder, he gave her a grin. “Time to earn your bread, witch.”
Semras glowered at the inquisitor. “You ate it, remember?”
“Barely a bite, which means I am at least partially owed your help. Are you trying to cheat me out of a proper Bargain?”
The witch clenched her dress until her knuckles turned white. “You know very well I am not a fey. You will not trap me by playing with words.”
“If you cannot help, just say so. You are, apparently, just an herbalist,” he said, taunting her.