Chapter 6 #2
“Not when fate decides otherwise.”
“I reject your claim,” she said.
“Too late.”
“What?” she gasped. “You haven’t claimed me.”
He shrugged. “It’s as good as done. I can scent your need from here.” His eyes glinted. “And you smell good enough to eat, lass. Which I’ll most definitely be doing.”
“Keep dreaming.”
Tavish’s smile grew. “I wager you’ve soaked through those trews.”
Fire leapt in her eyes. “You’re a pig!”
Their voices climbed higher, the sound of two quarreling, hot-tempered dragons rising to the smoke-blackened beams. I opened my mouth to interject, but they talked over me.
Portia shoved back her chair and shot to her feet. “If you won’t help me, then I’m leaving right now!”
Tavish’s chair tumbled backward as he matched her stance. “As I told you before, we’re happy to give chase.” A crafty look appeared in his eyes, and his voice slid lower. “Is that it, lassie? You want to be caught? I don’t mind indulging you in that sort of play.”
She balled her hands into fists. “You’re a disgusting swine.”
“Aye, you’ve said that. And you’re in sore need of a firm hand.” He lifted one of his. “Good thing mine are so large. Reckon I’ll be busy curbing your temper.”
Her eyes went wide, and rage trembled in her voice as she asked, “Are you threatening to spank me?”
“Oh, I don’t make threats, woman. I make good on my promises.”
Enough. I stood, holding up my hands. “We should discuss our options.”
Tavish looked at me, then hooked a thumb at Portia. “Aye, the option is putting yon princess in her room and locking the door until she discovers some sense.”
Portia grabbed her knife from the table and extended it in Tavish’s direction. “Do it, and you can kiss your nutsack goodbye, dickface.”
He frowned. “I understood half of that.”
“No one is locking up anyone,” I said.
Portia stared at Tavish like she dearly hoped his head would explode before her eyes. “You’ll never keep me against my will. I’m King Cormac’s daughter, and no prison can hold me.”
Tavish looked smug. “Albie’s manacles can hold anything, including dragon princesses.”
She swung a furious look toward me, her fingers tight around the knife handle.
I raised my hands even as I longed to strangle Tavish. “They’re not my manacles. I bought them off a witch. They’re spelled to hold a shapeshifter.”
The flames in Portia’s eyes danced higher, orange ribbons licking over her emerald irises. “If you attempt to put manacles on me, I’ll keep your bawbag in a jar. Do you understand that word?”
“No one is putting manacles on you, Princess.”
She held my stare, the promise of violence in her eyes. Then her expression changed, determination replacing fury. “I’ll just go back to the stones. Step through them and go home.”
My stomach lurched. “That could kill you.” I kept my voice calm, reasonable. “I told you, most people don’t survive passage through the stones. You made it once by some miracle. Attempting it again…” I shook my head. “The odds aren’t in your favor, lass.”
Her face paled, but she lifted her chin. “I have to try.”
“No,” I said firmly. “You don’t.”
She looked ready to defy me. Ready to try anything. But she hadn’t shifted. Tavish had invited her to try it upstairs, then teased her when she didn’t. And, still, she hadn’t attempted to take shadow form and flee.
Why?
Did she truly not want to?
Or was she unable to?
“What you need,” I said carefully, “is a chronomancer.”
Her brow furrowed. “A what?”
“A witch who manipulates time. They’re rare enough to be unheard of, but I happen to know where to find one.”
Tavish’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing. Still, the look he shot in my direction let me know he was unhappy.
Portia searched my face, doubt huddling in her eyes. “You’ll take me to this chronomancer?”
“Aye, lass, you have my word.” I gestured to the window, where the afternoon sun already descended toward the horizon. “But it grows late, and you’ve had a trying day. We’ll make the journey at first light. I vow it.”
She studied me, clearly looking for the lie.
There wasn’t one. I’d take her to the chronomancer, and then we’d see what fate had in store for the three of us.
“You need a good night’s rest,” I continued. “In the guest chamber, where you’ll have your own bed.”
Silence filled the Hall. Tension held. At last, Portia lowered her knife.
“Okay.”
I stared, racking my brain for the word, but I couldn’t place it. I’d read every book I could get my hands on—and a few I’d risked my neck to own—but the strange word had never appeared in any text. A glance at Tavish revealed he was just as confused.
“O…K?” I repeated, testing it out.
She gave her head a little shake. “Um, I mean, fair. Deal?” She made an exasperated sound. “I agree.” She jerked the knife back up. “But I get the guest room. With my own bed.”
I nodded, pushing my spectacles higher on my nose. “Aye. Deal.”
After another moment, she lowered the knife.
“We’ve settled our first quarrel,” I said, relief pumping through me. I turned to Tavish. “I think this calls for dessert.”