Chapter 4
Mistel
Maybe barging up on Cole while he was crossing swords hadn’t been Mistel’s best idea. She kept smiling, pretending all was going to plan.
His flushed cheeks and sweat-damp hair suited him. She rather liked the warrior look.
“Wha-what are you…? Where did…? How can…? Mistel?”
Mercy. The boy could barely speak. “Glad to see me, are you, my knightling?”
His brow wrinkled as his gaze traveled down her tunic to her trousered legs and stopped at the men’s work boots on her feet. His freckled cheeks darkened another shade.
“No,” Kurtz snapped. “This is no good, it’s not. You can’t be here.”
Mistel arced an eyebrow at Kurtz, whose fierce expression wilted under her stare.
“Master Chazir,” she said. “How nice to see you again.” She glanced at the third man, who looked closer to Cole’s age.
“Since these two have completely forgotten their manners, I suppose I must introduce myself. I’m Mistel Wepp, Cole’s cousin, and a member of his band. ”
Cole’s eyebrows shot up.
The third man bowed politely. “Pleased to know you, Miss Wepp. I’m Derby Wenk.”
My, but Master Wenk had the reddest ears she’d ever seen. Or perhaps that was simply from the exercise and cold. “Apologies for interrupting this riveting exhibition of masculine prowess,” she said, “but I really need to speak with Cole. Do you mind?”
“Not at all,” Master Wenk said.
“Thanks for the practice, Derby,” Cole said.
“I can see you have your hands full.” Master Wenk bowed again. “Good day, Miss Wepp.”
“Mm-hm.” As the young man walked off, Mistel turned her attention to Cole. “I thought it was high time you knew I was here.”
“You followed us from Armonguard,” Cole said.
Mistel gave him her widest smile. “I did.”
“On foot?” Cole asked.
At that, she winced. No point fibbing. He’d find out eventually. “No, I borrowed Bart.”
Cole’s hazel eyes flew wide. “You stole the king’s horse?”
She waved one of her hands. “He knows all about it. It’s fine.”
“What happened to ‘It was fun and all, but I’m better off without you’?” Cole asked.
Lands! Good memory on this one. He would bring that up. “I overreacted. Said all the wrong things. But I can admit when I’m wrong. And I was.”
A little furrow wedged between his brows. So cute. “I didn’t want to hurt you.”
“I know. You were just trying to do the right thing. But so am I. And now I can be part of your band.”
“Mistel,” Cole said, “there’s no band.”
“You on the lute,” she said, “Kurtz on the tabor, and me on vocals and tambourine. I explained it all to the king. He understands completely.”
“No,” Cole snapped. “You can’t be here.”
Well, that tone was unpleasant. “Oh, you’re welcome, Cole, because yes, I did follow you all the way from Armonguard. Yes, I left everything behind. And no, I haven’t yet frozen to death from sleeping under trees, thank you for asking.”
He stepped closer, his voice dropping lower. “This isn’t a game, Mistel. You can’t just, just barge in here and expect to—”
“To help you?” She crossed her arms. “You’re welcome for that, too, by the way.”
Kurtz snorted from behind them. “You’ve got spine, I’ll give you that, but an army is no place for a lady.”
Mistel turned her smile on Kurtz. “Good thing I’m no lady, then, Master Chazir. I’m a songstress. Surely even you can appreciate the skill I’ll add to your little band.”
Cole groaned and ran a hand through his hair. “This isn’t like playing for the king’s wedding. People could die. You could die.”
“You think I don’t know that?” She softened her voice. “I’ve faced danger before. I know how to take care of myself.”
“You’ve never faced this. You’ve never been surrounded by soldiers, never had to…” Cole broke off. Swallowed and glanced away.
He could be such a worrywart. She sighed and lightened her tone. “You’re concerned. I see that. But you need me. Deep down, you know it. Who’s going to distract the crowd while you’re sneaking around doing…whatever you’re supposed to be doing?”
“I don’t need you to distract any crowd,” he said.
“You play better when I’m with you,” she said. “And admit it—you miss me.”
“I don’t miss you,” he said, a little too quickly.
Mistel tilted her head and widened her grin. “See, now I know you’re lying.”
Cole released a deep breath. “If something happens to you, it’ll be on me.”
Mistel stepped closer, her voice falling to a whisper.
“Nothing’s going to happen to me, Cole.” She tangled her fingers with his gloved ones, and even with the leather layer between their skin, tingles ran all the way up her arm.
“And if it does, it won’t be your fault because I chose to come here. ”
For a moment, they stood toe to toe, staring at each other. Oh, how she missed looking at those hazel eyes. Those freckles. Those lips.
“Miss Wepp.” Kurtz’s voice broke the moment. “I’ve just now bloodvoiced the king, I did. He said he insisted you make yourself known to us. Now that you have done so, I insist you sit yourself on that stump right there until Cole and I can talk with the king about all this, eh?”
“Oh, no.” Mistel folded her arms. “You’re not meeting about me without me there.”
“Oh, yes, we are,” Kurtz said. “The king has given me permission to arrest you, if need be.” He grinned, his short beard dimpling around the corners of his mouth. “And if you think I won’t enjoy every moment of that, then you don’t know me at all, eh?”
Mistel huffed, slipped her hands around Cole’s arm, and squeezed. “I stay with Cole.”
“Do as he says.” Cole tugged free from her grasp, the loss of his touch suddenly cold. He followed Kurtz through the tents, leaving her behind.
Sit on a stump? While they decided her fate? She wasn’t some damsel to be managed. She was Mistel Wepp: songwriter, performer, and perfectly capable of taking care of herself.
She kicked the stump a few times, circled it until she’d made a trench in the snow, then climbed up to try and spot Cole over the tops of the tents.
That was the extent of her patience. She jumped down and strode in the direction Cole had gone, intent on finding some way to prove she belonged.