Chapter 8
Mistel
A sea of faces, yet not a soul to know.
Warm inside the new tent Cole had found for Mistel, she’d slept in the next morning and missed joining the procession near the boys.
A long and lonely day’s travel through the snowy foothills of the Chowmah Mountains left her fingers numb and her cloak stiff with ice.
Bart, at least, was looking better now that he had access to the food the army horses were fed.
When the Tsaftown army finally made camp that night, Mistel wasted no time warming herself by the nearest campfire and gulping down a bowl of stew. Once her stomach was full and she was thawed enough to move, she set off in search of Cole.
She finally found him and Kurtz outside their tent, circling each other with no weapons in hand. She stopped just beyond the edge of their camp, where she could see but not be seen.
What were they doing?
“It depends how they’re hooked to his belt,” Kurtz was saying, holding up a metal ring adorned with trinkets. “If there’s a clip, you either have to unlatch it or cut the fabric loop it’s attached to.”
Mistel cocked her head. A lesson in…stealing keys?
Kurtz pinched the top of the ring, demonstrating how the metal flexed open. He clipped it to his belt and waved Cole forward. “Come and get them, eh?”
Cole stepped closer and swiped for the keys. His fingers made them jangle.
Kurtz spun away, shaking his head. “Wrong end, featherbrain. Try again.”
Biting back a grin, Mistel watched as Cole tried again. This time he gripped the right part of the clip, but when he attempted to slide it free, he yanked so hard he nearly pulled Kurtz on top of him.
“If you wanted to dance, you could’ve just asked, eh?” Kurtz shoved Cole off. “Gentle, lad. You’ve got to be light about it. You’re not pulling the reins of a runaway horse.”
Cole tried again, and this time he managed to remove the keys, though his hand hit Kurtz’s side.
“I felt that, I did,” Kurtz said.
Again and again, Cole tried. And every time, something went wrong. He stumbled or touched Kurtz, the clip snagged, or the keys slipped from his grasp at the last second. Mistel smothered a laugh behind her glove.
Then, at last, Cole managed a clean swipe. He spun away, thrust his hands above his head, victorious, and the trinket slipped from his fingers and clinked into the snow.
Kurtz sighed deeply. “So close!”
Mistel couldn’t hold it in anymore. Laughter bubbled free, loud and unrestrained. She sauntered toward Cole, shaking her head. “How do you even know the man will be wearing his keys on his belt?”
Cole straightened, his face flushed as he met Mistel’s gaze. “Well, uh…Kurtz said—”
“That’s where I’d carry my keys, if I had some,” Kurtz said.
Mistel smirked. Of course he would say that. “You’re not wrong, most of the time, but not everyone is that predictable.” She plucked the fake keys from Cole.
“Hey, give that back.” He lunged after her.
Mistel darted out of reach, her grin widening. “If you don’t want to get caught, there’s more to this than simply fishing keys off a belt.” She circled him like a prowling cat, trailed her finger lightly over his shoulder, the back of his neck, down his arm, along his waist.
Cole flinched, twisting toward her with a sharp intake of breath, hands lifted as a barrier. He fought back a laugh. “Stop that.”
“If he’s got sense, he’ll tuck his keys here.” Mistel flicked a finger against Cole’s chest as she continued to circle him. “Or he might keep them in a deep pocket here.” She brushed her hand over his thigh. “Or here.” Her hand brushed the back of his waist.
“Hey!” Cole spun to face her and made another grab for the fake keys, but she danced back, grinning—until something on his wrist caught her eye. Her grin faltered.
A beaded bracelet. Her bracelet.
Mistel’s breath hitched, the stolen keys suddenly forgotten. “Nice bracelet,” she said.
Cole glanced down, then ran his hand across the beads, as if only now remembering it was there.
Those gorgeous hazel eyes of his lifted to hers, and in that breathless span between heartbeats, their entire history of knowing each other passed silently between their gazes.
Their first dance. Edera’s death. His investigation.
Him moving her into Castle Armonguard. Singing together.
And that delicious kiss in the herb garden when everything had felt perfect. Safe. Real.
Kurtz crossed his arms. “I don’t see how this is very helpful.”
“True, Master Chazir,” Mistel said, snapping back to the present. “And maybe you’re right, and whoever he is will keep his keys on his belt.” She hooked her finger around Cole’s rope belt and gave it a tug. “Even so, you’re not checking properly.”
“Properly?” Cole asked.
“You have to look for them first,” she said. “Not every jailer advertises his secrets on his belt.”
With a dramatic flourish, she spun around, putting her back to them long enough to hide the keys in a fold of her tunic. She turned back and set her hands on her hips. “Well? Can you spot where I’ve stashed them?”
Cole scanned her quickly, his gaze darting down her baggy tunic, past her waist to the side pockets, then back to her waist, but when he reached for it, she danced back and laughed.
“Not so fast,” she said. “You’ve got to be sure before you make your move, or you’ll end up looking like a fool.”
Cole narrowed his eyes. “I am sure.” He reached for her lower pockets, then shifted at the last moment for the bulge at her belt.
Before he could touch her, she twisted out of reach and wagged a finger at him. “Wrong.” She unfolded the bulge to reveal nothing but an extra twist of fabric. “Sometimes it’s not where you think.”
Cole scowled, and his gaze fixed on the opposite side of her waist. Ahh, he’d spotted them. Lunging forward, his fingers brushed the top edge of her belt and caught the wire clip. He tugged the fake keys free just as she spun around and grabbed his wrist midair.
“Much better,” she whispered.
Kurtz dragged a hand over his face and groaned. “Looks like you’ve got it, Cole. Just try not to get pickpocketed yourself.”
Mistel laughed and let her fingers slide past his wrist, over his hand, and down his fingers before she let go. “Could be you’ve got the hang of it.” She tilted her head and grinned. “Though if you like, I don’t mind giving you a little more…practice.”
Yes, it was definitely a good idea that she’d followed Cole.
No matter what the knightling thought, it had never been clearer to Mistel that he needed her.
She would set up her tent here tonight so she wouldn’t be separated from him again on the long day’s ride.
Even if it meant falling asleep in her saddle, she’d be right where she belonged. At his side.