Chapter 24
Chapter
Twenty-Four
PIERCE
With his earth magic, Teal was more in tune with beasts than the rest of us. He rubbed his mount’s neck with a gentleness he seldom showed. “The horses can carry us now.”
Flynn, who’d spent the past hour complaining about walking, rolled his neck and stretched his shoulders. “Haven, you’re riding with me.”
Did he realize he’d used her name?
We’d lost Haven’s horse in the wyvern attack. The panicked animal had run away. Now she’d have to ride with one of us. She drew her golden eyebrows together and asked, “Why is that?”
“It’s my turn.”
“Your turn? You’re taking turns? What exactly do you think I am that you can claim turns?”
A smart man would hear the warning in her voice. No one ever accused Flynn of being smart. “Our shield.”
She stopped short, allowing her hands to settle on her hips as she glared at him. I could almost sense the sharp retort on the tip of her tongue.
I winced on his behalf.
“Pierce, may I please ride with you?”
“No sharp retort for Flynn?” She’d surprised me with her restraint.
She shook her head. “Undoubtedly, it will come to me later.”
I found myself nodding slightly. I understood that particular frustration, though I rarely admitted such things aloud.
“It’s the worst,” she continued. “I’ll think of the perfect response, and it’ll be too late to use it.”
“It’s still my turn.” Flynn’s mouth narrowed, his usual cockiness replaced by genuine irritation.
“Not happening.” I couldn’t control my smirk as I helped her into the saddle.
Flynn’s eyes narrowed, either in disappointment or at my expression. “You can’t just ignore the rotation,” he muttered, but the fight had gone out of his voice.
“I am not a thing to be traded or shared. I’m not part of a rotation. There are no turns.”
Grayson gave Flynn a disgusted look before shifting his glare to Haven. It wasn’t her fault Flynn was behaving like a child denied his favorite toy.
She pretended not to notice his ire.
Grayson’s scowl deepened, and he climbed atop Caspian, urging the gelding to a trot. “We don’t stop until we reach the foothills.”
That meant we’d be riding most of the night.
He glanced over his shoulder at Haven. “Try not to slow us down.”
I mounted behind her, wrapping my right arm around her waist, and we trotted after him. The rolling hills stretched ahead of us, dotted with clusters of pine that cast long shadows in the afternoon light.
“He’s such an asshole,” she whispered softly. Then she stiffened. “Did you hear that?”
Suppressing a laugh took real effort. “Grayson?”
“Who else?”
Her scent, a heady mixture of cinnamon and morning dew on fresh-cut hay, teased my nose, and I had to fight not to bury my nose in her golden hair. “He’s under a lot of pressure.”
“To keep me ground under his heel?”
Exactly that. Carron had warned Grayson to break Haven’s spirit. If he didn’t, she was dead.
“He’s trying to keep you alive.” We all were.
“Grayson wants me alive? He has a funny way of showing it. I nearly died in the pit.”
I tightened my hold on her, drawing her closer to my chest. “How did you survive?”
She didn’t fight against my hold, but she didn’t relax. Tree trunks had more give than Haven. “My secrets are my own.”
“Even when they may put you in danger?”
“Even then.”
“I’m guessing it has something to do with the way you called a sword for the fight with the wyvern.”
She remained mum.
Keeping her safe was paramount. But I’d watched her enough to know that more questions would get me nowhere. She was stubborn and independent and incredibly vexing. “Where did you learn to fight?”
“Grandmother hired tutors.”
Her easy answer came as a surprise. “Tutors in Grimswood?”
“Grandmother has the sight, and whenever she caught a glimpse of my future, I was fighting. She made sure I knew how. I’m good with a sword. Great with a dagger. Terrible at aiming spears.”
“What else did you learn?”
“Languages. History. Politics. Etiquette.”
“Etiquette?” I imagined Haven in a gown at a state dinner. She’d look beautiful, but she’d call someone—most likely someone of importance—an asshole. The corner of my mouth twitched.
“That amuses you?” She sounded softer, almost vulnerable. As if I’d hurt her feelings. “She swore I’d need it someday.”
“Have you?”
“Not yet.”
We rode without saying more. The clop of hooves filled the silence between us, punctuated by the occasional whinny from one of the horses. Above us, a hawk circled, riding the wind.
I liked silence. We were old friends. Until now. Now it itched. I said the first thing that came to mind. “Tell me about your family.”
“Tell me about yours.” Vexing. So very vexing.
“You first,” I insisted.
“You met her.”
“Where are your parents?”
She twisted in the saddle and searched my face. She must have liked what she saw, because she answered me. “My mother was taken to the front when I was a baby. I never met my father. I don’t even know who he is.” Her expression was flat. These were old wounds, long since scarred over. “You?”
“My parents died when I was young.” The words came without inflection, practiced.
I’d learned long ago to strip emotion from facts.
Silence stretched between us, filled only by the steady rhythm of hooves on packed earth.
I should have stopped there. Should have redirected the conversation.
Instead, something about her quiet attention loosened my tongue.
“I still miss them.” The words slipped out, unbidden and too revealing.
“I’m sorry.” She sounded sincere.
My uncle had murdered them. Only luck had saved me. I’d accepted a last-minute invitation to spend a few days with Grayson’s family. On the night the assassin killed my family, I was tucked safely in my friend’s guest room.
“There are thousands of orphans in Grimswood.” Her voice was soft, almost gentle. “I was lucky. I had my grandmother.”
Her grandmother was terrifying. Who taught a girl to fight?
Women were to be protected. I winced. We’d failed abysmally in protecting Haven.
My chest tightened with the heavy weight of our failure.
Since we’d ridden out, Haven had proved she could protect herself better than most men I knew.
She’d also protected us. She’d saved our lives. We owed her.
“What are you two whispering about?” Flynn, who’d slowed his horse so he could ride next to us, stuck his nose where it didn’t belong.
“Nothing.” I didn’t hide my irritation. Haven was staying with me. He couldn’t have her.
“Our parents,” she told him.
He whistled air through his teeth. “The murder?”
“Murder?” Haven twisted her head to look at me. “You left that part out.”
“We’re all entitled to our secrets.”
Her eyes widened. “Do you really believe that?”
I met her gaze. “I do.”
She gave a brief nod, then the stiffness in her shoulders eased slightly. That tiny softening felt like an enormous victory.
“What are your secrets, Haven?” Flynn, annoying as a horsefly, still rode next to us.
“Mine to keep.”
“I’ll trade you. A secret for a secret.”
“I’m not interested in your secrets.”
He pouted. “What do I have that you want?”
“Everything is a transaction with you.”
“You want something for free?”
“I don’t want anything from you.”
The wind rustled through the trees, and somewhere in the distance, a bird called out—lonely sounds in the vast emptiness between the settled lands and the foothills.
“Not even your freedom?” Flynn asked.
“Don’t offer what you can’t give.” There was a sadness in her tone that pierced my heart. Was that what she wanted? Her freedom?
The painful twist in my chest was unfamiliar.
Unwelcome. I’d spent years building walls to keep emotions at bay, yet somehow this strong, intelligent, vexing woman had found a crack in my defenses.
The rational thing would be to rebuild the wall, to distance myself before this … whatever this was … went any further.
But I wasn’t sure I could do that. She’d burrowed too deep. Without even trying. If I had the power to free her, would I? She’d bewitched me, and I wasn’t ready to watch her walk away.