Chapter 25 Lore #2
In Faerie, the four horsemen hosted an annual hunt to welcome in the spring. The prey represented winter, the horsemen and their chosen hunters represented spring, and a mock battle ensued between the seasons.
Basically, its purpose was to welcome in the harvest season.
Once the hunters captured their prey and the spring was victorious over winter, there was dancing and drinking and lots of frisky behavior because somehow a bunch of horny villagers made the crops grow more plentiful.
Briefly, I wondered if that was where the expression sowing his wild oats came from, then dismissed it. Those were musings for another time.
As my attention drifted back to the Fae who still stood across from me, I realized he’d been watching me closely.
His eyes gleamed with a hint of amusement as I processed the truth. Part of the hunt was an ancient ritual, a raw and visceral offering to the harvest goddess, meant to honor her with the thrill of the chase.
“This is to celebrate the harvest season?”
“Your one question is up. Now, get in the springs.”
His lips curled into a knowing smirk, the expression confirming that I had connected the dots.
He was one of the hunters, and I, with a sudden chill creeping up my spine, realized I would be one of the unfortunate souls who’d be the prey.
Damn. I’d really wanted to play the part of fearless hunter.
My heart started trotting through my chest as I took him in again. The green eyes, tanned skin, and that dark auburn hair: one character came to mind.
I had a feeling he was none other than Prince Leif Saxon, or the horseman known as Conquest.
If the hunt he mentioned remained true to the main plot of the book, then I was in more trouble than I thought. The four Fae princes were legends.
Despite the danger looming, my traitorous pulse sped with the thrill of being in this book.
If I managed to elude all four of the horsemen and their chosen hunters during the hunt, then I could claim a favor as a prize.
It was their way of bribing the last of winter to relinquish its hold over spring.
But if I failed…
I inhaled.
I simply wouldn’t let that happen.
No matter if the horseman known as War was sitting just below Logan Blaze on my list of fictional crushes.
Sloth would absolutely lose his stoic cool.
And if anything could motivate the prince to hunt me down himself, it would be the possibility of a fictional crush batting his seductive eyes at me.
This might be the best way to get my favorite prince back.
My earlier trepidation gave way to excitement. I was in one of my favorite books, and I was going to make the best of the situation.
The Liber Noctem was cunning at twisting tales, but it had no idea who it was up against. It might have taken Blondie from me and moved the pieces around to get me alone, but alone was where I thrived, even if I didn’t prefer solitude.
I was no damsel in distress.
I was no warrior either.
But I was a reader and a damned voracious one to boot.
I read everything I could get my greedy little hands on, and my mind was a twisted pit of chaos waiting to be unleashed.
It was time to embrace my power and dream myself into victory, even if that meant I had to become a little wicked to achieve it.
A smile curved my mouth.
My villain era was about to begin.
Conquest jerked his chin toward the steaming-hot spring, a not-so-subtle demand to get in, and successfully broke me out of my dark plotting.
I couldn’t deny that the prospect of washing away the stubborn salt water and gritty sand from my skin sounded like heaven.
But I didn’t love the idea of one of the four horsemen peering down at me.
He advanced toward me, his gaze dark and unwavering, and I felt my resolve crumble. Bathing in a waterfall with Conquest standing guard wasn’t the worst demand he could make, considering he was a harbinger of doom and all.
“Fine. Turn around, though. I don’t need your murderous stare on me the whole time.”
With a resigned sigh, he did as I asked. A true gentleman.
Once I was sure he wasn’t some pervert with a peeping fetish, I unbuckled my weapons belt, which contained the phoenix tear, and set it on the ground, then peeled off my soaked tunic, the fabric clinging stubbornly to my skin.
I dropped it on the grass and squatted down to unlace my boots and kick them off. I tipped them over and shook out an impressive pile of sand.
No wonder my feet felt raw. I’d brought half the beach with me.
Next came the leather trousers, which proved to be quite challenging.
I cursed under my breath, hopping awkwardly on one foot while wrestling with the stubborn pants, which refused to let go.
Honestly, leather and pirates were probably the worst combination.
Water did not do that fabric any favors.
In a final act of desperation, I plopped back down onto the soft grass and yanked each pant leg off with determined tugs.
Thank goodness the Fae didn’t turn around to watch my dignity wither and die in real time.
He would have had quite the entertaining show.
Finally free of my clothing, I waded into the pool. The water was the perfect temperature and fizzled lightly against my skin.
I wondered what Sloth would think of the waterfall and hot spring and imagined his stoic expression being less than impressed.
Secretly, though, he’d love it.
Under all those fortified emotional walls he was a real softy.
I ached at the thought of him being injured and forced myself to get through the present. He would find me.
Or maybe I’d try to find him with my power once I was alone. I was sure Teddy would comb the island for me if I asked. He hadn’t been able to travel too far from me last night, but maybe we could test the distance today.
Not wanting to prolong this bath any longer than I had to, I swam into the heart of the waterfall, letting the water cascade over me as I sank beneath its soothing rush. It felt incredible to get the salt and sand off.
It also felt a little like I’d lost the upper layer of my skin in the worst exfoliation process of my life. However, it was also as soft as butter now, so there was my silver lining.
I worked my fingers vigorously through my tangled hair and scrubbed my head, silently wishing for something more luxurious to wash with—
A sudden splash interrupted my thoughts.
My attention snagged on a corked bottle bobbing in the water beside me.
Praise be to the gods of soap, I must have manifested…
I whipped around, my gaze narrowing in irritation.
“You promised you wouldn’t look.”
“I did no such thing.” A genuine smile spread across his face for the first time, making me instantly wary. “Better catch the soap before it drifts away.”
I hesitated for only a minute.
If he’d somehow laced the shampoo with a sedative, at least I’d get clean hair before he whisked me off and deposited me in the woods for the hunt.
I uncorked it and took a small whiff.
Maybe the soap was magic. It smelled like a blend of fresh florals and sweet herbs that floated in the air around me like a spell.
I dumped a generous amount into my palm and lathered it into my hair, then massaged it over my skin, enjoying the rich, creamy suds that kept releasing the captivating scent.
I dunked back under the waterfall to rinse.
The water was warm and soothing, a stark contrast to the chilling presence of my silent, watchful bodyguard, who hadn’t bothered to give me privacy again.
Conquest really was living up to his reputation as the most unpleasant of the four princes. Even Famine was more liked.
I glanced over my shoulder, scowling.
“You really need to work on respecting boundaries.”
“Are you done?”
Not at all, but I figured he wasn’t asking about the mental list of complaints I was currently logging against him and was referencing the bath.
“Are you going to turn around so I can get out?”
He shot me a withering look—like I was trying his infinite patience by asking for basic manners and decency—before he pivoted on his heel and gave me his back.
He was a true delight.
I swam through the water and climbed onto the grassy shore, then stared down at where my clothes lay in a crumpled, filthy heap, cursing.
I’d been so excited about the prospect of getting clean, I hadn’t thought about putting my sea-soaked clothes back on.
The shrunken leather was going to be one of the circles of hell to shimmy back on, but I never shied away from giving my all to seemingly impossible tasks.
I bent to grab my trousers, and a sudden, warm weight thudded against my face—a bunch of fabric.
I reached up reflexively, snagging it before it fell to the ground, and glared at the Fae standing a few feet away. Shockingly enough, his back was still to me.
And he was no longer wearing a shirt.
I gave him a cursory glance.
His toned body did nothing for my romance-addled mind.
The only thing I still fantasized about was stabbing him. Repeatedly. And not in the hot enemies-about-to-become-lovers kind of way. Sloth would be pleased. His sociopathic tendencies were rubbing off on me.
I looked down at the shirt in my hands.
In a rare act of consideration, Conquest had tossed me his tunic. I held it up to inspect it. It was a soft, thick fabric that would hang loosely to my knees.
It was fine, practical even, but I hesitated, holding it at arm’s length.
It smelled like the Fae, an earthy, woodsy aroma that was distinctly his, and I felt a peculiar resistance to wrapping myself in someone else’s scent.
I didn’t think the prince would care for that at all.
Which was absurd.
I ignored the little thread inside me that vibrated madly in indignation and slipped it over my head.
Better to be draped in someone’s scent than to prance into a castle filled with the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse butt naked before a horny harvest festival. Sloth would surely come to the same conclusion.
Not that his opinion on the matter was important.
Gods. I needed to get a grip. One kiss really did ruin me.