CHAPTER 34 #2
Keenan blinked at him. “So if there was an underground river over there…you could?”
The guard’s lips twitched. “Best to save my magic for whatever we may face.”
So…he could?
Waving Princess Sakura forward, Oliver set his pack on the ground and held out the torch. “Please hold this, Your Highness. Keenan and I will have our hands full.”
She accepted it without complaint, and Keenan laced his fingers together to make a step. Oliver put a hand on his shoulder and a boot in his hands, then hefted himself up.
Keenan staggered under the sudden downward force, but he recovered quickly, widening his stance and holding himself steady while Oliver stepped onto his shoulder.
The hardened leather of his jerkin pressed through his shirt, making him wince.
But it was the only way out, so he concentrated on keeping his shoulders level while Oliver brought his other foot up.
As soon as he could, he switched to gripping Oliver’s ankles to offset the slickness.
“I’ve got the ledge. You can let go.”
More pressure as Oliver pushed off, and then Keenan watched the guard disappear over the edge.
“He didn’t take the rope,” Princess Sakura noted with a hint of dismay. “How will we get up?”
Keenan shook his head. “He can probably reach it if he lies down while I hold it up. If not, I can toss it far enough.” Stepping toward the princess, he turned so that he could see the top of Oliver’s ready sword and crouched form. “I doubt he wanted anything that would hinder his movements.”
A few minutes later, Keenan heard a soft shushing sound and the light footfalls of Oliver’s boots. Then the guard’s head appeared. “Looks clear. Toss me the rope.”
They sent one of the packs first, followed by the extinguished torch tucked into the top of the other pack. Then Keenan turned to the princess. “Your turn.”
She rubbed her left elbow. Staring at the rope dangling next to him, she lifted her chin and asked, “Do you expect a princess to climb that?”
“Sorry, no fancy machines this time,” he smirked. “But you can just hold onto it; I’ll be your staircase like I was Oliver’s.”
“I can’t step that high,” she admitted, glancing down at her dress before looking away. “And I’m not certain it’s entirely proper.”
“If you’d rather stay here alone…”
She whipped her head around to glare at him, her pale orange earrings catching the light of the candle and sending it sparkling back. “I will not be left behind, weapon-smith. So you may as well stop suggesting it.”
Shrugging, he laced his fingers together and knelt so she could step up more easily. “Then you get to climb. It can’t be that much less proper than me lifting you into and out of the saddle.”
She continued to hang back. “I may revise my policy on that.”
“Is this about what I said earlier?” he sighed, letting his head fall back. “I didn’t mean to say it; I didn’t sleep well and wasn’t thinking straight, and the wrong words came out. I’m sorry. Now can we please keep moving so we can get back to Mori and Kasumi before we run out of food?”
The princess didn’t look particularly happy about it, but she stepped forward and grasped the rope in one of her soft hands. She set the other on his shoulder and placed one foot in his hands. It was much smaller than Oliver’s boot.
Keenan slowly stood, trying not to notice the way her hand tightened next to his neck or her legs hovering a few inches from his face. He was wrong; this was much worse than helping her with her horse.
She swayed backward, and Keenan gripped her foot with one hand while he flung the other up to support her lower back. “Careful, Princess. Keep your weight forward, or you’ll fall. Maybe both hands on the rope, just in case.”
“Watch your hand!” she snapped. Then taking his advice, she moved her other hand to the rope and swayed forward. Keenan turned his head to the side to avoid a face-full of skirts.
“I’ll let you burn your hands next time,” he groused. Cautiously releasing her, he moved to support her other foot. “Can you walk your hands up the rope? I’m going to lift you, and then you need to step onto my shoulder.”
“Then what?” she asked, the tiniest bit of panic tinting her voice. “I can’t pull myself up the way Oliver did.”
“You’ll grab my wrists,” Oliver replied calmly. Keenan imagined the guard reaching over the ledge, but he couldn’t see anything that wasn’t the princess’s dress. “But you need to be a little higher first. Don’t worry, Keenan won’t let you fall.”
Keenan appreciated the man’s confidence. As Princess Sakura’s hips shot backward again, he wished he shared it.
“If you don’t want my hands to wander, Princess, you need to bend your knees a little and lean forward,” he grunted. He took a step forward, trying to stay under her. “I make no guarantees where they’ll land if I’m trying to catch you before you hit the ground.”
He could hear her grumbling under her breath, but she didn’t respond as she managed to swing her hips forward.
As he slowly lifted her feet to his chest, she wobbled, but she threw herself forward so that her knees crashed into his face.
Then she moved one foot to his shoulder, followed by the other.
Her feet slipped on the hardened leather of his jerkin, but he brought his hands up to grip her ankles.
“One hand at a time, Your Highness,” Oliver instructed. “I’ve got your wrist. Hold tight to mine. Now the other.”
“Are you set?” Keenan asked, trying to keep his voice steady. Princess Sakura kept wobbling, her feet tipping back and forth on his shoulders, and he was sure she was going to slide off at any moment.
“I’ve got her.”
“She’s yours,” Keenan called back. One of her feet caught his ear on the way past.
He caught himself before he tried to watch her progress. The heavens only knew what the princess or Miss Beatrice would say if he turned his eyes up while she was suspended above him, whether or not he could see anything in this light.
Instead, he stepped forward to grab the candle from the floor.
Trusting the distance to be safe, he peeked over his shoulder in time to see her set one foot on the ledge as Oliver moved back, lifting her as high as he could.
Her foot caught on her hem, and the guard had to scramble to catch her before they landed in a heap.
Keenan shook his head. At least it wasn’t just him.
Climbing the rope was more difficult than he had anticipated. He kept his feet wide so he didn’t swing sideways into the wall and eventually made it. Oliver offered a hand to pull him up over the edge, and then they stowed the rope and looked down the tunnel together.
“How should we do this?” Keenan asked, eyeing a bend just past the torch’s reach. “It’s wide enough for us to walk two abreast.”
Oliver’s lips turned down. “And flat enough to be intentional. I’ll take point, princess in the middle.”
For all his concern, Oliver left his sword sheathed, so Keenan followed suit.
Princess Sakura had the job of carrying the torch.
He was a little surprised that she didn’t complain, but her coolly logical brain had probably accepted the necessity of performing the role so Oliver and Keenan could have their hands free in case of danger.
Her ability to adapt to the situation instead of insisting on the special treatment owed her status was admirable, and it suggested good outcomes for her reign.
It felt like they’d been walking for hours when she glanced back at him. “We do not appear to be in imminent danger, weapon-smith. Surely you could walk beside me?”
He didn’t respond for a moment. It was far too tempting to hope that her request meant he hadn’t been mistaken when he saw affection in her eyes under the cherry trees. To believe that she yearned for his presence as much as he did hers, despite everything that stood between them.
But that was a foolish wish that he needed to uproot. He should simply be thankful that she’d apparently forgiven his loose tongue.
“Don’t tell me you’re scared of the dark, Princess.” He grinned at her, dropping his hand from his aching head. “I can’t think of any other reason you would want the company of a lowly weapon-smith, even if you are carrying the torch.”
“I have no female companion to fill the role,” she said simply, turning back to the front. “And I may carry the light, but the darkness is great.”
“Do you need a hand to hold?” he smirked.
“Perhaps.”
Her tone verged on teasing. But was he only hearing what he wanted to hear?
Deciding to be daring, he stepped up next to her. “Very well. One hand as requested, ma’am.”
She stared at him blankly for a moment, then looked down at his right hand. “You must be joking,” she finally said.
He’d known it was too good to be true, so he slapped a grin over the grimace that wanted to escape and let himself fall back a few steps. But then the princess crossed to the left side of the tunnel and slowed. When he reached her, she matched his pace.
She pressed her lips together, inhaling deeply through her nose as if gathering herself to leap off a cliff. Then her right hand darted out, fumbling at his wrist before sliding down to his hand. Keenan’s tightly clenched jaw loosened as he gaped at her.
“That was your sword hand,” she declared with a brave face but a wavering voice. “It would be foolish to hinder my actual safety in pursuit of a fleeting sense of it.”
It took him a moment to think up a reply. “But this is my dagger hand,” he told her with a crooked smile. “You’re still hindering my ability to react to a threat.”
She began to withdraw, but he tightened his fingers.
“Do you intend to hold me prisoner?” she asked with a raised eyebrow.
He squeezed her hand. “Yes, ma’am, I do. I draw my sword first, so why should I let you go now?”
He was crazy for doing it. But he was worn out from resisting, and the princess was offering. The prophecy stated that she would marry a commoner; why couldn’t it be him? Unless this was just part of the queen’s plan?
But as he looked down at the tiny smile on Princess Sakura’s face, he couldn’t quite convince himself that was the case.
After all, hadn’t she begged him to hold her when she collapsed? And Oliver said she hadn’t been enchanted.
“Is this a sign of affection? Or is it a form of restraint?”
Keenan’s sword was in his hand almost before he thought about it. His eyes jumped across the tunnel walls, but he didn’t see anything.
“But if it’s a restraint, who is restraining whom?” the voice mused. Their friend from the day before.
“What do you want?” Keenan asked. The princess’s hand tightened around his – he hadn’t realized she was still holding it. “Why are you here?”
“I promised to guide you, did I not?” the creature creaked back.
“Then where have you been?”
The sound of rustling canvas reached his ears. “It is hardly my fault that you left so early. Did you expect me to spend the night in a drafty cavern?”
Oliver stepped up next to them, his weapon drawn but in a relaxed position. “And you only just found us?”
The creature huffed. “Since you left, I had to search the tunnels for you. Though I suppose I should have known to check this one first; it was the easiest for you to reach.”
“There are more?” Keenan asked. He was mildly curious, but mostly he was annoyed and a bit concerned. If there were multiple paths, what would they have done if they had chosen the wrong one? And if they had, how much time had they wasted wandering down it while their friend checked all the others?
“Of course there are,” the creature replied easily. “Why else would you need a guide? You’re a little off course, but we’ll fix that at the next fork.”
“Next fork?” Oliver said sharply. “The tunnel has bent, but there have been no divisions.”
The creature was silent for a few moments. “Next fork, first fork. What’s the difference?”
“I’m glad we didn’t ask for directions,” Keenan grumbled under his breath.
Princess Sakura squeezed his hand and then let go. “I am the princess of this kingdom,” she said in a commanding tone. “I insist that you cease talking and commence leading.”
“I know who you are. But you have no control over me unless you succeed.”
Keenan rubbed his jaw, wondering what that comment meant. But Oliver sheathed his sword and tipped his head in a small bow. “We thank you for your assistance. As our companions will worry until we return, would you please escort us to our destination?”
“I can’t be out all day,” the creature said agreeably. “We should get started, but traveling these tunnels is such a nuisance. May I borrow a shoulder?”
Borrow a—what?
Before any of them could reply, the sound of flapping canvas preceded an emerald-green missile shooting out of the shadows. Keenan startled and jumped in front of the princess, shielding her from the object.
It flew upward a few feet from him. He caught a glimpse of two wings covered in something other than feathers, and then whatever-it-was dropped onto his left shoulder, shoving him down under the unexpected weight.
The voice squawked next to his ear. “Are you always so unsteady?”
The princess and Oliver both stared at him with wide eyes. Keenan straightened, then twisted his head to the side and back to look at the passenger he had acquired.
A four-inch-deep mouth full of sharp teeth grinned back at him. Above that, a tiny bit of smoke curling out of a pair of nostrils did nothing to obscure the sparkling emerald eyes or tiny spikes on the back of its head.
His eyes dropped to the sharp claws embedded in the shoulder of his jerkin. Scaled feet and claw-tipped hands. A pair of leathery wings tucked close to its body, and a two-foot-long tail flipping back and forth like that of a pleased cat.
“A dragon,” Princess Sakura breathed, her eyes morphing from shock to wonder.
Keenan stared dumbly. “I thought you’d be bigger.”
The dragon ruffled its wings, making the rustling-canvas noise they’d heard before. Keenan whipped his face away so the back of his head received the light blow instead.
“I’m as large as I should be,” the dragon said indignantly.
“It’s a youth.” Oliver’s voice was level, but one of his eyebrows was slightly elevated. “Quite young to be out on its own.”
“I’m not a baby,” the dragon pouted. Then drawing itself up, it proudly declared, “I am Churippu, daughter of Mamoru. And if you wish to wander the tunnels until you starve, I will let you.”
She hunched down, gathering her wings as if preparing to fly off. Keenan held up a hand, realized it had a sword in it, and switched to the other one. “No, Chirp, we’re sorry. We didn’t mean to offend you.”
“It’s Churippu, not Chirp,” the little dragon huffed, but she folded her wings back into her sides and settled into Keenan’s shoulder like one of Miss Beatrice’s chickens on its roost. “But if you cannot pronounce that, you may call me Churi.”
“Cherry—”
“Churi.”
“Churry—”
The dragon sighed. “Cherry will be fine.”