16 Maerryl
MAERRYL
Goddess, what a piece of work. Dove sat primly in her saddle ahead of me, leading the way home.
She’d barely looked at me since the other night—not that I’d given her much opportunity, granted—and now she was asking about my morning with that passive-aggressive hint of reproach.
As if I’d been shirking my duties or off making out with a kitchen maid or something.
Well, she would kind of be right…
Not about the midmorning dalliance. But I wasn’t in the kitchens. And I was shirking my “duties” to do something else.
She didn’t need me there with her anyway.
No one would be attacking her in the priory, and I wasn’t hired to be a child minder.
Orinno was there to help—I’d bet my left thumb that Prioress the Elder had asked him to assist Dove so that I’d have the chance to slip off to the infirmary and visit Balfie for a bit.
He and his cot were neat and clean, as always, but I spent some time trimming his fingernails, refreshing the flowers by his bedside table, and then talking and reading aloud to him until it was time to go.
My brother needed to hear my voice, to know I was still there even if I couldn’t visit as much as I should.
I’d had more important responsibilities to tend to than standing guard over a prissy, spoiled, ridiculous brat of a woman.
The memory of her in the dark gardens the other night rose in my mind again, as it had dozens of times. The harsh bite in her voice. “I hate you, Maerryl Kirim.” The flash of regret in her eyes, gone so quickly I’d probably imagined it. The imperious sweep of her hair as she turned away from me.
That’s fine. Perfectly fucking fine. Because I hate you too, Dovenesdrea Wistrallo. And you are going to wish you were nicer to me when you’re on the streets begging for spare change.
I was so deep in my daydreams of Dove asking for my forgiveness that I didn’t hear the rustle in the trees to our left until a beat too late.
An arrow whistled through the air, missing Dove but startling Lightning into a frightened whinny.
He bucked, forelegs high in the air, and she screamed, clutching to stay on.
My head whipped around, searching for the arrow’s source.
From the shadows of the trees on our left, I spotted a large bald head, skin as green as the leaves around.
Stiv. One of Zephyra’s men. What was he doing here?
Stepping closer to the tree line, he caught my eye and winked. Then he readied another arrow and stalked onto the path toward Dove and her panicked horse.
Oh no. No no no, what was going on?? Had the Takers guildmaster sent him to kidnap Dove? Or worse? But why would they leave me out of the loop?
Stiv shot another arrow past Lightning’s face.
The horse, terrified now, bucked again. I cried out as Dove was thrown from the saddle, falling to the dirt road with a worrying thud as I urged my own horse forward with my heels, drawing a dagger in each hand.
Stiv might be a member of my guild, acting on my terrifying boss’s orders, but he wasn’t going to hurt Dove without an explanation.
I threw a small dagger just past his shoulder as a warning shot and leapt down from my horse in a fury.
“Stop now, thief, and I’ll let you live!
” I bellowed for Dove’s benefit. She stirred in the road, thank the goddess, propping herself on one arm.
Grabbing Stiv’s tunic in my free fist, I held the other dagger up to his neck in a dramatic display, pulling him closer.
In a fierce whisper under my breath, I asked, “What are you doing here? This is my mission. I’m handling things. ”
He grinned back, a hard glint in his eye. “Not enough for Z’s liking. Our birds say the mark doesn’t trust you yet. Doesn’t even like you. I’m here to help move things along.”
With that, Stiv pushed me away, breaking my hold. I glanced back at Dove. She seemed to be okay, sitting in the middle of the road looking terrified. Suddenly, her eyes widened. She pointed behind me, shouting, “Maerryl, look out!”
I turned back to Stiv, who had drawn a curved, menacing blade.
He came at me, fast, and I dodged to the left at the last moment.
A slash across my collarbone, and then the pain hit.
He’d caught a piece of me. The blood flowed quickly, soaking my undershirt, but I tried to ignore it.
I could hear Dove shriek in the background as if from a long distance away.
Right. Enough of this. I didn’t know what the orc’s orders were, or how far he was allowed to take this.
Fear shot through my veins, and I clutched my knives tighter to ground myself.
I couldn’t let anything serious happen to me—the mage who had bound Balfie and my life forces together to keep him from succumbing to dwarfdrop had made it clear that if I died…
my brother died too. There was no room to risk this fight escalating—my brother had to live.
Period. Full stop. So I had to end this now.
Gripping a knife in each hand, I darted toward Stiv, slicing my blades in a quick flurry.
He managed to block the first few strikes, but my left dagger snaked in and stabbed his upper arm.
I kept my blow shallow, hopefully avoiding any major bloodlines.
I can’t imagine Zephyra would be too happy if I sent one of her favorites back to her severely injured, or worse.
But I needn’t have worried. Stiv shook off my knife and roared, so loud I wasn’t entirely sure he was playacting anymore either.
He took advantage of my pause to place a swift, solid punch to my stomach.
I stumbled back, focusing on the grip of my worn dagger handles and the sound of his laugh ringing in the air around us.
Taking another step back, making sure to keep myself between him and Dove, I threw one of my blades faster than a blink. It landed securely in his shoulder, wedged deep. His laugh cut off—and then a bellow of pain replaced it. Dove squeaked in fear behind me.
But rather than come at me again, the orc felt the dagger’s handle, wincing, then thudded off into the woods. As he disappeared from sight, he growled, “You better watch your back, little dove…”
Silence on the forest road. Except for birdcalls in the trees and a breeze’s whisper through their leaves, it was quiet once again.
I tried to calm my racing heart, slow my breathing.
That felt unpleasantly real. An echo of a time when I’d been the one attacking somebody on a wooded road, roles reversed.
Trying to ignore the memory and the flashing pain in my collarbone, I turned to check on Dove.
A mass of scented hair, road-dusted clothes, and warm skin threw itself onto me, arms squeezing around my neck.
Surprised, I lost my balance. One moment, I was bewildered, standing in the middle of the road, and the next I found myself laid flat in the dirt, arms full of Dove.
With a startled “oof!!” she’d fallen with me—on top of me, to be exact—and I groaned as my injuries were rattled.
Then I looked up.
Dove’s deep brown eyes were close, so close to me.
Her mouth felt closer still. She’d propped herself up on her arms, and I was suddenly hyperaware of every inch along her body that touched mine.
Stomach, hips, thighs, knees… we were frozen together.
My nipples tightened, and I was thankful for the thick, sturdy leather of my jerkin. The pain in my collarbone faded away.
We lay in the empty road, breathing each other’s air. We were nearer than we’d ever been. It felt magnificent, wrong, right, even as blood dripped inside my shirt. Dove’s body was a heavy, comforting weight over mine. She blinked slowly, gaze transfixed on mine.
And then our mouths met. A tentative kiss that turned instantly, fiercely, into something more.
Her lush lips were my entire world, and I savored the feel of them, losing myself to the sensation of Dove.
I tasted apple and desperate need, and I matched her intensity, feeling everything and thinking nothing.
My arms went around her, holding her even more tightly against the length of me.
I felt her legs open up, falling to either side of my hips as I tugged her closer.
Her mouth was hot on mine. Deliciously soft. When she whimpered as I gently bit her full lower lip, my mind fritzed out. She moved against my body lightly. I had the wild, insane urge to spank her.
You can’t spank proper ladies on the road, in broad daylight, some feverish part of my brain insisted, and I felt a laugh bubbling up. What was happening??
A burst of pain blossomed at my neck as Dove shifted in my arms, and the full ache of my injury came rushing back. Our kiss broke off as an agonized hiss escaped my lips. Dove propped herself on one arm again, a worried frown appearing as she looked over my bloody shirt.
“You’re hurt!” she said, moving back to sit next to me, and my empty hands ached at the loss of her curves.
I slowly sat up, groaning. “Eh, just a scratch.”
“A scratch! You nut, there’s blood everywhere. We need to get you to a healer,” Dove said as she got to her feet, brushing off her skirts quickly before holding out a hand to help me up.
Painful as the wound was, I knew from experience that I’d be feeling it much more if anything dire had been sliced. Stiv had been careful with his aim. Though it chilled me to think how close the blade had been to my throat.
Or maybe that was the blood loss.
Once she’d hauled me up, Dove busied herself with tucking two clean handkerchiefs against where the worst of the gash seemed to be. Instructing me to hold the wad of cloth there, she gathered my horse from where he’d wandered a little down the path.