22. Aemon
22
D o I feel guilty for the prisoner’s bracelet? I did, at first. I carried her back to the campsite, set her down, cleaned up the gash on her head and gave her my waterskin to drink from. Then she started bitching at me, and I wanted to tell her to run away again so she’d get struck a second time.
I didn’t though because I am a nice fucking person.
So far, she hasn’t tried to control me or whatever she did with Fredrick, which is interesting. It’s possible the cuff is muting her abilities, but I would have expected her to try ordering me around at least. All I’ve gotten is a little bit of whining, a lot of complaining and a generally shitty attitude, so nothing too out of the ordinary. What’s really irking me, though, is her refusal to tell me what happened when she escaped the palace. Damn female can’t see when somebody is trying to help her.
“I already told you,” she says, arms wrapped so tight around her chest, I’m surprised she’s still breathing. “Fredrick said he wanted to show me how the chair worked, and strapped himself in. I can’t help it if he’s an idiot.”
“Fredrick said you controlled his mind,” I tell her. She stiffens just a tiny bit, but I see it. There’s definitely something more going on here.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“And the guard?”
Her bluster diminishes a little at the question. “I didn’t mean to kill him.”
“I’m talking about the one who walked you out of the palace and the ones at the gate. How did you get past them?”
“I just sweet-talked them.”
“Sweet-talked, really?”
She shrugs one shoulder and gives me a look that instantly makes my cock ache. “I can be very persuasive when I want to be.
I’m getting nowhere with this. “If you tell me what you did, I’ll be better able to plead your case when we get back to Ranook.”
She huffs out a laugh. “Ha, right, because you care so darned much.” She starts for her horse.
“Katya—,” I begin.
“Can we just go now, please.” She crouches down and begins untying the hobble from around her horse’s legs. “No point in delaying the inevitable.”
“Katya,” I say, more forcefully this time.
“What?” She stops what she’s doing and glares at me.
“ We’re ”—I wave a hand between the two of us—“taking my horse.”
She stands and stuffs the bit of twine into her saddlebag. “You’re joking. ”
“I’m not.”
Her eyes flick back and forth between me and Balor. “I am not getting on that horse with you,” she says, chin in the air like she’s some fine lady too good to ride with the likes of me.
And yes, I did wash up, so I know it’s not the smell. She’s just being an obstinate brat. “Get on the horse Katya, before I put you on it.”
“No.”
I have to shut my eyes and take a breath. I would rather not manhandle the girl, but if she insists. I pat Balor’s neck to settle him—I don’t need my own irritation getting him all jumpy—and start towards Katya.
“Wait,” she says, hands thrust out in front of her, eyes wide with the fear she’s been hiding beneath that attitude.
The irritation drains out of me in a rush. She’s terrified. Of course she’s terrified. I just shocked the ever-loving shit out of her and am dragging her back to the place where a bunch of men tried to torture her.
I pause my advance and fold my arms across my chest in the most nonthreatening way I can muster. “I already told you, I’m keeping you plastered to my side until we reach the palace."
“I have my own perfectly good horse,” she says, gesturing to the pretty brown bay mare she stole from some poor sad sap. “I don’t need to ride with you.” And the attitude’s back again. She folds her arms across her chest, imitating my stance, and gives me a pissy look, but I’m too distracted by the way it makes her breasts jut out to care.
“My eyes are up here,” she says .
I lift my gaze to meet those eyes and shrug. “You push them out like that, and any warm-blooded fae male is going to look.”
She groans. “You’re impossible.”
“Let me ask you something, sunshine. Did you enjoy the way it felt when the cuff shocked you?”
She purses her lips and glares at me. The question was mostly rhetorical anyway, so I continue, “That cuff”—I gesture to the steel band circling her wrist, a golden-brown Ratimir enchantment stone nestled beneath woven metal threads glowing in the center—“is spelled to this one.” I hold up my wrist, presenting the wider master cuff. “If you go more than twenty meters away from me, accident or not, it will shock you again. I have no control over it.”
She opens her mouth to speak, but I hold up a finger, telling her to wait, and she shuts it. “Now imagine your horse gets spooked and shoots off into the woods. Do you really think you can stop her before your entire body seizes up, you lose your grip and tumble to the ground, most likely breaking your neck?”
Her jaw is working from side to side, like she’s gearing up to say something, but can’t figure out what that something should be. Her hands drop to her sides. “Fine,” she says like a petulant child. “But I’m not leaving Miss Horse behind, so—”
“I’m sorry. What did you call her?”
“Miss Horse,” she says slowly, as though I’m a moron.
“You couldn’t come up with something more creative than Miss Horse?”
“Hmm,” she says, tapping her lip. Then she gasps and grips her chest dramatically. “You’re absolutely right. How selfish of me not to take the time to come up with a suitably dashing name for my horse when I’m running for my life .” Her tone goes flat on the last words and she gives me a look that promises death and dismemberment if I don’t shut up.
I just shrug. “It’s not like you didn’t have time, riding in the saddle all day.”
“Well, I’m so sorry,” she says, throwing her hands in the air. “I guess it just wasn’t high enough on my list of priorities, what with trying not to die.” She stomps over to Balor, muttering something about ‘idiot men’ under her breath, and lifts her foot into the stirrup. I try to help her up, but she swats my hand away, and after a bit of unladylike grunting, manages to get her ass in the saddle.
“Thank you.” I secure her horse to Balor, then sweep up into the saddle behind her, grab the reins and kick us off. The horses’ hooves clomp along the road, sending up tiny puffs of dirt with each step. I start us off at a walk, giving Katya a chance to settle in before I set a faster pace, but she’s not having it. The girl’s stiffer than a virgin in a whorehouse. Her back is stick straight, and she’s leaning over the horse’s neck in an obvious attempt to keep as far away from me as possible.
“You don’t look very comfortable,” I say, purposely taunting her.
“I am just fine. Thank you very much.” Even as she says the words, she’s twisting her back, trying to get more comfortable. I could be an asshole and call her out on it, but I much prefer aggravating her.
“If you say so. You’ve got this strong, broad chest to lean against, seems a shame to waste it.”
She glances over her shoulder, her eyes narrow slits. “Do you think this is funny? ”
“Exceedingly.” I give her a dashing smile, but that just angers her more.
Nostrils flaring, she says, “Well, I’m so happy you find my imminent death amusing. Once they hang me, I’ll be sure to come back so I can haunt you.”
“Nah, you’re too pretty to hang. I’m sure we can find some use for you somewhere. Maybe if you’re really sweet to me, I keep you on as part of my harem.”
She twists around to look at me, probably trying to gauge if I’m telling the truth or not. I try schooling my expression, but the corners of my lips are not cooperating.
“ You have a harem?” she says, and I have to say, I’m a little insulted by the incredulity in her voice.
“I could have a harem,” I retort.
“Do you?”
“Well, everybody’s got to start somewhere. You could be my first.”
She turns back around with a huff.
“No one’s going to hang you,” I say, more seriously this time. “I promise.”
She gives me an over-the-top, toothy smile. “Oh, are they going to try to torture me again? Because that was a real hoot the first time.” The smile drops, and she turns back to the road.
“Nobody’s going to torture you either.”
“They already tried.”
My fists tighten on the reins. Just thinking about that bastard, Fredrick, trying to strap her into that chair makes me want to hit something. “That was a mistake. ”
“A mistake?” She laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “A mistake? That’s a pretty big gods damned mistake. Do you have any idea how terrified I was?”
“Yes, I—”
“I killed a man. I ripped his throat out with my teeth. I’ve never hurt a soul in my life, and I killed him like an animal. That alone should get me hanged.”
“You were defending yourself.”
She doesn’t respond and, thinking the conversation is over, I kick the horse up into a trot. Katya bounces hard, and even the death grip she has on Balor’s mane isn’t enough. She starts to slip to one side, and I wrap my arm around her waist and haul her back against my chest. Defeated, she gives in and sags against me. Gods, she feels good. Her body is warm and subtle and fits against mine like she was made for it. The urge to trace her neck with my lips is overwhelming, and I settle instead on resting my cheek against her head. Her hair glides like silk against my skin and her scent—like strawberries and cream—reminds me of winter nights hiding out in Troi’s room, gorging ourselves on strawberries we nicked from the kitchen. I sink into the memory, absently brushing my cheek back and forth.
“Quit it,” she says, delivering a stinging swat to the side of my face.
And it’s back to reality again.