16
Aire
My hand obstructed the monstrous noise that howled from Aspen’s lungs. A string of profanities exploded against my palm like bombs, heat from her insubordinate mouth pushing through the leather glove. Enraged, I shackled one arm around her midriff and trapped the heathen against my chest.
Every destructive inclination rose to the surface. Wrath. Hysteria. Savagery. By fucking Seasons, I would ring her neck. I would gag her dissentious lips. I would bend her over my knee. I would toss her over my shoulder like a fucking sack of barley. I would—
“Stop!” Nicu seized my bicep, his fingernails stabbing into my forearm. “Let her go!”
Gently but firmly, I extracted myself from his grasp and uncorked Aspen’s mouth only long enough to plug a cloth between her teeth. That took care of potential lies.
Next, I spun her around, those hazel irises incinerating me like flames from her beloved forge. As though it had been stapled to her skull, the hood stayed in place. Notwithstanding, the woman’s gaze seared through my flesh with the intensity of a brushfire.
With expediency, I assessed the woman for injuries, finding no signs of harm. My respirations eased a fraction, allowing other ferocious inclinations to take precedence.
Matching her glare, I tore a length of rope from the inner flap of my coat and shackled it around her wrists.
And that took care of potential violence.
This axe-wielder might be blameless, but in her current mood, I’d prefer to keep my head attached to my neck.
Moreover, until I ruled out Aspen’s motives for absconding with the Crown’s most sacred family member, the bindings would keep her in check.
The instant I yanked on the knotted cord, a hand landed on my knuckles. Only this time, Nicu’s touch softened.
I paused, and Aspen ceased her thrashing, each of us stalling long enough for my liege to wedge himself between us. He straightened the narrow ramps of his shoulders and spoke as though he stood on a dais.
Authority rang from his lungs like a platinum bell. “I said… Let. Her. Go.”
At minimum, Nicu stood nearly a foot shorter than my frame, yet the young man’s tone did not match his diminutive stature. Rather, he spoke with fervor, doing justice to the man and woman who raised him.
Like a protector. Like a Royal.
Admiration pacified my fury. If only marginally.
I could not overlook his role in this pandemonium, for Nicu possessed a mind of his own, and based on the fall of that elegant coat, the dagger Aspen gifted him was hidden inside one of the lining panels.
That aside, the Royal Son’s defiant track record hardly exceeded Aspen’s, much less the likelihood of him pulling a blade on me.
Only an unprecedented event would motivate Nicu to draw his weapon on someone.
But as much as I would enjoy bowing to this command, I had sworn an oath to guard him. Therefore, I must be certain.
Turning his way, I inspected Nicu for wounds. Apart from a lattice of scratches across his temple, he appeared unscathed.
Good. Onward.
“Where the fuck are you going?” I gritted out. “Did she put you up to this?”
Insulted, Aspen grumbled around the gag. Impatient, I flung my hand up to silence her. Not that it worked.
Nicu balked, his features scrunching in umbrage. “You know better.”
In one respect, I did. I would stake my life on Aspen’s devotion to Nicu, she would never willingly endanger or manipulate him, and he was clever enough to resist coercion.
But with that premonition looming like an apocalypse, looking the other way would be folly.
When people encountered peril, sometimes they accidentally mired others in the same jeopardy.
Including people they loved. This, I knew well.
In his artful manner, Nicu provided an abridged version of the tale, from his attempt to locate our unknown spy to his alternative quest for self-purpose in the outer regions of the kingdom.
“We left together,” Nicu concluded. “If you want more answers, you will remove the ribbon and release her.” His eyes glittered like shamrocks. “That’s an order.”
The ribbon. Namely, the rope.
Aspen’s head toggled between us. The woman did not wish to cause a rift. On that account, she and I concurred.
Nicu waited, his demand echoing through the woods. Indeed, he cut a fine Royal figure. Leadership suited him.
I withdrew a broadsword and maneuvered around Nicu. With a single lash, I cleaved through Aspen’s bindings. The female staggered, then pulled herself together as I tugged the gag from her infuriating lips.
Because I still held the sword aloft, she puffed out her ample chest. “I can explain.”
Nicu and I stared at her.
“It’s a good explanation,” she offered lamely.
“Be careful what you say,” I warned.
Her glower could split a cinderblock. Customarily, she spun unsolicited hogwash like yarn. Thus, when it came to Aspen’s half of the story, at best Nicu must have gotten partial information. Nothing beyond that.
Yet for once, she took my advice. That infernal mouth shut, the seam compressing like a line that dared to be crossed, the skin darkening to an insolent rosy hue that should be outlawed.
The sight played havoc with my pulse. What would it take to crack that seam wide open? To provoke a different type of noise from her lungs?
And where the devil was this coming from?
My gaze lurched from her lips to those rebellious pupils. Renewed fury pounded in my skull. Despite my every confidence in Aspen’s fighting skills, she could have been slaughtered out here. Raped. Taken captive. Held for ransom. For mercy’s sake, I could bludgeon her.
Nicu as well. Superior rank or not, my livid state hung by a thread.
Search troops had not ventured this far yet. No other disturbances lingered in our midst, other than the cold bite of eventide.
With a twitch of my blade, I compelled her to move, indicating the direction. Grinding her molars, Aspen trounced ahead. Her hips gyrated in an exaggerated fashion meant to illustrate her indignation, as well as her obstinance.
To my increasing misfortune, it also accentuated every womanly facet beneath that cloak. Seven years hence, Aspen had blossomed to her best advantage. The proof caused a disruptive amount of damage, an anarchistic jolt streaking to the head of my cock.
An uncivil noise scraped from my chest. Liar. Blasphemer. Off-limits. Out of bounds. Bad. Very Bad. To accompany this mantra, I went so far as to conjure sacrificial altars and religious hymns. Anything to deflate the impressionable appendage between my hips.
Grumbling, I led the pair to my courser, the hungry animal clicking his teeth in annoyance. Short bursts of travel without sustenance made the equine irritable, among numerous grievances the creature nursed on a daily basis.
The warhorse’s ears had been pinned. Yet as Nicu approached and murmured something, the stallion perked up and nickered.
During the trek, none of us spoke. Within minutes, the temperature dropped to frigid levels. West of The Fox Dell, a morass of brambles stretched into the void.
Twilight lacquered the sky by the time we reached The Pumpkin Wood. Thick squash crowded the underbrush, their husks pulsating.
Aspen’s pace slowed. The edibles multiplied in every direction, their luminescence breaching the hood and casting sweltering light over segments of her face. Recognition flickered across her pupils, coating them in a haunted glaze.
Concern slowed my footfalls. Few things scared this woman. Fewer things provoked a retreat. Yet she wavered, her fists contracting as they often did whenever she encountered a challenge. Then she relaxed her fingers and trailed us deeper into the forest.
Beyond a winding avenue of interlaced hedges, a cottage materialized. The picturesque cabin stood two levels high, its steepled roof pitching to the clouds. Casement windows with frosted plates offered privacy, a water mill abutted the neighboring pond, and a modest stable rose beside an herb plot.
The Royal Retreat.
Poet and Briar enjoyed this refuge during celebratory occasions and rare interludes away from their duties. It had also been an outpost during their infiltration of the Masters, prior to the guild’s slaughter in the castle courtyard.
Tomorrow, I would escort Nicu home. Until then, we would wait here in peace.
Because my liege was familiar with this property and possessed an unparalleled knack for tempering my horse’s mood swings, I entrusted him with the chore of retiring the stallion.
As I studied the retreating pair, my skin tingled. I caught Aspen studying me and lobbed an imperious gaze her way. Tension chaffed my flesh, the abrasion spreading like an infestation, hot and restless.
Stalking toward the threshold, I fumed at the lock. “Shit.”
Patting myself down would accomplish nothing. Since we hadn’t planned to venture here, none of us had brought a key. Muttering under my breath, I wasted time shaking the brass handle.
A smoky voice cleared. “Need help, soldier?”
“No,” I griped.
“You know, huffing and puffing like a grizzly bear won’t do any good.”
“I am not a grizzly bear. Nor a stubborn bull, belligerent ox, peevish wolf, or whatever other likenesses you’re currently thinking of.”
Aspen fluttered her fingers toward the door. “If you ask me—”
“I did not.”
The female waited as I investigated the facade, overturning plant pots in the hopes of a spare key. Muttering, I rammed my shoulder into the door, but the deadbolt held fast. I could smash through a window, but that would be vandalism. And it would invite the cold into the house, so perhaps if I—
Steel flashed. A curved blade arched downward. Sparks flew, and the swinging latch gaped open like a shocked mouth.
I wrenched my gaze toward Aspen, who balanced the axe handle on her shoulder. “Problem solved.”
“This is private property,” I galled, pointing at the evidence. “You just defaced private property.”
“Yeah. You’re welcome.”