Chapter Nine
The rest of our party gallops over to us, weapons raised, at the sound of the scream.
I clumsily jump down from the horse and rush over to the wagon seat, reaching to touch Trick’s arm to offer comfort.
Trick abruptly stops screaming and clutches my hand so hard I wince, his face drawn with pain and horror.
“Why?” I shout at Elianna. “What did you do, and why did you do it? You had no right!”
The sorcerer winces and presses her fingers to her temples.
Her eyes flare hot when she glares at me.
“Don’t talk to me about rights. All of Altarra depends on what we do here.
We have no time to worry about whether he might escape and take you with him.
If I have to bind him to ensure his loyalty, I damn well will. ”
Sergeant Neville clears his throat. “I don’t mean to question the decision of a Guild sorcerer, but what exactly did you do to him?”
Bern, his face contorted into a grimace, suddenly stands up from his seat on the wagon and points at Chitai and then Andras. “If we can’t trust him, why would we trust them? Who are they, and why would they have any loyalty to us? If we’re going to bind people, we should bind them!”
Oh, no. Bern, careless in his grief over Lil, just dealt a deadly insult to Andras Al’Sylvan’s honor. And that means the soldier is as good as dead if somebody doesn’t step in and stop it. There’s no way he’ll win a duel with a Sylvan lord.
My stomach sinks when I figure out that the somebody who needs to step in is me, because I don’t know if anybody else here has read Honor, Etiquette, and Guest Right Amongst the Sylvan.
Crap.
I whirl to look at Andras, whose hand is already reaching for the sword at his side. Before I can tell myself it’s a truly terrible idea, I rush over to stand directly in front of his horse, praying it won’t decide to stomp me to death.
“No! Lord Al’Sylvan, he didn’t mean it! He’s distraught from Lil’s death. Please don’t call for a duel.” I bow to him as deeply as I can without falling over, hoping beyond hope that the rituals in Guest Right haven’t changed.
“Lord?” Neville says.
“Rise, Soli,” the Sylvan says, his voice hard.
When I stand, he’s staring down at me, a forbidding expression on his face. His flashing black eyes, bronze skin, tightly braided black hair, and black travel clothing scream Here is a dangerous warrior. Cross him at your peril.
And that’s before I consider the weapons he carries.
Oh, yeah. So much peril. I have a wild urge to smack myself in the head a few dozen times, but I wait silently, hoping he refrains from killing me and Bern both.
When he finally speaks, what he says is unexpectedly gentle. “You would sacrifice your pride to save him, Soli?”
I sigh. “My lord, in all honesty, I’ve never been allowed to have much pride.” I push up my sleeve and show him the ugly Gray Mind brand on my wrist, shame flushing hot through me. “Do you know what this means?”
“I do. Your people are barbarians to brand their own like cattle, and fools to discount you for a difference in your mind.”
Even fearing death by duel, I’m warmed by his words. “I agree. But Bern is grieving, and he doesn’t understand the insult he leveled against you. Please forgive his comment, which was made in ignorance.”
“Do you offer to stand surety for this man?”
“Yes.” I’m proud that I only sound a little shaky. I know what standing surety means. If Bern trespasses again, we’re both dead.
A thought snakes its way through the stress gripping my mind: Could the Sylvan really kill me while I wear the goddess’s amulet?
I’d rather not find out.
“No, she does not,” Kaelen growls, leaping down off his horse and moving to stand between me and Andras.
“If the soldier doesn’t know better than to insult a high lord of the Sylvan, you can’t hold Soli’s life against the possibility—the probability—that he’ll do it again.
Not to mention, our quest is more important than your pride. ”
Behind me, I hear Bern begin to speak, but Neville snaps at him to shut his ignorant mouth.
Andras ignores Kaelen entirely and stares at Bern. “It’s my goddess we rescue, soldier. I will do everything in my power to serve this quest or be foresworn.”
Then the Sylvan focuses on me for a long moment, nods, and takes his hand off the hilt of his sword.
“The Valourian is correct. My pride means nothing compared to our quest. For a more … pleasant journey, though, perhaps help him not make this mistake again. You, fierce one, carry our future. You’re in no danger from me. ”
With that, he wheels his horse and canters off. I blow out the breath that was trapped in my lungs while I waited for his decision. My shoulders slump.
Then I turn to face Bern. “We have a lot to talk about.”
Kaelen puts his hand on my arm and squeezes, his fingers tightening convulsively.
Then he raises his gaze to Bern. “You just insulted a high lord of Artemisen’s Sylvan elite and came very close to dying.
If Soli hadn’t known how to defuse the situation, you’d be dead, and our quest would have one fewer person to help us succeed. Watch your tongue, man.”
A slow clap interrupts this tense scene, and we all look at Chitai, who continues her languid applause. “So dramatic.”
Kaelen starts to answer her, but she makes a flicking motion with her fingers.
“No. A few things. Soldier: if you don’t know what you’re talking about, best to keep your mouth shut.
Thief: binding or no, if you betray this quest or any of our company, you’ll find my knife in your throat. Soli: foolish. Brave, but foolish.”
Finally, a slow smile spreads on the desert woman’s striking face as she stares boldly at Elianna. “Sorcerer. If you ever try to bind me, it had better be with silken ribbons and the heat of your body, or we will have words.”
With that, she urges her horse to a canter and follows Andras, leaving me staring after her in open-mouthed shock. I knew Chitai had courage, but to dare words of seduction to an angry Guild sorcerer is three steps beyond brave and well down the path to recklessness.
Elianna, however, doesn’t look angry. Instead, a small smile curves her mouth as she watches Chitai ride away.
Back on the road a short time later, I eat my hunk of bread folded over a slice of beef with more appetite than I expected. Apparently, my stomach is too happy to have food regularly to bother with petty things like fear of death.
We ride in silence for at least an hour, and I am very aware of Kaelen’s every move.
Every touch. He has a way of rubbing his thumb over the back of my hand where it rests near the saddle horn.
Or occasionally leaning forward and resting his chin—just for a moment—on the top of my head.
It doesn’t feel intentional, exactly. Oddly, it reminds me of the kitchen cat who loved to wind through my legs and butt her head against my arm for pets and scratches.
Seeking comfort through touch.
I can’t imagine this man—this prince—needs comfort from me. And the feeling his touches cause me are far from comfortable.
More like my skin might catch on fire from the sparkling nerves beneath it.
I lean forward a bit to escape his breath on my neck. Who knew a puff of warm air could be so … enticing?
When Kaelen finally speaks, it’s not the lecture about dangerously impulsive actions I’m expecting. Or an explanation for why he keeps touching me—if he’s even aware he’s doing so.
First, he whistles—a piercing sound that alerts the rest of our company. Then he raises his hand and points to a cloud of dust a good way down the road ahead. “Here we go, Soli. I think you’re about to meet your first real mercenaries.”
The lead mercenary is a tall, lean woman with deep brown skin, dark eyes, and a shaved head.
She’s dressed all in black, wears thick gold jewelry, and rides a horse with scarlet and gold ribbons braided in its mane.
Despite all this frippery, the woman looks like she could break me in half with one hand and not even chip one of her scarlet fingernails.
Kaelen leans forward and bends his head until his lips are almost touching my ear, and I fight not to shiver at the contact.
Of all the inconvenient reactions to experience during a death-defying quest, being enormously sexually attracted to this man must top the list. I thought my awareness of Kaelen’s …
Kaelen-ness would dissipate once our escape from the castle was well behind us.
But I guess I should have realized that the constant, not-insignificant threat of death around every corner would keep all of my senses heightened.
Inconvenient, to say the least.
“Soli, try not to speak much at this first encounter. Just listen and observe. You don’t sound anything like a mercenary, and I don’t want to attract notice.”
It makes perfect sense, so I don’t know why the advice—or command—makes me itch to do the opposite. I nod, though. I guess I’ll find out what a real mercenary does sound like. Maybe they swear a lot? Issue dramatic warnings of danger on the road? Only talk about gold and jewels?
“Quickly, though—do I have your permission to touch you?”
His question shocks me. Is it possible he guessed what I’ve been thinking about for the past hour?
“This farce will play more convincingly if you’re my … If you’re mine. Since you’re riding with me.” I can hear the embarrassed discomfort in his voice, and it settles my nerves.
“Yes,” I blurt out. Then, more calmly, “Yes.”
I can’t help the shiver that races through me. I’m not sure if it’s fear of the mercenaries or anticipation of how and where Kaelen might touch me.