Chapter 18
“Remind me again why your men had to wait behind?”
The fog we’d entered an hour ago had thickened into a heavy milky haze that blanketed us in cool moisture.
It swallowed most of the crooked trees we wove through, so dense that anything beyond twenty paces from us was shrouded in cloud.
The looters’ attack was still a fresh memory, and my skin crawled with invisible eyes that could be anywhere.
“Josenne doesn’t like visitors. If we want anything from her, it’s best to adhere to her preferences.”
But Josenne’s cottage was not in view, and it hadn’t been for the last ten minutes that we’d traveled alone.
“Could they not have accompanied us any further?” There could be ten, fifty, or hundreds of adversaries hiding in the fog, waiting to descend upon us.
“Yet again, I’m getting the feeling you don’t have faith in my ability to keep us safe. We’re almost there.”
Somewhere to our left, a stick cracked, and I jolted. Tension held my body taut as I sat rigid in the saddle, wishing I had a weapon in case something happened. Not that I would know what to do with it.
Hoping to distract myself, I asked, “What’s the plan with Josenne anyway? Ask her our question and leave?”
“Yes.”
“Seriously? That’s kind of rude, is it not?” Not that I was particularly well-versed in manners, but common sense suggested that bursting through the door, demanding an answer, and immediately leaving was impolite.
“Josenne will consider our arrival itself rude. The quicker we leave, the better the experience.”
I bit my lip in frustration. Not only was there no route locked within my mind, but we were pestering a woman who despised our interaction. “If she hates company so much, what makes you think she’ll offer any information?”
“She’s in my debt. She hates it, but she honors it.”
It was an odd circumstance, for a woman not even within his Territory to be indebted to him.
Either Harthon had saved her from looters, or something had occurred before he’d become Princeps.
Something within that elusive timeframe that he and his friends were so tightlipped about, save for his admission about his childhood last night.
“Why is she—” The fog quickly thickened, and rising panic seized my breath.
A moment later, the haze returned to its previous state, but not before Harthon rested his hand on my waist as if reminding me he was there.
Clearing my throat, I tried again. “Why is she indebted to you?”
“She was held against her will by someone, and I released her,” he revealed.
I waited for him to continue, but it was in vain. For someone who so badly wished for me to support his cause, he was rather unwilling to provide reasons to trust him.
“That’s all you’ll tell me?”
“You asked why she’s indebted to me. That’s why.”
It was an intentionally ignorant response. I twisted in the saddle to face him. “I can’t trust you or support your crusade into Centralis when you hide your past. You were a mercenary. I’m not stupid. You probably did distasteful things. What is there to hide?”
At my challenge, the lines of his chiseled face grew harsh. His stubbornness only inflamed my frustration. I had yet to push him on the topic, and I was done being polite.
We were completely alone, he was stuck on a horse with me, and he would answer my questions, dammit.
“Your childhood was full of violence and bad people, just like that looter boy’s,” I stated.
His attention remained on the path ahead, even as his fingers stiffened against my waist.
“Right or wrong?” I pressed.
“That’s correct.”
“Those bad people probably made you do bad things. Right or wrong?”
“Right.” This time, his voice was like gravel. It was a warning I couldn’t heed, not when I was finally getting the answers I’d wondered about.
“But you were a blameless child when you did those things, and then you became a mercenary, and you hunted and killed people who deserved it. You plotted your takeover. Now, you’re Princeps. Right or wrong?”
Stormy eyes met mine for a moment. “It’s not that simple, Etarla.”
“Then enlighten me,” I urged, wishing I could throttle him but needing my hands for balance in my awkward position.
A muscle flexed in his jaw, but he said nothing.
I hurled the last piece of information I knew at him. “Callen wanted to kill you for some reason, but then he united with you. What were you doing that made him want to kill you? I don’t understand—”
The horse whinnied, the noise like a scream, and launched us high into the air.
Twisted as I was, there was no chance for me to grip the seat before my thighs left the saddle and I was thrown.
Harthon crushed me into his bulk, and I registered the two arms wrapped around me just before we crashed onto the brutally hard ground.
He landed beneath me and rolled, shifting a hand behind my head until we stopped with him above me.
Confusion sank in just as he leapt to his feet and drew two blades, a low, animalistic growl emanating from the fog before him.
The horse bolted with a squeal, and I rushed to my feet, disbelief clearing my lungs as I took in the four brown wolves, saliva dripping from the tips of their canines, deadly single-minded intent in their amber eyes.
How can such big animals still be alive in this world? I wondered in shock, and then Harthon threw his daggers.
High-pitched wines indicated they met their targets as two wolves rushed Harthon, sleek bodies bounding over the ground with an arrow’s speed and determination. Harthon unsheathed his sword and a dagger, and my heart seized as the blurs of fur flew through the air.
There was nothing I could do.
With a roar that was all human, Harthon slashed his sword into the belly of one, jabbing at the other with his knife.
And then he went down, barely visible beneath the beasts.
One of them jerked and collapsed, and then the other’s open jaw was inches from Harthon’s face, held back only by his grip on the snout and chin.
There were no weapons in his hands.
I charged, hurling myself at the wolf in blind desperation. I crashed into furry flesh that flew into the ground with me. It rolled with inhuman speed and bunched its legs, ready to leap into me. Only it didn’t. The animal cocked its head, as if considering me.
A dagger landed in its side, and it hesitated as my hand found a rock. Thrusting myself at the animal, I slammed the rock into its skull, bashing until its fur turned crimson and it collapsed in a heap.
Breath ragged, I lurched to my feet and spun to watch Harthon slice into one of the wolves he’d hit with his first daggers. It’d managed to stumble forward, fighting the wound in its chest until he struck it down.
His chest moved with mild exertion as he turned to me, glancing at the bloody rock still gripped in my hand. “Remind me to remove all rocks from the area before angering you.”
I gaped, even as I panted. We’d nearly been mauled to death by a pack of starved wolves, and he chose this moment to joke?
I scanned each animal for signs of life before dropping the rock. “I thought all wolves were dead,” I said in stunned disbelief, beginning to tremble from fading adrenaline.
Harthon covered the ground between us in long strides until he was before me, scanning my form. “Most of them are. A few survive in less populated areas, where there’s more to feed on. I’ve never encountered any here.”
But this time, we had, and I’d been completely unprepared because I was busy spearing him for information when they appeared. I was surprisingly unscathed, but that was only because Harthon shielded me from injury during the fall.
He’d been angered by my interrogation, but he didn’t even hesitate before snagging me from the air and taking the force of our landing.
While I wouldn’t apologize for digging into his past, he deserved my gratitude. “Thank you for catching me.”
Just like at the party, he tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “You don’t need to thank me for that.” The rough pad of his finger lingered on my ear for a moment, and a different tremble, one not born of adrenaline, rolled over me.
“What are we going to do without the horse?”
“He’ll come back. We’re only a short walk from Josenne’s.”
Josenne couldn’t be as feral as the wolves. That was a small comfort, at least.
Harthon picked up my hand, which was splattered with the wolf’s blood, and wiped it clean on the inside of his cloak. “Did Callen go over tackles with you?” he asked.
My brows furrowed as I shook my head.
“Well, he doesn’t need to. Your form was decent.” He gently dug into my nailbeds, where the blood would easily crust. “Thank you for the help.”
I allowed myself a sliver of pride. For once, I had been a help rather than a burden in battle. Granted, that battle had been against animal attackers. My skills against human adversaries were still yet to be determined.
“You probably would have been fine without me.”
“I would have lived, sure, but my face likely wouldn’t be as pretty as it is.”
Pretty was the very last word I’d use to describe anything about the man. Rugged, masculine, and dangerous were more appropriate.
With a straight face, I replied, “It was my concern for your prettiness, not you, that spurred me into action.”
“I thought so.”
My breaths turned shallow as I watched his gaze peruse my face, slowly, almost thoughtfully, before meeting my eyes. It wasn’t the analytical evaluation he’d given me in training. It was different, something far more…tender, maybe. I’d never had a man regard me in that way.
He finds you beautiful.
He suddenly stepped away to retrieve his daggers.
The moment played in my head of its own volition for our short walk to Josenne’s cottage. I couldn’t decipher it, and I wished I could read the thoughts in his mind and understand my own. The sight of the thatched roof and stone walls amidst the fog stopped my efforts.