Chapter 23 #2
I hoped for those peoples’ sakes that they didn’t choose to fight back. Harthon would bring his forces in and decimate them.
“Whoever has control of those resources will have an awful lot of power,” Aric slowly stated.
“They will.” Harthon didn’t bother denying it as he set his goblet down. “Does that bother you?”
Part of me expected Torr and his men to burst through the doors, or for Aric to grasp some hidden dagger and throw it. Harthon was tense as a snake, coiled to strike back.
Aric rolled his lips thoughtfully. “Doesn’t bother me if I’m on the right side of that power.”
“Your position will depend on whether you align yourself with my goals.”
“Which depends on many factors,” Aric shot back. “But I don’t think that is a concern for this current dilemma. We need to enter the Domus and understand what we’re dealing with. Power negotiations or disagreements can come after.”
He may as well have said he intended to fight Harthon for control after our quest was done. Aric had already proven he was self-serving. He was also a capable man with an ego, and in no world would a man like him want to be subordinate to another.
Bringing him into this was a terrible idea.
“That works.”
I swung to Harthon, gaping. That so did not work.
“It works,” Harthon repeated, “but we go with only my men, and if you try to kill me, Etarla, or any of my men during this little adventure, I will cut out your intestines and strangle you with them.”
“I take one man with me,” Aric amended. A half-crazed glint reflected in his eyes as he added, “And the same goes for you, my friend, if you try to kill us.”
The same anticipatory edge shone in Harthon’s face, and my jaw dropped a little more. Then both men drank at the same time, as if sealing this backwards truce.
Reckless and violent, both of them. It was a wonder they were still alive.
Aric swallowed and added, “This all assumes the Horrads don’t kill either of us first.”
It was my turn to chime in. “I thought that was the whole point of us cluing you in here. You have the experience to help us navigate First.”
“I do.” His next words washed away that comfort. “But the last time I snuck in, I was the sole survivor. I wasn’t unscathed, either. Nearly lost my eye.”
Of course, that was where he’d earned his scar.
“Yours, though, they’d probably want to keep intact.”
He didn’t specify in my face or outside of it, and that implication sent my goblet to my lips. The liquid burned down my throat, but I took another gulp, because it felt entirely necessary.
“How did you get those eyes and that knowledge, anyway?” Aric asked.
“We’ve given you enough detail,” Harthon interjected, his tone leaving no room for argument.
I didn’t think telling Aric the story of my encounter would be giving anything valuable away, not after all we’d just revealed, which meant Harthon was withholding that information as some sort of power play. A way to assert a little dominance over the Princeps.
I was certain Aric was aware of this, but all he said was, “The Horrads don’t always send someone back like this.
Oftentimes, the fools who come across them are never seen again.
But when the Horrads do send us a gift, people take several days to regroup before attempting to seek vengeance.
The Horrads will be expecting that delay, so we won’t give it to them.
We’ll begin passing through the mountains at dawn.
To do that, we need to depart within the hour.
There’s a village in the foothills where we can rest tonight. ”
I took another drink because even though I’d been anticipating our trek, today was soon. Far too soon.
Aric winked. “Sorry you two can’t enjoy another private night together.”
* * *
Torr abhorred our plan.
I knew this because his jaw had been clenched so tightly, for so long, his teeth were probably ready to shatter.
That was after his eyes had widened in disbelief when Aric called him into our room and informed him of the plan.
He’d vehemently advised his Princeps against trusting and joining us, and threatened Harthon with death should anything happen to Aric.
Harthon, for his part, had only nodded in respect, probably because Callen or North would have done the same for him.
Since that outburst, Torr had been rigid with explosive tension, quiet but coiled to strike like a flaming catapult on a battlefield. So I wasn’t surprised when words burst out of him again, this time as our group stood in the stables, horses and packs being readied around us.
“Princeps. You could be gone for weeks, and that is only if you make it back here alive. We should be going with more of our men, those you trust, after stronger contingencies have been put in place.” His body vibrated with more unspoken words, though he didn’t continue.
Aric slapped a hand on the younger man’s shoulder.
“I agree this is mildly reckless,” he conceded.
“But Conrad is coming with me.” Conrad was a mean-looking soldier whose bulk and beard reminded me of North.
He hadn’t spoken a word to us, and that only made him more intimidating.
“This is an opportunity that I cannot pass up, and Harthon and I have agreed to certain terms.”
Not caring that Harthon and I were directly in front of him, Torr hissed, “But you don’t need to agree to terms. Kill him. Take her. And let us access Centralis on our own terms.”
Stefano and Joris sidled closer.
Aric glanced at Harthon over his shoulder.
“I won’t pretend I haven’t considered the idea, but that beast there would plow through a good deal of us before he dropped.
” He sighed and dropped his hand, then took a step backward so the three of us stood together, like some sort of team.
A temporary one, at least. “Besides, traveling with him will aid our survival. If the stories regarding him are true, of course.”
Harthon addressed Torr. “Happy to demonstrate how true those stories are right now, if you’re in the mood to try anything.”
Torr gripped the hilt of his sword, but Aric held up a hand. “No.”
Still, his second-in-command’s fingers twitched around the leather grip.
With a seriousness he hadn’t yet shown, Aric told him, “There is no one else I trust to lead in my absence. There will be a day when I won’t stop you. But now is not that time.”
Torr’s jaw ticked. It took several moments for his hand to drop. Other men might have mocked his concession with a smirk, but Harthon didn’t.
Regaining some composure, Torr said, “Be safe. I will handle this Territory in your absence.”
“I know,” was Aric’s response.
Torr spared one final sneer at Harthon, one that extended to me, too, before retreating.
Aric turned to Harthon. “You should know he is a prodigy with a blade,” he casually revealed. “As much as I have heard of your skill, you would be wise to regard his.”
Harthon merely lifted a brow, at which Aric snorted before going to his horse. Clearly, Harthon wasn’t concerned, but I was. Not because I doubted his lethality, but because the thought of him potentially being cut down made me ill. I tried to take some reassurance in his confidence.
Reading my thoughts, he said, “One fight at a time, carella.”
Why did there have to be so many fights?
He guided me to my horse, which had already been saddled. I mounted, and he placed his hand on my thigh, the heat of his palm temporarily distracting me from my worry.
It was utterly ridiculous, for a simple touch to have my mind scattered when we faced so many threats.
Yet here I was, my thoughts drifting to last night, to how masterful his fingers were, how he’d played my body like an instrument, and how all the capability and confidence he demonstrated in battle extended to the bed sheets.
I shifted in the saddle to ease some of the arousal those simple thoughts provoked. Skies, what was wrong with me?
His thumb grazed across my thigh, and I met his eyes. I expected to find them arrogant and knowing, but they were sincere instead.
“I have always had something to fight for. Vengeance. Pride. A desire for change,” he listed. “But now there is something more, and I pray that with this thing driving me, I will never lose.”
When my nose scrunched, his lips kicked up in a devious grin. Lowering his voice, he said, “Make that two things. The feeling of being inside of you—”
I blushed crimson.
“—and you, carella.”
My insides flipped at the admission. “Aren’t those one and the same?”
“Yes.” His hand blazed a heated, intentional trail down my leg as he stepped away. Then, for the second time in the course of history, Harthon winked. “But the first deserves a mention of its own.”