by Linda Kage
I nodded stupidly and let her lead me along, slipping the axe back into my belt holder as we went.
“I hope I didn’t bring too much. But I wasn’t sure when I’d be back, or if I would. Brentley might not allow me to visit after you and I marry.”
Marry?
“So I really tried to pack only the most essential, important things, except everything suddenly felt so sentimentally vital that I just wanted it all with me.”
She thought we were going to marry?
“But I can carry it all by myself if necessary. Since you didn’t bring a horse for me—”
“I have a horse.” Damnation, how the hell was I supposed to tell this girl I had no intention of marrying her whatsoever?
She paused as if confused. “What?”
I cleared my throat, my voice empty when I repeated, “I have an extra horse for you.”
“You do?” She sounded surprised. “Oh. That’s wonderful. I thought—I mean—I guess I didn’t give you ample time to reply after I asked, did I? Sorry about that. I’m a bit nervous.”
“It’s okay.” Going hoarse with regret, I admitted, “I—I’m nervous too.”
I’d never kidnapped anyone before.
“You are? Why, that’s grand. We won’t have to feel so self-conscious since we’re both bumbling through this together, then, I suppose.”
“Aye, it does help, doesn’t it?” I agreed, starting to smile. Only to pause.
Because shit. Wait. Why had I said that? I definitely should not have said that. Deciding to stop talking altogether before I’d confessed everything and shooed her back into the castle where it was safe, I pressed my lips together hard.
But she was just so fucking sweet and amiable. I began to feel sick to my stomach.
In his youth, Murdock used to amuse himself by killing stable cats. The tamed beasts would run right up to him and trustingly wind their entire bodies around his ankles, merely wanting food and attention. And he’d pick them up as if to lovingly pet them, only to squeeze their necks until they died in his hands, or sometimes he’d throw them against the side of the barn as hard as he could to kill them.
It had always made me ill to watch. Exactly how I was feeling this very moment.
If she were a kitten, Princess Nicolette would be rubbing against my calf, purring as her tail twitched with delight, just wanting me to love and pet her. Except I was going to be Murdock who gently picked her up and then wrung her lovely, vulnerable neck until she permanently stopped breathing.
Sweat coated my skin as indecision laced my brain. While a part of me wanted to push her away and warn her to run, fast, the other part had me tightening my grip on her hand and keeping her close. Sable wouldn’t be safe until I delivered the Donnelly princess to my father. No matter how innocent and undeserving she was of her doomed fate, my sister was equally innocent and undeserving of hers, and her life depended on this woman.
As if sensing my turmoil, Nicolette stroked my arm. “Don’t worry, Farrow. I won’t let anything bad happen to you. I swear it.”
Fuck.
I swallowed down the hard lump of guilt in my throat.
Because I couldn’t make her the same promise.
8
Nicolette
My true love had come!
I still couldn’t entirely believe it. While a part of me had always hoped and not given up on wishing it might happen, I think a bigger portion had despaired, certain I would not see him again.
He didn’t have the mark, so there’d been no valid reason for him to form any kind of attachment or special regard for me within the few minutes we’d known each other, other than the fact that I’d saved his life from certain peril, but still…
Not even that seemed to warrant him trekking across the Vast Desert for weeks on end and endangering himself enough to step onto enemy territory just to be reunited with me.
But he had. He’d had faith in my mark when I’d told him it had chosen him.
And my mind was still spinning from the shock.
Under me, the horse I rode snuffled in the night. That and the soft swish of its hooves plodding through the sand had been the most sound I’d heard in nearly an hour.
Because Farrow certainly hadn’t spoken.
It seemed I had an uncommonly quiet mate.
So far, he’d been kind, yes. Helpful. Considerate. The perfect gentleman. But he was fairly lacking in verbal skills. After following me to my pack of possessions, then helping me mount my horse and fasten my things to his traveling gear, he hadn’t been much for words. He’d taken control of my reins, clicked his tongue, and set us into motion away from the castle. All quite rapidly.
I mean, I knew time was of the essence. Each moment he lingered in Donnelly, his risk of being caught and killed grew. But it felt as if everything was happening just so fast. Too fast. Frankly, my head couldn’t seem to stop spinning.
I was doing this.
I was really doing this.
I’d promised my family I wouldn’t seek him out, and I hadn’t. He’d totally sought me.
I said I wouldn’t leave without a word, either, which I also hadn’t done. I mean, not technically, anyway. But the hastily scribbled note I’d tossed on my bed as I rushed from my bedchambers didn’t seem like the kind of “word” I’m sure Brentley and everyone else would be expecting as a farewell. They wouldn’t like learning that I’d dashed off without stopping to think everything through.
But really, they should understand. They had their own marks, which they trusted implicitly. They had better trust mine, too, or they’d all be hypocrites.
And the only reason I’d kept Farrow away from them before we left together was because I already knew there’d be tension. Maybe even the killing kind. And I’m sure Farrow’s idea of meeting the in-laws did not include getting strung up by the neck. So I’d just kind of bypassed all that, for everyone’s sake.
Yet even as I thought that reasonable thought through, I had a strong suspicion no one else would see it the same way. And I was even more certain they’d have a better argument as to why they believed my actions were rash and foolish.
They always did.
Regrettably, they were pretty much always right. But I hadn’t done the wrong thing this time. I couldn’t have.
Except my glance was all too uneasy when I peered through the dark toward the sound of Farrow’s horse next to mine.
My family would have so many questions about him, like why he’d waited five years to return for me.
And while that was a very good question indeed, I’m sure he had a great answer for it, and he’d probably tell it to me soon.
If he decided to talk.
Man, I wished it were daylight. In the zenith of night, all I could make out from the sparse amount of moonlight available was his basic silhouette. At least with some light, maybe I could see his facial expression and be able to read him a little better and probably find a measure of reassurance for my hasty actions. Even the sound of his voice would probably help stabilize my nerves. Because right now in the dark, I could only sense apprehension from him.
And that didn’t help ease my own at all.
My panic mounted.
I was running away with a complete stranger. He could be dangerous. Evil. He could—
Oh, what in God’s name was I freaking out about?
This man was the love of my life.
I was safe with him.
I had to be.
Right?
My mark wouldn’t pair me with a killer. Though, now I had to wonder if cruel, merciless killers had soul mates as well. Everyone needed affection, compassion, a partner in life, whether they were good or bad. Maybe mine was—
No. Just no. I wouldn’t allow any more of those silly thoughts into my head.
Needing words in the air to stop my spiraling anxiety, I opened my mouth to fill the void. I had so much curiosity about him, a million questions that needed answers. I wanted to know everything. And
if I wanted him to talk, I figured I merely needed to start the conversation myself.
Except Vienne’s voice entered my thoughts, warning me to go easy.
You have a habit of diving right off into deep issues that most people need to ease into, my dear. You scare some off with your intensity and drive.
I had no idea if Farrow could be scared off by an onslaught of personal queries about himself, but I didn’t want to risk it, so I stroked the neck of the horse I rode and blurted, “Does she have a name?” because I needed conversation like I needed breath in my lungs, and that seemed like an easy, trivial enough topic.
“What?” Startled by my voice, his outline twitched before he turned my way.
“My mount,” I clarified. Damn, I sounded crazy, didn’t I, by just deluging him with randomness without any reference at all? Not even I would’ve known what I’d been talking about if I’d posed the question to myself. “The one I’m riding,” I went on. “Does she have a name? Or is it a he?”
“Oh.” He swallowed audibly. “Uh…” After a stilted moment of thinking, he ruefully admitted. “Yes. You’re on Caramel. She’s female. I’m riding Mint, a male.”
“They have food names!” I cheered in delight. “How appetizing.”
But then I had to ignore the twinge in my stomach because, speaking of food, I could certainly go for a midnight snack right about now. Or a drink. My tongue felt about two sizes larger than usual. Once we’d left the oasis around the castle, the dry desert air had attacked with a vengeance, almost immediately dehydrating me.
“Aye. The, uh, the stable I borrowed them from,” Farrow said, his voice trembling slightly, “has a tendency to name their mounts after food.”
Forgetting about my thirst, I furrowed my brow and repeated, “Borrowed?”
Did he not own the animals himself?
But as quickly as I pondered the thought, I flushed, embarrassed for assuming he actually had enough funds to own horses.
And, you know, so what? He wasn’t a wealthy man. Maybe Far Shore soldiers didn’t get paid well. That was fine. I wasn’t one who needed fine things or extravagant luxuries, even as I wondered how poor one had to be that they couldn’t even afford two horses, because I’d never actually lived without fine things or extravagant luxuries before.
I’d never gone without anything before, come to think of it. Or worked for a living.
Oh, dear. Would I need to work now to help support our family?
If we had to rely on me for income, this might turn disastrous. I couldn’t sew a stitch to save my soul, and I’d never even tried to cook or clean. I was going to make a terrible wife, wasn’t I?
Dear Lord, what if he shipped me back to Donnelly as soon as he discovered how truly inept and worthless I was? Should I confess now that I didn’t have a useful skill to my name before he put any more effort into taking me into his household?
My nerves grew unstable. Suddenly unsure about the entire notion of running off and leaving the only home I’d ever known—forever—and cleaving myself to a complete stranger, I shook my head and silently ordered myself to just calm down already.
I merely needed to learn more about him; that was all. Maybe he didn’t need me for manual labor. Maybe he would be perfectly content with the love and companionship I could offer. All I had to do was figure out what he was looking for in a partner. Then I’d realize I was worrying about nothing. This man was meant for me. Of course, our situation—whatever that might be—would work out for the best.
So, screw going easy. I needed reassurance. Now.
“Tell me about yourself, Farrow.”
“Me?” he repeated, sounding wholly horrified by the suggestion.
I winced. Okay, so maybe he wasn’t the same, dive-right-in type of person I was. Oh, well. He might as well learn now that I was.
“Yes. Do you have a trade?” I asked, since most people who couldn’t afford horses did. “I mean, I know you must be a soldier since you were in the army that was captured by my—” Cutting myself off, I cringed again. It was probably best not to mention how my kingdom had completely annihilated his. “But do you do anything else when you’re not training? Do you have a large family? Live in the country or a village? What have you always wanted to do? Are you a fan of music? Why did it take you so long to return for me? Is your—”
“Princess,” he cut in, sounding rattled.
Damn. I’d gone too far, hadn’t I?
“Sorry,” I rushed out, cringing some more. “It’d probably be best if I actually waited for you to answer a question before I posed the next, wouldn’t it?”
At least he sounded amused when he agreed, “That would be most helpful, yes. Thank you.”
I flushed. “Of course. Or…” Dash it, I was messing this up epically, wasn’t I? “Maybe I should just tell you about me,” I said. “Then you wouldn’t feel as if you were being harangued with so many inquiries. Would that suffice?”
“That—that would be fine, princess. Whatever you wish.”
“Nicolette,” I told him. “Please. I would like for you to call me Nicolette. Or sometimes, my closest loved ones have even shorted it to Nic. Your choice.”
“Nicolette,” he said softly, the rasp in his voice making my skin shiver with awareness. I liked how his low, grating tones made me feel so warm and wanton.
“I love your voice,” I said, nearly sighing through the sentiment. I wanted to touch him so badly right now. My fingertips tingled over the urge. I wanted to feel his rough hands and thick shoulders. His lips and chest. The places where hair met flesh, and all the spots in between.
Body tightening deep in my stomach, I gripped the reins in my hands and focused on ignoring the stir in my pulse.
“I, um, thank you,” he said, his words uneasy.
“So, about me,” I went on, hoping to find some order and sense in the world again and forget about the sensual side of our union until a better time. “I’m the youngest of three. My grandfather, Terran, was the first king of Donnelly, as I’m sure you know.”
“I didn’t, actually,” he said.
“Really? Oh. Well, yes, he was, which is why the kingdom was appointed the Donnelly house name as its title. But Grandfather died when I was three. So then my father reigned for ten years until he was killed by—huh—you know, I just realized it was my own sister-in-law who murdered both my parents.”
I blinked at the sharp knot that formed in my chest from remembering them.
“How horrible.” Farrow sounded sympathetic.
“Yes.” I cleared my throat, determined to get back on track. “She, uh, she slew them so her husband—my elder brother, Caulder—could become king. It was all very horrible when we finally discovered her crimes years later. But I guess, since I ended up taking her life, justice for my parents was served in the end, wasn’t it?”
“You…” Farrow paused before asking, “I’m sorry, but did you say, you killed the last Donnelly queen?”
My eyes widened. “Oh, don’t worry,” I rushed to calm him. “It was quite by accident, I assure you. I had no idea what I was doing until the deed was done. This is why I shy away from all magic these days. You see, I threw a pouch full of enchanted powder that a mage had given me at her, thinking it would cure her, but instead it—um—it disintegrated her to ash.”
“To ash?” he echoed faintly.
I nodded. “Yes, it was rather traumatizing. I’d never taken life before or since. I still have nightmares about it.”
“I imagine you do.” His voice was so soft and full of such understanding that I wondered if he’d experienced similar nightmares. Being a soldier, he must’ve taken life more than once in his time.
I opened my mouth to inquire, only to close it again, deciding that was too personal too soon. So I pushed on with my own tale. “I suppose, if I wanted to be brutally honest with myself, I’d admit she deserved it. It was her fault Caulder lost his life, as did my parents and my cousin Soren too. And she’s the one who h
elped your kingdom invade mine in the first place.”
“She did?” Surprise littered Farrow’s tone. “I wasn’t aware of that.”
“Yes, she was having a liaison with one of your princes. Murphy or something. Do you know of the one I’m speaking about?”
“Murdock?” he queried, his astonishment amplifying tenfold. “Your queen was fucking Murdock? Shit, sorry. Pardon my language. I meant—”
“Oh, I don’t mind,” I rushed to say as a little warm pocket of delight glowed inside me. It actually pleased me when people cursed in my presence. Made me feel as if I were part of their inner circle and not just some royal patron they must watch their manners around. “Honestly. Because that’s exactly what they were doing. While having a dalliance with your prince behind my brother Caulder’s back, Yasmin helped him plan how to sneak past the walls to get inside the castle.”
“Well, I’ll be damned.” Farrow’s surprise echoed around the night. “I had no idea that’s who his source was. He was always so smug about how he got his information, only saying it was the highest of caliber.”
“I wouldn’t call her the highest,” I said with a sniff, only to look his way questionably. But of course, I couldn’t see his expression through the dark. “So you knew the prince well, then?” I prompted, trying to figure out his station. He was a warrior who couldn’t afford a single horse, yet he must’ve been high enough up the ranks to converse personally with princes.
Strange, that.
“What? Oh. Not really. But yes, I guess you could say we were familiar with each other.”
What the devil did that mean? Frowning because he didn’t elaborate, I added, “Vienne’s the one who killed him, if you were curious.”
“Vienne?”
I nodded. “Yes. She grew up in the castle with me. She was the queen’s sister until—”
When I broke off abruptly, Farrow quietly supplied, “Until you killed the queen.”
“Yes,” I said vaguely, wondering why I was telling him all this. I definitely wasn’t putting my best foot forward, was I? Two seconds into trying to describe myself to my one true love, and I was already confessing I was a murderer and that I’d been raised in a castle full of other murderers.
