Entwined (The Rose and The Sword Book 1)

by Meredith Kinsey

  He effortlessly lifted her onto Pretty’s back. Mounting behind her, he worked his way around her wings. It took some maneuvering, but they fit together like puzzle pieces. Her wings settled on either side of his hips, tickling his arms. Resting his arms on his thighs, he tried not to think about it.

  But with every trot, Aileen’s lovely rump jiggled in the most inconvenient of places.

  It was going to be a long ride.

  Chapter Four

  Aileen was aware of every inch of Loran’s body pressed against hers, as she plotted their journey through dense underbrush.

  She scanned the forest, senses tunneling ahead through the trees. One wrong move could end in catastrophe. She’d chosen her home well, surrounded by creatures that made even a warrior like Loran give pause.

  After a half dozen hours of careful progression, they came to River Abhainn. The waterway was vast and dangerous at some places, little more than a creek in others.

  And each mile had its dangers. The water drew so many to its bounty.

  The bridge was the quickest way to avoid the soldiers. The pass would be survivable, marginally so. The books she consulted a long time ago had inspired her plan to navigate the waterway. She had always been aware that there would come a time she needed to cross the river and she came prepared.

  Aileen slowed the horse.

  Loran shifted against her back. Her blood heated as she realized parts of him had grown harder than others. She had not had a man near her in as long as she could remember.

  He craned his neck to see over her head. “How do we cross?”

  “There is a bridge a little downstream. However, first, we need to pay the toll.” Aileen dismounted and patted Pretty’s neck in distraction.

  She surveyed the landscape, missing nothing.

  Loran landed beside her. “Toll?”

  Aileen dug into her bag. “The syrens are fickle folk. The way they see it, they own the river. To use their water, we must pay tribute to them. So, we will.” Aileen retrieved a wrapped conch from the depths. “Stay close to Pretty. Syrens aren’t partial to men they aren’t feeding upon. You must let me handle this. I must deal with these creatures alone.”

  “Surely you don’t expect me to stand aside...”

  She waved him off. “That is exactly what I want you to do. You are out of your element here, warrior. Let me gain our passage across. We will need your skills later on in our journey.”

  Loran stopped short, and she smiled. Her social skills lacked refinement, but even he had to recognize her superior skill in navigating this realm.

  Aileen side-stepped an acnuln, an exceptionally deadly berry bush that had aided many a poison attempts in history. She clipped a small amount, close to the stem. Wrapping it in cloth, she stuffed it into her apron. She might be able to make a new plant with the cutting.

  The sounds of the rushing river increased to deafening proportions. Clover covered ground bled into damp silt. The water lapped at the sand. The sound would have been soothing, if not for the predators lurking in these waters.

  Aileen fell to her knees, sinking into the ground. Her skirt clung damply to her thighs.

  “Syrens of the river, heed my call.” Aileen cupped water in her free hand, letting it run between her fingers. “I request passage. In tithe, I offer you a piece of your beloved ocean, taken so cruelly from you.”

  A sound like rustling paper unsettled Aileen. The forest animals quieted.

  “And who are you to ask anything of us?”

  The words came from every direction, a hideous crescendo that built the pressure in Aileen’s ears as if she dove into too deep water.

  She swayed, struggling to get the words out, fighting the urge to claw at her throat. “I am but a wayward soul, like yourselves. I have come to the Tranglam to escape persecution.”

  The slightest reprieve had Aileen gasping for breath.

  “And what do you know of our plight?”

  She sensed anger coating her mind, and it wasn’t hers. It felt as if a hand wrapped around her neck.

  “A witch banished you to the river, away from your ocean. From your birthright. From your beauty.” Aileen gasped for breath once more. “Because. Of jealousy. She wanted. What belonged to you. By birthright.”

  Leaves rustled. The water lifted from the river and slapped at Aileen’s knees, soaking her skirt.

  “You have a sense of style with words, wayward soul. Close your eyes, and we shall review your request.”

  She closed her eyes. Breathing was easier. She became aware of someone poised over her. She saw the shadows and light behind her eyelids. Someone or something was right on top of her. Right where she knelt. Still, this was a delicate negotiation, and she kept her eyes closed.

  A hand tightened in her hair. Aileen gagged as the stench of wet mold permeated the air. Her face yanked upward.

  The ring of metal through the air startled her. She was pushed back. Her eyes opened. Loran’s legs were all she could see.

  “No, don’t!” Aileen screamed.

  But it was too late.

  The syren’s head hit the ground; the same second shrill cries sounded from across the river.

  “You dare!”

  Aileen scrambled away from the gruesome seal to their fate. “What have you done?”

  Across the river, the Syrens had begun to sing.

  ◆◆◆

  Loran warred with himself. Did he stay back? Or did he check on Aileen?

  His instincts shrieked at him. He wasn’t used to taking orders from anyone but the King.

  A beautiful woman bent over Aileen, and a hand caught in her hair. The face of the creature was angelic, but its features were frozen in menace. A jagged claw extended from a gnarled hand.

  The two images didn’t make sense. Loran shook his head. The hand went from a youthful, slender appendage to a knobby fist, long claws poised over Aileen’s throat.

  “You are mine,” the creature said.

  The voice sounded like gravel, both harsh and horrifying.

  Loran lowered himself behind a fallen log, biding his time. He wanted to trust Aileen’s knowledge. But what if? If he didn’t act and his gut was right, she wouldn’t be around to get mad at him.

  He leaped from cover. The creature shrieked a mere second before his blade sliced through its neck. Its youthful form disintegrated; body turning to gray flesh pulled over too many bones. As if there was no muscle to keep everything together.

  “What have you done?” Aileen struggled to get away, as the dead arm fell away from her.

  His mind had been clear, as it always was when he killed. His senses were honed to a fine point. Protect what was his, at all costs.

  And she was his to ward. At least until he figured out why they were so connected.

  One second, he knew who and what he was, and the next, he no longer existed. A song so exquisite filled his aching ears. He had never heard anything so close to the divine!

  Loran smiled. He wanted to be in the river.

  His foot lifted, and he planted it back on the sand. No, wait! He had to stay and protect Aileen. And. Something. else…

  The singing caught his attention. He hummed.

  What had he been thinking about?

  Loran’s foot lifted. Taking a step toward his watery grave.

  ◆◆◆

  “Don’t!” Aileen got to her feet and grabbed his hand. “Don’t listen.”

  She clamped her hands over his ears, and he paused. His lucidity lasted seconds before he pulled away from her.

  “Have. To. Go...”

  “Oh, Goddess!” She darted through the trees, to where Pretty stamped her hooves in earnest. “Easy, lovely. We don’t have much time.”

  A splash at the water confirmed her fears. Loran entered the river and was walking into the depths.

  She rifled through her potions until she found the one she sought. She pivoted, darting for the water.

  Loran was nearly halfway across the rive
r when she burst out near the shore. With shaking hands, she uncapped the jar, dumping contents into her palm.

  “Be quick; bring utter silence. Protect his will. Block what binds him.” Aileen blew the powder on the wind. A sensory spell she’d developed a few years ago.

  Two breaks in the current bore straight for Loran. He shook his head, then shook it again.

  Dazed, he looked back at Aileen.

  “Swim!” She pointed for the dark masses that came for him. He looked at her. “Damn the Summerlands. He can’t hear me.”

  Aileen quieted her mind, pressing her will toward Loran’s still form.

  “You must come back to shore. There are mermaids in the water. Come back to me, quickly,” she sent through a thread of thought and emotion. A tremor of fear colored her vision. Her hands shook. “Don’t leave me to face this task alone.”

  Loran’s powerful body cut a swath through the water toward her. The mermaids changed directions, but they were too far off.

  Dripping and befuddled, Loran sloshed to the sand.

  Her relief was instantaneous. So was her irritation. She had not been able to test out her spelled conch to see if a mermaid could be lulled into complacency.

  “You should have left well enough alone,” Aileen sent to Loran. “Now, you’ve angered them. We have to run.”

  “Why can’t I hear you?” He hesitated and tilted his head.

  “I cast a spell so that you couldn’t hear their song.” She took his hand and pulled. “Now, we must move.”

  His grip on her hand tightened. Running for the horse. The mermaids had already transformed to go after Pretty.

  Chapter Five

  Loran’s training far exceeded anything a mermaid could throw at him. Being disabled by a singular sense made no difference. Not where it mattered. He had trained in outlasting extreme conditions. Darkness. Isolation. Starvation. A broken leg. The King himself broke it.

  All to hone the skills they needed from his familial line.

  Throwing Aileen on top of the horse and melting into the trees. He slowed his heart rate, Forcing his body to stop breathing. He couldn’t maintain this silent and breathless state long. But it would be long enough to trick his quarry.

  The silence heightened his other senses. He waited.

  A shadow cut through the trees across from him. Another stayed to his left, waiting as if in ambush. Slowly he approached, his muscles flowed like a snake, each movement bringing him closer to his goal. Nothing wasted.

  Using the shadows as cover, he scented his prey. As he silently stepped behind the monster, his body had begun to fight for breath. His heart stuttered. He had seconds to finish this.

  The retching scent of dead fish filled his nostrils. His nose didn’t even twitch. Gray flesh clung to her bones. Matted, inky hair hung in clumps on her skull. Her profile showed sunken eyes and a hole for a nose.

  He wrapped his hand around the creature’s throat. He leaned in close to its ear. “If your partner harms one hair on my woman’s head, I will end your pitiful existence, and not care one bit. My woman pities you. I do not.”

  “You killed my sister!”

  “She meant harm to what I consider mine.”

  “She found the offering wanting. It is our way. Your woman understood that. You will both die now.”

  “If I remember my history correctly, when a man catches a mermaid unaware, she owes him a boon of his choosing.”

  The creature hissed in his mind. “You speak of old myths. No one has claimed us in eons.”

  The warrior in him felt pleasure from the delicious irony. The code of the warrior said to what you must to gain an advantage in any conflict. With his former men so near, a possible ally tipped could give him the leverage he needed.

  “Do not try to weasel your way out of a fair deal. You will let us cross and will grant us one favor. Then, you won’t suffer the same fate as your sister.”

  How disconcerting to be talking, but not hear it! Judging by her responses, his vocal cues were on point.

  “Now, you ask too much.”

  He tightened his grip. He unsheathed his sword and held it to her throat.

  “Did I stutter?”

  “So be it. But, we fulfill this favor, you will not seek to cross our part of the river again. You will leave us to do what we will.”

  Loran painstakingly deliberated his reply. “After we cross this time, and after my favor, we will never bother you again.”

  “So mote it be. And may the Goddess smite you, should you go against your pledge.”

  He tossed the mermaid away from him. A thin mucous clung to his flesh. He fought not to wipe his hand on his pants. A show of weakness wouldn’t be prudent.

  Loran made his way back to Aileen, who watched him warily. He hopped behind her onto Pretty’s back.

  He wouldn’t meet her gaze. He observed the syrens intently. “Lead the horse to the bridge. We can cross this river but once. We must find another way back.”

  ◆◆◆

  They didn’t speak. The clip-clop of the horse’s hooves was the only sound she heard as they crossed the bridge over the water. The syrens watched them from a small gathering of smooth boulders. Hate radiated off their grotesque bodies. Hollow black eyes examined every movement.

  Such a wasted opportunity to know a magical being as unique as a syren, Aileen thought. But I can’t deny the beast was planning to kill me.

  As they exited the bridge, she swore the mermaid Loran had struck a deal with looked at him with a touch of respect.

  They traveled for hours. Eyes followed them in the distance, never venturing closer than fifty feet. Aileen wasn’t alarmed, although Loran watched them warily until they finally dropped away.

  Night in the forest fell like a stone, rather than floated on the horizon. The moon rose, a crescent high in the trees. Its light was scant through the canopy of vegetation.

  She turned halfway, careful of her wings, and looked at him. “Can you hear me?”

  He watched the way ahead. His irises were a chilling, glowing red, pupils wide and bottomless.

  He glanced at her, and the warmth returned. “Yes.”

  “I don’t think the mermaids can come this far from the water,” she said. “We should be safe as possible to break for camp.”

  “Agreed,” he said softly.

  Loran dismounted, then turned to help her down. He was a step behind her as she fed and watered the horse. Every move she made, she collided with him.

  After a few occurrences, she whirled on him. “I was on my own in this region long before you came. You do not need to coddle me because you find the locals unsavory. I can walk ten feet, all by my lonesome. If something jumps out, I am more than capable of defending myself.”

  He stepped back and inclined his head. As if to say; I respect your prowess, I am sorry I forgot how strong you are.

  Or so she’d chosen to interpret the look.

  She set about her next task to prepare the small clearing that would serve as camp.

  Arranging damp sticks and fallen logs into a workable formation, she reached into her bag to pull out a small vial. The contents heated the glass in her palm. She tossed the spell onto the wood.

  The small explosion startled the horse. Aileen clucked to the animal, encouraging her to keep eating her supper.

  Loran stood across the clearing. He was eyeing her bag of tricks as he checked the area around the camp.

  Next, she pulled out dried meats, small cakes, and ripe peaches. Two clay plates were piled high to bursting.

  Almost dying and escaping a second death brought out their hunger.

  She arranged a plate, passing it to the resting warrior.

  Returning to the opposite side of the fire, her skirt kicking up at her heels. She settled across the fire next to a log for her meal.

  He studied her as he ate.

  “What are you thinking about so hard?” Tearing the jerky into pieces, taking the first savory bite.

&n
bsp; “That you take so many risks with your safety. That syren almost cut your throat.”

  “Left to my own devices, I would’ve handled the mermaid. I was ready if my offering wasn’t enough.”

  “You are a truly formidable woman,” Loran said between bites of peach. “I was raised by strong women, trained beside them. Yet none of them compare to your diverse skill set.”

  Aileen beamed.

  “I am proud to call you mine.”

  “Mine?” She echoed.

  His lips twitched into a smile. “Of course.”

  “I belong to no man. King, warrior, or any other man.”

  He shifted, a roll of sinew. “We have saved each other’s lives. In my world, we belong to one another.”

  “That isn’t how this works where we are.”

  He leaned forward. “They,” he swung out his arm to encompass the forest, “are wild animals. I am a wild thing. You are too. I sense it.” He cocked his head as if listening to something. “So be it, then. You are not mine. But maybe one day soon.”

  She was speechless.

  Her heart hammered in her chest.

  Aileen busied herself with her meal, lest her emotion betrayed her. How did she respond to that? It thrilled her that he saw her for who she was, which she’d never experienced before. Each word he spoke dripping with confidence.

  Soon.

  Loran knelt beside her. She jerked in surprise. How had he moved next to her, and she scarcely noticed?

  His red eyes reflected the fire. His muscles bunched under the breathy white shirt. The material disappeared into pants that were tight enough that she could see his thighs clench as he knelt.

  So close, she could feel his breath on her cheek—the heat building between them.

  “You bewitch me, and I find I want to be,” he whispered. “You make me feel again, for the first time in an unremitting sea of empty days.”

  Aileen swallowed thickly. In most matters, she reacted with strength and grace but not this time. Her frantic pulse made her lightheaded. Her breasts tightened, and dampness clung to her inner thighs.