During the journey, I said little and spent most of my time reading one of the herbals Caoilfionn brought from the tower. It was an ancient thing with ornate borders around each page. The entire tome had once been covered in gold and other precious metals. You could see where the gold leaf had flaked off in places, leaving faint flecks behind.
The night we reached that large tree I had cut the innkeeper from all those weeks ago, the chill of autumn had finally taken hold, and the leaves began to change with the cold. I sat away from the fire, wrapped in furs, reading. The inn was a charred skeleton at the crossroads. It stood out as a reminder that I was back in the real world where there were more important things to worry about than some lost love.
Still, I glanced up at Aneurin as he and the others gathered around the fire laughing, drinking wine, and eating rabbit. At first glance, they seemed happy and close, but then on occasion Yorwrath would glare at Islwyn and Aneurin. When the fire grew low and there was no hope of making out the words on the page, I closed the heavy book and walked closer to where the others had congregated.
Aneurin and Islwyn had walked off into the woods together some time ago and hadn’t returned. Grwn was asleep on his pallet and so was Caoilfionn, which left Yorwrath and me more or less alone.
“I’m leaving,” I announced, taking a seat beside Yorwrath. It was the closest we had been to each other since the failed ritual.
“You won’t get very plowing far in the dark, Dy’ne.” He half snorted crossing his arms.
“I mean after we reach the main camp near Heves. I can’t stay.”
“Wasn’t going to fuckin’ ask you to, Dy’ne.” He sneered. “Don’t think that just because you’re comely and tight that you mean something to me. I’m commander of the Redcaps, Dy’ne. Remember? But my indifference isn’t your obstacle. Where I’d gladly relinquish my claim on you—since once we’re back at camp, I’ll have my collection to keep me sated—I’m not so certain about the Swynwr.”
“Fuck you.” I hissed, glaring at him, narrowing my eyes to tiny slits.
“Think I’ll pass. I’ve already had you, Dy’ne. My curiosity is sated. No need for me to go back and repeat past mistakes. Did you think I’d pine for you like my brother? Bemoan the loss of your affection like a simpering girl over the loss of the first thing that gave her a tingle in her quim?” He sucked his teeth. “You should know me far better than that, Dy’ne.” That dark voice of his rumbled in his throat as, like a flower in the cold, Yorwrath closed back up to me. “Don’t worry, I’m certain there are plenty of others whom Aneurin will thank for their loyalty with that tight little cun—” I was going to punch him. My arm was cocked and my fist was clenched, but as I followed through, aiming for his jaw, he caught my hand and glared at me in silence.
“Big strong elf acting like a twit because I neglected you a bit,” I gnarled.
“Aw, are you going to throw a temper tantrum now? I’m sorry, little Dy’ne. My world doesn’t revolve around your cunt or your feelings.” Again I swung to punch him, and when he caught my fist I yowled quietly in frustration. “You should really learn to use your words, Dy’ne. Are you done?” He smirked at me. I growled wordlessly and nodded, and he released my fist.
* * * *
Heves was mostly a burned-out ruin, though the Dawn appeared to be rallying behind the scorched temple. They ignored the loss of innocent lives and claimed it as proof that no matter what those in the darkness did they couldn’t snuff out the light of the Dawn. There was also an alternative narrative, which said that the devotion of the worshippers is what caused the fire. Its persistence—according to them—was because it refused to burn out until it purged the city of corruption. I grinned at the pamphlets that littered the fields. We kept from the main road and the city itself, but I could make out the increased presence of guards as we made our way past. It was like they knew what Aneurin was intending to do.
It was dusk when we reached the camp, and everyone welcomed Yorwrath and Aneurin back with open arms and tight embraces. While we were gone a visitor had arrived, and the far side of camp was full of purple tents draped in heavy canvas. Drums sounded, in an almost dirgelike droning, as a procession filed out from those tents. Horns sounded as I dismounted Caoilfionn, my attention focused on the approaching group.
Males—both human and elven, with bare chests and collars around their throats—carried a litter. On the litter sat two pixies, one blonde with long golden hair and irises the color of bluebells that were startling in her tanned face. She was topless, her ample breasts displayed for all eyes to see. It was how pixies gauged the worthiness of their allies. If their allies could keep eye contact, they would fight beside them; if they couldn’t, they usually killed the females and took the males as slaves. The blonde had on nothing but a pair of soft leather trousers. Leaning against her leg was a sword and a shield with an elaborate pattern on it that I couldn’t make out in the firelit dark. Beside the blonde was another topless female. Her eyes were gray, and her hair was so black that in the darkness it looked almost blue. Those almost navy tresses fell loosely around her to her waist, and at her hips was a skirt of the sheerest white silk.
The litter was set down, and the slaves helped the two women step off. Each man was armed with a short sword, and I was betting they’d all lay down their lives for their mistresses. The two females walked hand in hand to stand before Aneurin, barely coming up to his chest. They both looked him over for a moment. The warrior’s gaze, however, traveled to Yorwrath, and she licked her lips hungrily before returning her attention to Aneurin.
“We thought to come see you for ourselves, Swynwr. My mate does not believe you are truly he who was born amongst death. We traveled all the way from Vanotti to see whether or not you are worthy.”
“Amita’Ahti, you and your mate are very welcome amidst my camp, and I hope I do not disappoint either of you. I am indeed he who was born amongst death,” Aneurin said, carefully leveling his gaze to theirs.
“What about my six hundred warriors? Are they welcome too?” The warrior, Amita’Ahti, snorted. “You tart your words up like you were speaking to some soft human girl. I’m the queen of the pixies. I am the Knife of the Dark. I am a direct descendant of Aditi’Alala—the fiercest of female warriors. Talk to me like a woman and not like a child.” Her voice was soft, melodious, and deep. Standing tall and straight she was only slightly shorter than I, which made her voice more than a little surprising.
“Be straight with us, Swynwr. That is all we ask. We are a more direct people than you elves,” the dark-haired one said as she linked arms again with her mate. “Come, we can discuss our alliance in more depth over a meal.” They ushered Aneurin away. As I watched them walk I was mesmerized for a moment by the opalescent wings draped from the two pixie’s backs, looking like sheer capes.
Yorwrath walked away with another grave-looking Redcap, and Islwyn simply left without a word, leaving me, Caoilfionn and Grwn to stand at the edge of camp looking over everyone gathered there. Grwn stared at me for a bit before speaking.
“We’ll probably move camp tomorrow, maybe the day after. It shouldn’t take more than two days for Dryslwyn Tanllyd to surrender, and then I’m heading to the coast, and I’d like you to come with me. I think you’d be happier there. You’re a good person, Valentina. That’s rare as shit these days. They would be more than happy for you to be a Cunning Woman there. Lyr’s tolerant,” Grwn offered with a smirk.
“I’ll think about it.”
“That’s all I ask.” With a small nod, he turned around and walked off, leaving me beside Caoilfionn. No one seemed to care that I was there anymore. My, how things had changed.
Chapter Eighteen
Aneurin spent his time with the pixie queen and her mate, as did Islwyn. Yorwrath and Grwn met briefly with the other Redcaps while their captives packed up their tents. I didn’t sleep. I couldn’t sleep. Instead, I spent the night tearing linen for bandages with Caoilfionn and their healers. As dawn cr
ested the entire camp started packing up and I got to witness the Redcaps in full strength. I watched them ride out at dawn, as I stood beside the large fire at the center of camp. Roughly ninety elves with those red bandannas stepped from their tents with weapons in hand. Yorwrath and I stared at each other while I watched him talk to Grwn. I made a point to look away first, turning to smile at the others as the women of Yorwrath’s collection meandered through camp and started taking down Aneurin’s tent.
“I’m going to gather some herbs,” I stated after Yorwrath had ridden off at the head of his host of Redcaps. No one tried to stop me, not even Caoilfionn. The pale unicorn simply nodded a bit, casting a warm smile in my direction before returning to the task at hand.
The scent of the forest in the morning was indescribable. It might have been colder than a yeti’s left nut, but the air was crisp, and the quiet let me forget about everything. Pulling my hood up I walked among the trees, carefully surveying the forest floor. I was hunting lichen for my ointment. Needless to say, I didn’t trust the age of the stuff Caoilfionn had brought from the tower. And whereas dragon’s blood might not turn, I knew lichen could.
When I found a large patch of pale green-gray lichen growing on a large flat rock, I started humming to myself. Snatching a scrap of linen out of my pocket and my boot knife, I was careful as I scraped it from the rough gray stone. So careful that my attention was entirely focused on the precise motions. So focused that I didn’t hear the footsteps behind me.
“You should be more observant, Dy’ne. One day someone’s going to sneak up on you that actually means you harm,” Yorwrath grumbled behind me. Rolling my eyes, I continued to scrape up the lichen.
“Didn’t you ride out with your men?” I asked, keeping my attention focused on the task at hand.
“Aye, I did.”
“And you’re here because?” I asked, folding the linen into a secure little pouch.
“Because in three days’ time I might be dead, Dy’ne.”
“Shouldn’t you be scouting city gates or something?” I tucked it away and turned around.
In the pale early gray dawn, his irises were almost glowing, that metallic gold far more pronounced than it had been before. Whenever the light caught it, that gold flared to life. It made him seem all the more wild as he stared down at me. He had his bow on his back and sword at his side. The corner of his red bandanna was folded back, and for once both of his eyes were in view. He looked dangerous—then again, he always looked dangerous.
“I already know what the gates look like. I already know what the guard patrols look like. Dryslwyn Tanllyd is my home, Dy’ne. We weren’t going ahead to scout; we were going ahead to give the council time to consider.”
“Then why are you here and not on your way there?” I tucked my knife back into my boot, and he sighed heavily.
“I wanted to see you, Dy’ne. That should be a given.” He crossed his arms, and I rolled my eyes before turning around to continue my search for herbs.
“Well, you’ve seen me,” I half grunted as I checked the leaves of a nearby bush.
“There’s foxglove over there to your left, Dy’ne.”
Glancing over my shoulder, I stared at him for a moment before I stepped around the bush to see the large flowering bright pink plant. Retrieving my boot knife once again, I started trimming the plant into another scrap of linen. I was carefully cutting a few of the flowers when I found myself turned around roughly. Yorwrath pressed his lips to mine before I could think or react. He kissed me hard and deep as the knife fell from my fingertips and my body melted against his in the cold of the morning. He broke the kiss and added another sweet peck before he raised his gaze to mine.
“Stay alive,” I breathed into his mouth.
“I don’t plan on dying anytime soon, Dy’ne.” The words rumbled from his throat as he continued to linger close.
“Good.” I beamed up at him, and he stepped from me, disappearing back into the forest as quickly as he came.
* * * *
By midday, we were on the road to Dryslwyn Tanllyd. Apparently it was a day and a half away, according to some of the women in Yorwrath’s collection. I rode at the head of the procession with Aneurin, Islwyn, and Amita’Ahti. Her mate was in a covered litter carried by their war-husbands. Amita’Ahti wore a shirt now, a leather bodice covered in tiny metal plates that contoured her body. Across her shoulders was a heavy green and blue cloak tied to the thick golden torque around her throat, embossed with pixies in flight wielding swords. Atop her glistening golden hair in its elaborate plaits was a twisted golden circlet. She looked like a warrior queen with her sword at her hip and that elaborate shield on the side of her saddle.
“It’s been a time since I’ve bloodied my blade on an elf. You were still a babe at your mother’s breast,” she said, shooting a quick glance at Aneurin. “If I’m honest, I hope they deny you. It’s always good to start your reign with bloodshed. It shows your people that you are a true leader. Will we get to see a demonstration of your powers, Swynwr?”
“Some might also argue that in fighting early you’re also demonstrating your weaknesses,” I said with a small smirk. Caoilfionn snuffed at me and tossed his head.
“You are a human and a slave. We geld ours when they open their mouths unprovoked. What do you plan on doing to your little gnat, Aneurin?” she growled, though she never looked back at me. I started laughing.
“Go ride back with Yorwrath’s slaves, Valentina.” Aneurin glanced back at me, and I glared at him.
“Do you really want to do this now, Aneurin?”
“Go, Valentina.”
“No. I’m more than just some human slave who has been deemed addas. We spoke vows. They might not mean a thing to you now, but I know what they afford me.”
“She’s your wife?” Amita’Ahti seemed disgusted, and only then did she glance back at me.
“Oh, did he not mention that while he was fucking you and your mate last night?” I smiled wide, and Islwyn sighed.
“It’s a complicated matter. But no, we are not handfasted. She is a favorite slave, nothing more.” The words cut me to the core. I knew it wasn’t my Aneurin saying them, but it was still his voice, still his lips, and still those mismatched eyes that narrowed at me in displeasure.
“Fine,” I snapped, tugging a bit on the reins as I dropped back in the procession to where Yorwrath’s collection rode on their cart.
* * * *
The rest of the journey was a haze. It was as though I blinked and it was suddenly midnight. The other slaves around me hurried to their tasks of setting up their master’s tents, but I simply sat there on Caoilfionn’s back. After the bonfire was lit in the middle of camp, I slipped from the saddle and Caoilfionn instantly transformed in that characteristic flash.
“Are you staying?” he asked as his ever-changing irises met mine. All I saw in them was concern.
“I’m leaving when Grwn gets back,” I stated, adjusting my pack on my back.
“You mean we’re leaving.” He flashed me a smile, and I nodded. “You’re still bothered by earlier.”
“Should I lie and say no? Yes, I’m still bothered by it. I expected it, but still it fucking hurt.”
“And you still want to help the medics?”
“Yes, I figure I might as well do some good while I wait.”
“As my lady wishes.” He grinned a little, and I rolled my eyes.
“I’m not a lady. I’m not a queen. I’m a slave, apparently, or a whore.”
“Arwn’s Gift is neither of those things, so you cannot possibly be them. That isn’t Aneurin. It may look like him and sound like him, but it is holding your Aneurin prisoner for its own aims.”
“It doesn’t make it hurt any less.”
“Leaving will make it hurt less. I believe he would want you to leave rather than risk the degradation that is within his right to heap upon you as a slave.”
“Let’s hope the siege is quick and not one for the histori
es.” I sighed, pulling my fingers back through my hair. When I finished, one of Yorwrath’s collection approached us. It was Pwyll’s daughter. She looked every bit the concubine with her face painted and her hair piled elaborately high with glistening curls that spilled down her back.
“The Swynwr wishes to see you,” she practically sang, beaming down at me.
“Fine,” I growled. “Lead the way.”
We walked through the tent village, which seemed to have popped up out of nowhere and in hardly any time at all. Aneurin’s new tent was bigger than it had been before, with heavier canvas that was embroidered with leaves in various shades of green. It looked like a king’s tent now. There was no doubt about it—this new Aneurin was stepping into his role as Swynwr. Inside, the tent was as sumptuous as any king’s chamber. Thick furs covered the floor and the large four-poster bed in the middle of the room. There was a small table set with silver candlesticks with two cushioned chairs at it. There was even a chest of drawers with a mirror. In the far corner was a brazier, and before it was a tub filled with steaming water, and in it, Aneurin.
“Getting ready to plow the pixie queen again?” I asked, crossing my arms.
“More like recovering.” He beamed at me, and I turned my gaze to the wooden beams of the tent and kept it there. I didn’t want to look at him.
“And you called me here to what? Torment me more?”
“No, I called you here to see if you’d like a bath. You represent me whether you like it or not, and I can’t have you running around reeking like an unwashed Dy’ne beggar. I also wanted to offer it as a peace offering.”
“Let me guess: you’ll be in the bath too. Right?” I twitched my head to the side and stared at the canvas ceiling.
“Yes. I can pretend to be him if you’d like, and maybe if you cooperate I’ll give you moments with him in private, if you demonstrate your loyalty to my liking.”
Heart of the Forest (Arwn's Gift Book 1) Page 25
