“No, I also didn’t forget that you just rode hard for a day and a half to help the Swynwr catch this girl and put her in chains. So sorry about my skepticism at your newfound loyalties.”
“This isn’t a new loyalty. Yorwrath has the eyes of fire… You’ve seen it as well as I have. I just wasn’t sure he had the power until now. You know how I feel about Yorwrath.”
“Which is exactly why I’m skeptical.” Grwn narrowed his eyes at the hooded female.
“You’re entitled to your skepticism, but you follow him because he leads the Redcaps. We Dragons will follow him because he has been blessed by an actual dragon. And we’ll follow his orders above the Swynwr’s because whether you realize it or not, to be blessed like that is a big deal.”
“Is this where you threaten me if anything happens to him?”
“Damn straight, big boy.” With that, she nodded to the elf carrying Aneurin’s feet, and they walked into the back. Grwn sagged as the door closed.
“What was that?” I asked raising a brow.
“Ffraid being her usual charming self. Yorwrath will get a kick out of Ffraid saying she’ll follow him.”
“Why?”
“You could say they don’t get along.” He laughed a little. “But that’s like saying humans and elves don’t get along.”
“We get along.”
“And I love my wife, but that doesn’t stop it from being vastly understated on a larger scale.” He flashed me a smile and patted my head. “C’mon, I smell rabbit. I love Caoilfionn’s roast rabbit. When we get to the shore, I’m going to make him show Hedda how he does it. I love my wife, but I pity my children having to eat her food.”
“Do you think they’re going to drag me back?”
“No. I know they aren’t.”
“How can you be so certain?”
“Because the only one that wants to drag you back now—if I believe Ffraid—is Aneurin, or rather the Swynwr. That isn’t the Aneurin I knew. I’m going to do what the Aneurin I’m loyal to would want me to do. I’m going to take you to shore and make sure you’re safe there.”
“And Yorwrath?” I glanced at the muddy, limp form hanging over Grwn’s shoulder.
“I don’t know what his aims are, but I know he didn’t want you kept in chains. Is there some place I can put him down?”
“Yeah.” I walked into the back, and Grwn followed. Opening the door to my room, I gestured to the bed as Grwn dropped Yorwrath on the feather mattress. “Of plowing course,” Grwn grumbled he lifted up Yorwrath’s tunic, exposing a bandage that was soaked through.
“I’ll tend to him. Go eat your rabbit,” I said as I snatched one of my shifts from the floor and started to rip the linen into strips.
“If you say so… Call if you need anything.”
“I’ll be fine. Ask Caoilfionn to put water on. I’m sure my kettle survived the fire the sheepfuckers tried to set.”
“All right.” Grwn slipped out of the room after those words, leaving me with the unconscious, mud-slicked Yorwrath.
Setting the bandages aside, I left the room, passed those gathered in the hall, and walked down the stairs into the cellar. The air was stale and full of rotted herbs, which gave off a sickly sweet smell. Light was also a problem, as there was hardly any, which led me to grope around in the dark. The good thing was I still remembered where I had put things, and finding a needle, ointment, and thread only took a handful of moments. At the top of the steps, I paused and my brows furrowed.
My gaze traveled across the destroyed room, and I shook my head with a heavy sigh. Grumbling to myself, I stepped from the stairs and went to the back of the house, careful to close and lock the door behind me.
Insulated by habit, I stepped around the group hunkered down by the fire eating their rabbit. I didn’t even register what I was doing until I was kneeling beside Aneurin’s unconscious form with warm wet linen in my hand on his bare bruised chest. Swallowing, I looked down at his face, placid in its unconsciousness, beautiful even with the black eye and split lip. I cleaned the mud from his face and exposed flesh, passing my fingers over the skin I knew oh so well. A heavy sigh heaved in my chest as I stared down at his face. My vision grew misty, and with a sniffle I pulled myself to standing. Caoilfionn entered, holding a small vial.
“To keep him asleep until they reach Dryslwyn Tanllyd,” he offered, as he sat beside Aneurin’s unconscious form on the bed.
“Am I going to have to live in fear of him sending people to take me?”
“I don’t think so. Believe it or not, I believe it was Aneurin’s pull to you that brought him here. Once the Swynwr is focused on its duty, you’ll be safe. The war will keep you safe, and give me time to bring him back to you.”
“You say it as though there’s hope for it.”
“Because there is. There are spells for everything, and you simply need to know where to look.”
“And you do?”
“Yes, I actually do. I even know what book the spell should be found in. Unfortunately, there’s a problem locating thousand-year-old tomes. I don’t know where the book has gotten off to. They tend to switch hands hundreds of times and not everyone is keen on keeping records of their possessions.” He uncorked the vial, opened Aneurin’s mouth, and massaged the elf’s throat, forcing him to swallow. “It might take a while for me to track down the tome, but I’m certain it will point us in the right direction if not contain the actual spell.” I stared down at Aneurin after Caoilfionn finished speaking.
“Hopefully, it doesn’t take a century.” I flashed him a little grin and left.
When I reached my old room I paused and stared at Yorwrath. The mud had started to dry. The deep brown was now chalky. It began to peel and crack here and there. I knelt on the bed and lifted up his tunic, revealing the soaked bandage. Grousing, I pulled out my dagger and cut through the blood-soaked linen. The wound beneath was a sword slash, and that was when I noticed that Yorwrath wore a different tunic than he usually did. The leather was new and still smelled of the dye they used to make it so dark a green.
“Idiot,” I purred happily as I looked at the wound. Whoever had bandaged the gash at his side hadn’t done anything else to the sliced flesh. It was clear he needed stitches, but he hadn’t let the healer tend him. I could almost imagine him shoving them away as they approached him with the needle. I wiped the torn flesh with the linen and found it to be a very clean sword cut. I actually marveled for a moment at how clean the cut was. The blade would have had to be as sharp as a razor to cut so cleanly in a swipe. However, I didn’t marvel at those smooth edges for long as I realized that Yorwrath had been steadily bleeding out over the course of two days. Still, I treated the wound, salved it, and stitched it. His lips weren’t discolored, and he seemed no paler than normal, so I wasn’t going to worry too much about it. Instead, I sat on the bed beside him and watched as the noonday sun rose high in the sky and shined its warmth down through the window.
Eventually, he grunted and groaned into consciousness, scratching the caked dried mud out of his hair. From the window, I watched as Ffraid slung Aneurin over her saddle. The group of four rode off, with Aneurin’s tall white stallion Ys trailing behind them.
Yorwrath sat up and winced. With gritted teeth he lifted the edge of his tunic and sighed, peering down at the fresh bandage, before he finally looked at me. We stared at each other with blank expressions for a handful of moments. We weren’t the best at expressing ourselves.
“Thank you,” I practically whispered. That soft admission of gratitude made him nod slowly.
“Mmm,” he grunted. That golden gaze darted around the room before settling back on me. He moved his tongue over his teeth, and he watched the riders disappear on the horizon. “I didn’t do it for you, Dy’ne,” he added after the hoofbeats died to nothingness.
“Oh? Who did you do it for then? Aneurin? Yourself?” I raised a brow, and he looked away from me.
“Grwn. He is fond of you for whatever reason
, Dy’ne. I’d say he probably has dreams about that tight little flower between your thi—” I cut him off with a slap, and he grabbed my wrist and pulled me astride him. There were no words as our mouths hungrily ate at each other. Sitting astride his hips, I could feel the press of his hard, ridged flesh that desperately sought out the moist heat the apex of my body offered. He continued to hold my wrist captive as I moaned into his mouth, but the moment he released me I shoved him back on the bed. He lay there snickering as he stared up at me.
“Grwn? Seriously?”
“What do you expect from me, Dy’ne? Some childish confession of sentiment?” The laughter faded from his face. “Or perhaps for me to admit that when he said he’d put you in chains that I wanted to end my brother right then and there? That I was willing to kill my own brother over some Dy’ne slut? Is that what you wanted?”
My eyelid twitched, and I lunged forward with a feral roar, closing my hands around his throat as I attempted to strangle him. With a twist of his hips, he flipped us, and I hit the mattress hard enough that the wind was knocked from my lungs. I slapped and clawed at him, and my actions won me my wrists pinned above my head as he loomed over me, pressing his hips firmly to mine as we panted hard and heavy.
“Or did you want me to say I did it because I love you?” He paused and swallowed as he stared down at me. Then he continued, “Because I’m sure as shit never going to say that to a goat-plowing Dy’ne like you.”
We growled at one another as I pressed my knee into the freshly stitched wound at his side. I watched as his jaw clenched against the pain but he didn’t move. Our chests heaved almost violently as we glared at each other. Our glares eventually softened, and we stared at each other. Yorwrath was leaning down to kiss me as the door opened and he jumped back so fast I scarcely saw him move.
“We should start riding within the hour if we want to reach an inn before dark,” Caoilfionn said softly, as that pale gaze drifted between us. Without another word he turned and left the room.
“Did you fuck my brother on this bed, Dy’ne?” Yorwrath asked as he shook the last of the dirt from his hair. I opened my mouth to reply but instead rolled my eyes and got out of the bed. He was desperately trying to overcompensate for the fact that he had done all he had to keep me safe.
“Yep,” I replied with a smile before I left the room and grabbed my sword from where it leaned against the wall. “So how long will it take to get to the shore?”
“A week or two if the weather holds,” Grwn answered as he wrapped a portion of cooked rabbit in some linen. “Longer if it snows early.”
“It will snow before we reach the coast,” Caoilfionn called from the charred common room.
“Wonderful,” I grumbled as I stretched and pulled my bag over my shoulder.
“There are some friendly inns along the way. You’ll get to sleep in a nice warm bed every other night. Probably even get to bathe.”
* * * *
The snows came early, like Caoilfionn said. Everyone had gone to sleep around the fire except for myself. It was frigidly cold, and the howl of the wind through the trees and the crackle and pop of branches clashing against one another with every gust made it impossible for me to sleep. I sat up in my bedroll and watched as the thick fat fluffy flakes fell from the sky. It was a wet snow. The flurries melted when they hit the ground, but that didn’t stop it from making it colder than an ice giant’s tits. I scooted closer to the fire. We were almost there, or at least that was what Grwn had told me that morning. Traveling was slow, we had been on the road for a week and a half, and the last inn we passed was preparing for the harvest festival. That meant autumn was half over already. Time was moving too quickly for my liking. How long would it be before I forgot Aneurin’s face or the feel of his arms around me?
Across the fire, Yorwrath sat up with a grumble, walked to a nearby tree, and proceeded to relieve himself as he sniffled and spat into the woods.
“Cold, Dy’ne?” he asked as he returned to the fireside. I just stared at him as my teeth chattered uncontrollably. I needed a thicker cloak. He laughed a little and ran his fingers through his hair. “Come here.” He beckoned me over, and I peered at him curiously.
“Why?”
“Because I’m not going to be able to go back to sleep with the clicking of your plowing teeth, Dy’ne. Body heat helps with the cold, and I’m plenty warm enough. Now stop being a child and get over here.” I would have argued with him if I was warmer. As it stood, I could barely form coherent thoughts, I was so cold. So I walked over and lay beside him on his pallet, and he pulled his blanket over both of us. He was so warm a soft moan escaped my lips as I settled against him. Sliding his hand down my side to my waist, he pulled me back against his body, trapping me against his delicious heat. “I think Islwyn screwed up the ritual on purpose.”
“How? Why, even?”
“Think, Dy’ne. He gets everything he ever wanted from the Swynwr. And he had the means of doing it; druids know things. I think he came inside of Aneurin and then inside of you after. It was acting since the moment it saw you, Dy’ne. Why would it go willingly to a ritual that would lock it up without some assurance?”
“I don’t want to talk about it anymore.” The sadness in my voice surprised me and cast Yorwrath into silence, stroking his hand up my side.
“I’m going to stay at the shore for a few weeks before returning. Help you get established. Grwn’s wife won’t be too pleased if he spends most of his time with a pretty Dy’ne like you.”
“You know about his family?”
“I always knew, Dy’ne. It doesn’t stop him from being a good second.”
“Gods, would the two of you kindly shut up,” Grwn grumbled sleepily, coaxing a dark cackle from Yorwrath. I fell asleep shortly after, Yorwrath’s warmth was intoxicating in the cold and lulled me to sleep faster than I had thought possible prior to that moment.
Yorwrath and I shared a pallet every night after that, and not once did he attempt anything. It was so strange to think that he was content to hold me and on occasion press his lips to the back of my neck. I still rode with Caoilfionn on the dapple during the day, and no one seemed to comment on the quiet closeness we shared at night.
* * * *
The shore wasn’t quite what I expected. Then again, I wasn’t certain what I was expecting. It was a rather bustling tiny hamlet tucked away in the countryside. It was flanked on two sides by forest and had small tracts of farmland off the main road. There were no walls. The town seemed almost idyllic. It was like something out of a dream more than reality. Children with clean faces ran through the streets in heavy cloaks. Some had pointed ears and others didn’t, but that didn’t stop them from playing together. Yorwrath and Grwn pulled the bandannas off their heads and tucked them away as we passed down the main road. The town square was full of small booths being set up for the harvest festival. A troubadour sang a mediocre song outside an inn about some princess being saved by some knight.
Across the courtyard, a pretty woman was buying herbs at a stall, when one of the children at her side turned and shrieked with delight when she saw Grwn. Her hair was long and fell in light brown waves down her back, her irises were the same shade of green as Grwn’s, her skin was as pale and her ears pointed in just the same way.
“Daddy!” she squealed as he lifted her onto the back of his horse. “Mummy said you wouldn’t be here for a week! Did you bring me something?”
“I don’t know? Have you been good?” he asked, as the woman walked over from the stall with a basket over her arm.
“I did all my chores!”
“Did you bother your brother?”
“Nope, not even once! But he cut the head off my dolly.” The little girl pouted as she clung to Grwn.
“Hywel!” Grwn bellowed, and a tall boy shied against the pretty woman as she made her way over to us.
“I already yelled at him for it, and, trust me, he got a sound switching,” the woman said as she reached us. The
way they looked at each other made my heart ache. Aneurin used to look at me like that, like there was no one else in the whole world. “Are your friends staying with us?” She didn’t seem too pleased as she looked us over.
“No, they’re setting Valentina up here. She was a Cunning Woman in her last town.”
“And then she fell in love with an elf, and they threatened her with the stake?” She turned to me. “Was that it? Trust me, you’re not the first pretty girl to end up here because she kissed the wrong kind of boy. But we need a Cunning Woman; we have a healer but the damn man is half blind, and I refuse to take the little ones to him.”
“It was something like that,” I said as I sighed.
“Well, if my Grwn liked you enough to travel with you, you’re good people in my book. Feel free to come for supper after you get settled. We’re having rabbit. Hywel caught a bunch this morn; the boy is as good as any pureblood elf with a bow.” Yorwrath scoffed, and Hedda, Grwn’s wife, shot him a look. “This fucker. Yorwrath, right? You’re not welcome anywhere near my fuckin’ home.” She glared at him.
“Hedda, he meant nothing by it. He’s just—”
“A racist prick. Ya know we all bleed the same blood. And if you cut an elf open he looks no different on the inside than a human. Isn’t that right, Miss Cunning Woman?”
“Yes, for the most part…” She was angry, and I didn’t want to correct her. There were some differences, but they were minor.
“Calm your Dy’ne, Grwn,” Yorwrath grumbled.
“Dy’ne?” She growled and for a moment I thought she was going to attack Yorwrath… For a moment, I wanted her to. Instead, she took a deep breath. “Watch your fucking mouth in front of my kids,” she snapped. “Come on Hywel, your father will be back around later.”
“Daddy, what’s ‘Dy’ne’ mean?” The little girl asked blinking her wide eyes at Grwn, who turned in the saddle to look at the bewildered five-year-old.
“It’s a bad word you should never ever say.”
“Is it a bad word for girls like H-O-R-E?” Grwn sighed as the girl continued to pester him.
Heart of the Forest (Arwn's Gift Book 1) Page 27
