A roguish grin bent the corners of his mouth and he scratched, unashamed. “Something I can do for you?”
Her mouth hung slack, but she couldn’t close it. Supple curving muscle and the dark, radiant smoothness of his skin stole the breath from her body. Like the silver runes tattooed on his skin, his image inked itself into her mind.
Her hand flew to her eyes. “Ohmy – I did not mean – please, my apologies!” She slammed the door.
She leaned against the wall and shut her eyes, but all she saw was skin. She had never seen a naked man before, elf or otherwise. Were they all so... Was he always that... Her shame at intruding was compounded by her burning desire to see him again. Something between panic and need sluiced through her. She tipped her head back against the wall and sucked air into her lungs. Laughter echoed through the door.
Wretched halfling. Blast him! He wrecked her kitchen, depleted her food supply and now this. Of course, she was the one who’d burst into the room unannounced. But she refused to claim fault. He shouldn’t have been naked in her house. She stomped off to repair her kitchen, muttering under her breath about the bothersome creature occupying her spare room, still unable to wash his image from her head.
* * *
It pleased him that Jessalyne had caught him while morning’s rigor still engaged his body. He only hoped he hadn’t frightened her. He tried again to read her, feeling with his mind for the wards that held his senses captive. The magic was weaker than before and he quickly found a way through it.
She rushed into his head like new wine, her quickened breaths, the thrum of blood in her veins, her pounding heart. He realized with a start there was no fear in her. She was a mix of curiosity, longing, embarrassment, and indignation.
No lust, no prideful desire. None of that existed in her, just a sense of need he wondered if she understood. She was a true innocent, not some wagtail in one of the taverns he frequented. Neither did she look at him as a conquest to be bragged about over her cups. She’d probably never even been in a tavern.
As flattered as he was with her reaction, guilt racked him. Life in the Legions had brought few true innocents his way. He resolved to treat her more gently and provoke her less.
But the rogue in him found it nigh impossible to look at her and not imagine her beneath him, her moonlight skin glistening with sweat, her heat drawing him deeper, her honeyed scent rising around him, her voice ragged with need as she whispered his name. He shook his head free of the image too late to keep his body from responding. No wonder she thought him a beast.
His thoughts turned to the remainder of her father’s money. He would keep one bag of silver for payment and give the rest to her. If she were truly going to Shaldar City to find the king’s magewoman, she’d need it. Weighing a bag of gold in his hand, he growled. Freedom would have to wait.
* * *
Jessalyne attacked the mess in her scullery, trying to scrub his image out of her head at the same time. What it would feel like to be in his arms? Or any man’s arms for that matter? Maybe he would kiss her. Heat swept through her hidden parts. She cleaned with renewed vigor. She could never let him get that close. Tyber said dark elves were known for their temper. Burning Ertemis would be a quick way to see if Tyber were right.
In short order, she restored the room and checked her remaining supplies for something to turn into breakfast. She settled on oatcakes and blackberries fresh from the thicket outside her kitchen door. Batter sizzled as she poured thick puddles onto the oiled stone griddle. She cleaned the berries while the cakes cooked. It didn’t take long for Ertemis to appear in the kitchen.
He was dressed, but her mind knew too well what hid beneath. “You cannot possibly be hungry after eating the larder bare last night.” She busied herself with flipping oatcakes.
“Aye, but I am.” He stayed near the door, giving her space. “May I have some after I feed and water Dragon and Petal?”
That he asked almost felled her. He was being oddly civil. She glanced at him. “Yes. Thank you. I am not used to having a beast to look after.”
He exhaled softly. “It has been ages since anyone felt I needed looking after.”
Jessalyne scooped the last oatcake off the griddle. “I didn’t mean you were a beast.” She turned when he didn’t reply. He was gone. For a man of such size, he moved with unnatural silence.
Not long after breakfast, Lord Tyber showed up with Ertemis’s weapons. As Jessalyne had asked, Lady Dauphine accompanied him as well. Corah tagged behind.
“Good morning.” Jessalyne ushered them in. Tyber nodded at Ertemis leaning against the wall near the kitchen. Ertemis nodded in reply. Both men eyeing the other warily.
She took a deep breath before she began. “As you know, I was very curious about how Petal came to lead Ertemis here. As it turns out, my father hired Ertemis to protect him while he traveled. The fever that incapacitated Ertemis was my father’s undoing. Before he died, he charged Ertemis with delivering a key to me. That key unlocked a box holding a letter from my lady mother. In the letter, she revealed I am to apprentice with Lord King Maelthorn’s magewoman, Sryka. And I plan on leaving today.”
Corah looked stricken. Lady Dauphine covered her mouth with her hand and shimmered as if she might shift right then and there. “But we need you. What if Orit falls again?”
“I’ll leave my mother’s books behind for Corah, and I am certain Orit will be more careful from now on.”
Lord Tyber, ever practical, spoke next. “If your mind is made up, I’ll send two of my guards with you.”
Jessalyne sighed. She did not want to travel escorted like a child. This was her chance to discover life on her own. “Lord Tyber, I appreciate your offer but it’s unnecessary. I’m a grown woman. I can find my way.”
“You may be a grown woman, but you know little of the world. A woman traveling alone, especially one such as you, is easy prey. All the realm is not Fairleigh Grove. They will ride with you as far as Shaldar City’s gates.”
Tyber might be right, but she still didn’t want cervidae guards accompanying her. If Mistress Sryka turned her away or had already chosen another apprentice, she wanted to return with her dignity intact. She caught Ertemis’s gaze and held it while she spoke. “Lord Tyber, I didn’t want to tell you because I knew you wouldn’t approve but I have already contracted the elf to be my shield.”
Ertemis raised a single eyebrow but said nothing.
She kept talking, “He agrees it is the bare minimum he can do to repay my healing him. Besides, I insisted on paying him. The deal has been struck.”
Jessalyne looked back at Tyber. “I feel it’s best. No need for your men to make a return trip.”
Lord Tyber shook his head. “I’ll honor your decision.” He looked hard at Ertemis. “I would speak with you outside while the women say their farewells.”
Ertemis followed Tyber through the door and faced the Alpha Buck on the flagstone path. He was not surprised to see a quadroon of Tyber’s men waiting outside. Tyber shut the door. His men tightened their stance by a hair.
Crossing his arms, Ertemis leaned against the bell post. “Is this where you tell me you’ll hunt me down and kill me if I touch her?”
Tyber snorted and shook his head. “Touch her and she may kill you herself.”
Ertemis narrowed his eyes at the man’s words, unsure how Jessalyne would manage that.
Tyber notched his head up. “I wasn’t at a border dispute yesterday. I was confirming my suspicions about the dark elf with the Legion-issued sword. The Legionnaire I spoke with recognized your sword, but I only told him I purchased it from a band of Travelers.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He kept his body still, his muscles loose and ready. The Legion hadn’t wasted much time.
Tyber ignored him and continued. “If you harm her, I will take great pleasure in collecting the price on your head, halfling. And for your knowledge, the Legion doesn’t require you alive. Do I make myself clear?�
��
Ertemis uncrossed his arms and met Tyber’s cold gaze with his own. “Aye.”
* * *
Back inside, Jessalyne said her farewells. Corah promised to look after the cottage and tend the garden. Dauphine thanked her again for healing Orit. Tyber gave Ertemis his weapons. Jessalyne saw something flicker in the eyes of both men as Ertemis buckled his sword belt.
Once the cervidae were gone, she steeled herself for his protest about her quickly hatched scheme. It didn’t take long.
“As tempting as you might think it sounds, I have no intention of traipsing through the countryside with you on some foolish quest. I have better things to do.” Ertemis slipped his Feyre into his boot.
“I said I would pay you and I meant it.”
“I’ve got all the herbs I need.”
She ran to her bedroom and grabbed one of the sacks of coins left by her father over the years. She plopped the heavy pouch into Ertemis’s palm.
He opened it. Gold. He looked at it again. “Where did you get this?”
“My father. He soothed his conscience by giving me money.”
“How much of this do you have?”
“More than I need.”
Shaking his head, Ertemis dug in his bag. “Your father wanted you to have these as well.”
Jessalyne took the bags, but shot Ertemis an odd look. “Did you forget you had them?”
“It slipped my mind.”
Not blasted likely. She stared at him for a moment. “Then you accept what I’ve proposed?”
“Aye, for this much coin I would carry you there.” Ertemis gave her a half-hearted smile.
“That will not be required.” This was going to be a long journey with such company. “Will you fetch Dragon and Petal and bring them to the house? I’ll bring my bundles outside to meet you.”
“Bundles? Perhaps I should educate you on packing for travel. Let me see these bundles.”
Despite her misgivings, Jessalyne led him into her bedroom, dumping the coin pouches onto the bed next to a mound of parcels—rolled and folded, tied and ready to go.
“Hah!” Ertemis surveyed the pile with his hands on his hips. “Surely, you jest. Not half of this will be coming.”
“What? Why?” Jessalyne watched Ertemis rifle through her things, appalled with his lack of regard for what she considered necessary. After she stopped him from discarding an item for the third time, he growled at her.
“You cannot take all this! You have coin enough to purchase what you need.” He sighed. “Petal may be a donkey, but there is no need to overload her.”
“Fine. But this goes with me.” Jessalyne patted the box holding her mother’s letter and the dagger.
“Just the contents.” He shook his head. “Not the box.”
Resigned, Jessalyne folded her mother’s letter and tucked it into the pouch on her belt. She lifted the sheathed dagger and stuffed it into her bedroll. Ertemis caught her hand, his rough fingers gently snagging her wrist.
“Always keep your blade handy.” He unlatched her waist belt and ran it through the loop on the dagger’s sheath, then refastened the tooled leather around her hips. Heat flared over her. For a man with such large hands, his fingers were surprisingly nimble.
* * *
Ertemis struggled to concentrate as Jessalyne’s scent curled around him. The gentle rhythm of her beating heart filled his ears. She smelled of flowers, sunshine and sweetness. Heat radiated off her like a blacksmith’s shop.
“Thank you,” she said, her voice small and breathy.
He lost himself in the liquid lavender of her eyes. Less than the length of his Feyre separated them. Her lips moved. He realized she had said something else. The urge to kiss her overwhelmed him. He stepped away to give himself recess. He couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. “What?”
For the first time, she smiled at him. “I said that is better than having it hidden away in my bedroll.” She patted the dagger.
The smile lit her face from within. Ertemis just nodded. Saladan’s britches, she bewitched him. This was going to be a very long trip. Think of the coin, he told himself. Being paid to go somewhere he needed to go anyway was no burden.
“I’ll go pack what little you left in the larder.” She almost laughed.
“Uh, good, the animals.” Ertemis gestured toward the outside, stumbling over his words. “I’ll be back.” He needed fresh air. His head swam with her perfume. Perhaps she had magic after all. He felt utterly bespelled.
The air cooled his blood as he brought the animals down from the stable. He finished adjusting his saddle. Dragon stomped the ground, eager to be off.
He turned to ready Petal and frowned. There was no saddle for Jessalyne. He doubted she was schooled in riding or had ever ridden at all. Without proper tack, she would suffer more than necessary. He could share his saddle with her but having her so near, her backside pressed against his—he started calculating sums in his head until his blood cooled.
They would stop at the first town and purchase a decent saddle. He would buy it using some of the too-generous sum she’d paid him.
Jessalyne came out of the house, bedroll tucked beneath one arm, rucksack in her hand. Her hair was braided in a plait down her back.
He hooked the clasp of his cloak and tugged his hood down over his eyes. Without asking, he knew she would not be willing to wait until nightfall to travel. “There’s no saddle for Petal. Do you know how to ride bareback?” He already knew the answer to that question as well.
“No. Is it hard?”
“It isn’t easy even if you’re skilled.” He sighed. “You may share my saddle with me, if you wish.” He regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth.
She stayed close to Petal, stroking the jenny’s back. “I’ll be fine without a saddle.”
Mostly relieved, he nodded. “We’ll stop at the first town and purchase one.”
As Ertemis mounted, Jessalyne placed both hands on Petal’s back and pulled herself up. He turned. She laid belly over the donkey. “What are you doing?”
“I am trying to get on, what does it look like?”
“Not that,” Ertemis muttered as he hopped off Dragon. He knit his fingers together to form a step and held his hands below Petal’s side. “Step up.”
Jessalyne placed her foot into his hands and rested her palm on his shoulder. Her light touch shot warmth down his spine to pool as hunger in his belly. He hoisted her onto Petal’s back but she fidgeted, trying to get comfortable.
“In a gown you cannot ride straddle as a man, so bend your knee...” He nudged her slippered foot to bend her leg. “And hook your foot beneath your other leg like so.” His hand lingered longer than necessary on the slim arch of her foot.
“How does that feel?” He swallowed, remembering to breathe.
She stroked Petal’s mane, her voice soft. “Thank you, I think that will do.”
Indeed it would. Touching her was a great distraction. She was job. A package to be delivered. Nothing more. Ertemis jumped astride Dragon once again. “Off to Shaldar City then.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Where else would the king’s magewoman be except near the king?” Why did she have to smell so good? Feel so soft?
“Do you know what direction Shaldar City is from here?”
He frowned and stared into the distance. “Once we’re out of the wood the way will become clear.”
“Yes, I’m sure it will be. Until then…” Jessalyne slid the dagger from its sheath and gripped the handle. She swept the blade through the air. Halfway across the horizon line, the lunestone flared to life.
“There,” she said, pointing with the blade.
Chapter Five
Crisp winds scrubbed the wall walk around Sryka. She pulled her robes tighter, loose gray locks tangling in an updraft. The sun shone brightly but the winds carried a faint chill, and old bones held little heat.
She peered into the courtyard below, but the height o
f the tower and her age prevented her from discerning much detail. Prince Erebus pranced about down there somewhere, no doubt preening for the simpering skirts that clung to him like flies to dung.
If only the child would come. The Prince grew angrier with her, but she had done all she could. Her spells hadn’t failed. The glamour she’d cast on the child’s mother had worked well, transforming the homely woman to a jade-eyed, scarlet-haired beauty before Sryka’s eyes. She’d watched the pathetic woman drink down the potions, heard her chant the words. The fertility spells must have worked. Sryka’s magic was as sure as the king’s mortality.
In her heart, she believed the child would come. But after so many years, she held little hope the girl would still be acceptable. Prince Erebus would expect a virgin bride, and the spell required untainted flesh. Bride. As if the King had already blessed this one fit to wed his son. If necessary, she would charm the King into blessing the union, just as she would charm Erebus into accepting the girl. Whatever it took, she would do.
Sryka spat over the parapets. She hoped the juicy gob landed squarely on Prince Erebus’ vain head. The thought made her smile. He would get his. Once she controlled the child. The kingdom, youth, power...it would all be hers.
Small warmth spread through her, and she thought little of it until it centered itself in her chest. Sryka paused, gripping the stone ledge, wondering, wanting it to be true. She reached into the folds of her robes and pulled the amulet free. The lunestone pulsed warm and lively in the amulet’s center. Her hand trembled. The girl child came.
* * *
The scenery they traveled through was so different from the grove, but still not as interesting as the elf in her company. She focused on the way his broad shoulders tapered to the slender vee of his waist. How his cloak flowed over his expansive back. Time and again her mind imagined the trail of silver runes and the fine curve of backside that brought them to a halt.
The image built such heat in her, she thought it best to think of something else before she melted. She broke the stillness with a question. “Have you been to Shaldar City?”
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