He grinned, revealing a row of snaggle teeth. "I have a feeling your schedule is going to be wide open here in a few minutes."
Numbing fear overcame me, and I struggled to even think straight. Losing this fight was no longer an option in the slightest—not with that on the line.
So, using the method that felt right, I retaliated by hacking my blade at him once more, missing most of the time because I wasn’t nearly close enough.
Suddenly, Camilla leapt from a nearby rooftop and rolled across the sand, joining the fight. "Somebody get that girl an ax!" she shouted.
"A pickax?" I asked, brightening up. I didn’t particularly miss swinging the heavy thing around all day, but there was a degree of familiarity to it that would have been comforting right about now.
"No," she said, swinging her sword around and slicing at least three guys in a row. "An ax. One you could swing like a pickax, but that has a broad blade with the ability to fell trees and men alike."
As Camilla and the guys worked to take out the last of the thugs, I began to see her in a slightly different light. She was wickedly skilled in combat, light on her feet, and quiet as a mouse. Maybe she wasn’t my competition; maybe she could be my instructor? A trainer in the place of Taron and Tamara while I was away?
I stared in awe as she yanked her sword from the chest of the last thug on the ground. Everyone was panting and sweating and had some form of a cut, red mark, or bruise. Everyone except her.
Camilla raised a brow at me. "What?"
I raised both brows. "What what?"
"You’re looking at me weird."
"Am not," I argued.
"Are too."
"We’re not adding her to the group, Lexi," Dan said flatly. "No matter how sexy you think she is."
I laughed and shook my head. "It’s not that. I was just..." I turned to her. "I was wondering if you might be willing to teach me some fighting skills along the way?"
She wiped both sides of her sword on her baggy black pants, the blood blending in seamlessly with the dark fabric.
"I don’t see why not. Every woman should be able to fight, to defend herself if need be." She sheathed the long blade once it was mostly clean, then pointed her finger at me. "But if I’m training you, then I’m picking your weapon, and I’m choosing an ax."
"Done," I agreed. "Where do we get one?"
She sighed, then climbed back onto the roof, retrieving a pack she’d left up there before she joined the fight. After shouldering it, she leapt from the edge and opened it. "I was able to get us some meats and some canteens—"
"Oh, thank the gods," Dan muttered, snatching one of them out of the bag and chugging it.
"—but I still need to gather up some weapons. I’ll make sure I find you an ax before I’m done."
I smiled. "Thank you."
"Seriously, this time," she said, turning toward the guys, "take the camels to the well and stay out of trouble. I can’t keep coming back to bail you out of fights."
"We’ll be fine," Rob assured her with a glare. "We would have been fine without you during that last fight too."
She rolled her dark eyes. "Maybe. Maybe not."
Then she disappeared down an alley once more.
Ben sighed and walked over to the camels, which had scurried off to the far left, away from the fight. They’d found some grass peeking through the sands, but it was plastered flat to the ground thanks to the rain, so they had to root extra hard for it.
We’d just placed their reins in our hands when another thug approached. He looked just as vile as the others, but if his purple bandana was anything to go by, I’d guess he was from a different gang.
He held both hands up in goodwill, a yellowed piece of paper tucked between his middle and index fingers, but he sported a wicked grin that warned me he had no good intentions.
"A message came for my leader today," he said smoothly, "and he asked me to pass it on."
The thug dropped the paper to the ground, grinned a little wider, then disappeared back to the hell from which he’d come.
Cal shot us a grim glance then strode over and picked it up, unfolding the edges a little too slowly and carefully for my liking. I was antsy, itching to know what sort of bullshit awaited us this time. Though, I had a bad feeling I already knew who it was from.
The color drained from Cal’s face, confirming my theory.
"It’s from the Storm King."
Chapter 12
"What’s it say?" Rob demanded in a growly voice.
Cal took a calming breath and read the note aloud.
"My dearest children,
I hope you’re enjoying your vacation abroad. Your mothers are worried sick about you. They’re barely eating. I told them you were fine, much safer than anyone they knew, but they don’t seem to care. I hear it’s the rainy season over there. Hopefully it’s also nesting season. I look forward to seeing you in two weeks’ time.
Until then...
King Zacharias."
Dan scoffed. "So basically, ‘I’m starving your mothers, and you have two weeks left to bring back the egg.’"
Cal nodded grimly. "Basically."
"Gods fucking damn it!" Rob shouted, yanking on his dark hair. "I’m so tired of this shit."
So was I. I couldn’t imagine having to deal with that kind of mental torture for twenty years or more. It was a miracle they were all as sane and normal as they were.
I thought of the unsent letters I’d written to Mom and Gemma, and I was suddenly grateful they were still in my pack. I had a bad feeling any correspondence between me and them would only piss the Storm King off worse, inadvertently exacerbating their situation.
Ash and Ben looked a mixture of sad and angry, and I imagined I looked about the same.
"Come on," Ben eventually said. "Let’s feed and water these damned camels before we get attacked again. We really need to keep moving if we hope to be out of this kingdom in less than two weeks." He said the words flatly, as if even he didn’t believe the quest was possible anymore.
We were heckled and harassed on our way to the well, but thankfully not attacked.
"Foreign scum isn’t welcome here," a man shouted, brandishing a fist in the air.
"Go back where you came from," a woman sneered, lifting her nose at us.
"How many coins did you pay for your whore?" another man taunted, thrusting his hips in a crude gesture.
That last comment was apparently the straw that broke the camel’s back. Rob and Ash both spun around in unison, prepared to knock the guys teeth out, but Ben and Dan grabbed a hold of them and held them back.
"Ignore them," Cal insisted. "Their words mean nothing. You know that."
"Yeah, well they still piss me off," Rob seethed, ripping his arm from Dan’s grasp but thankfully not going after the guy.
"What kind of men are we if we don’t protect our girl’s honor?" Ash bit back. "I won’t tolerate anyone calling her a whore, Maltorians or not."
"Agreed," Rob said, glaring at everyone.
Apparently, the only thing that’d make them put their differences aside was me. Odd, considering the main reason they were fighting was also because of me.
"Is she a whore?" Cal asked rhetorically. "No. Are we scum? No. So just let it all slide."
No one argued against his words, but the electric tension in the air spoke louder than words ever could; they were pissed at each other.
When we reached the well, the camels lapped at the water as we refilled our canteens. There was a striped canopy shielding us from the rain that reminded me of the rind of a tropical fruit. Glares met us from every direction, men and women filling up jugs and vases, their hate and distrust for us almost a physical presence.
I found myself nervously wandering to the edge of the desert, hoping Camilla would return soon.
Speak of the devil, she suddenly sprinted into our midst like a wild beast was on her tail. She yanked the scarf from her face and shouted, "Let’s move!"
&
nbsp; She didn’t have to tell me twice. I clambered up onto my camel’s back and snapped the reins, giving his rear a nudge with my foot. I didn’t want to hurt him or anything, but I sure as hell didn’t want the Maltorians to catch up to us. Thankfully, my camel seemed to understand. He bellowed quickly and kicked into a long-legged run.
I had a feeling that Camilla’s means of procuring supplies was actually stealing them. I couldn’t even condemn her for it; it seemed to be the way everyone did business around here. Shit didn’t cost coins or jewels; it cost nerve. If you had the balls to steal something and the skill to get away with it, then you may as well have been rich.
We rode hard and fast for at least an hour before Camilla felt safe enough to slow down. She took a deep breath, glanced behind us one more time, just to be sure, then tossed me a golden ax. It was heavy, but the weight felt familiar in my hand. The hilt was wooden and etched in strange, intricate carvings. The head was sharp and glittered in the sunlight. I’d never been one to drool over weapons, but this one was actually quite beautiful. In Blackwood, it would have cost a very pretty jewel. Here in Eristan, it probably cost more nerve than I possessed. Camilla had risked a lot—probably even her life—to secure me this ax. I totally owed her.
"It fits your hand," she commented with a smile. "And your grip is flawless. How’d you learn to hold an ax without also learning combat skills?"
I chuckled. "Before I became a princess, I was a jewel miner. I’ve been handling pickaxes for years."
"Nice. How exactly does one go from being a lowly miner to becoming a luxurious princess?"
The guys were up ahead paying us no mind, so I figured it couldn’t hurt to chat with her a bit. Besides, it wasn’t like the whole thing was a great big secret.
"I suppose all it takes is... a magical almost-dead guy transferring his powers before keeling over. I never would have become a princess if it weren’t for magic."
"You used your magic to secure the crown?" she asked, genuinely curious rather than condescending.
"No, the Storm King found me and tried to kill me. I didn’t die. When he found out I had magic, he ordered me to marry one of his sons. He wanted our children to strengthen the Storm family line for generations to come."
"And you married Prince Calvin, right?"
I reached into the top of my gown, pulling out the necklace with my ring threaded through, allowing it to dangle between us.
"Yes. I married Cal."
Her smile faltered slightly, and a look of confusion crossed her face. "So, when the Storm brothers say they’re taken, what they mean is..."
"They mean by me. I may have been forced to marry Cal, but as you’ve no doubt noticed earlier, we all have a blood bond that means much more to us than ink on a parchment or a stone set in metal. We’re committed to one another, heart and soul, no ifs, ands, or buts."
I tucked the ring back into my bosom and glanced at her from the corner of my eye.
"Fair enough," she said, cocking her head. "I don’t know if my father will be quite as satisfied with that answer, though."
I raised a brow and narrowed my gaze. "He wants you to marry Ben, doesn’t he?"
She tittered airily, the tinkling tune of it practically echoing across the sand dunes. "Benson is the most eligible bachelor on the planet. No one is as perfectly attractive as he is."
I grinned and shook my head. As far as I was concerned, all the Storm brothers were striking. As far as everyone else seemed to care though, Ben was the cherry on top of the world’s ice cream sundae.
"So, he does want you to marry Ben?"
She nodded. "He does. And I certainly wouldn’t mind it. But I can see why it would be impossible. You’ll have to think of another way to appease my father when the time comes."
Yes, we would, because there was no way I was losing one of my Storms. I didn’t give up on Cal, and I wouldn’t give up on Ben. Even though I knew he wasn’t interested in her—he’d made that abundantly clear the other night—I refused to sit back and do nothing as the Eristani king tried to tear us apart.
My cheeks flushed as I remembered the last night I’d shared with Ben, and I faced forward, trying to hide my grin from Camilla. Of course, I only ended up focusing on the back of Ben’s head. His dark brown hair was wet and sexily mussed thanks to the incessant drizzle from the clouds. His white shirt clung to the thick muscles of his broad back, and droplets raced across the tan skin of his neck and arms before soaking into his form-fitting pants.
He really was incredible.
My gaze moved over to Cal, the biggest, most muscular mountain of a Storm. His blonde hair somehow managed to look like sunlight kissed it despite the rain, and his features were handsome yet carefully contained. Ever the perfect gentleman.
Then I glanced at Dan, who was only slightly shorter than the rest, but just as broad. Any inch he lacked in height was made up for by his charm, allure, and extreme good looks. When he flirted with me, I felt like the only girl in the room—the only girl in the world.
I shifted my stare over to Rob, who was dark and brooding as always. I was pretty sure the guy had a resting bitch face, but it was sexy as sin. The dark stubble along his jaw, coupled with the tattoos that covered most of his body, made him almost impossible to resist. When I added in his delicious protective nature, then it really was impossible.
Then I turned to Ash, the newest inclusion to the group, yet the longest holder of my heart. Ash was like a dream—handsome, strong, hilarious—though, I hadn’t seen much of his humor since he returned to his human form. He was probably too pissed off from being stuck as a sloth for six years and from trying to prove himself to his own brothers.
Ash rode next to Ben, the two of them laughing and joking around as they caught up on each other’s lives. Dan rode next to Rob, both guys chatting about one thing or another with dark and cocky grins on their faces. And then there was Cal, all alone at the head of the group, the leader fulfilling his duty, shouldering the burden alone.
It was a strange thought to be having, but I suddenly wished there was just one more Storm, to balance things out, so that Cal could have a brother as a best friend too.
Then I realized that would turn the number of Storm guys into an even one, and I quickly let the thought die an ugly death.
"Whoa," I heard Cal mutter to his camel, bringing our group to a stop.
My camel spit as I tugged on his reigns, and I was suddenly glad I was behind him rather than in front.
Ahead, stood a cloaked figure walking toward us with his hands out in front of him.
"Turn around, travelers," the man said. "Nothing but death awaits you at the Ley."
Were we that close? I thought for sure we were still days away.
"No worries, old man," Cal called out amicably. "We’re plenty capable of protecting ourselves no matter where we’re headed."
The old man’s eyes were sharp, far sharper than an old pair of eyes ought to look. "But that is where you are headed, no? The Lunaley?"
Cal nodded, apparently unfazed by the old man’s nosiness.
"Turn around," the man repeated. "There are demons living in that forest. Hellish creatures that will pluck out your eyes and suck your very soul from your bodies. Evil beasts that will slice you to ribbons and eat your flesh for breakfast."
Rob chuckled and turned to face those of us in the back row. "Are you hearing this dude?"
I nodded, but I wasn’t sure if I should grin or grimace. I wanted to believe he was exaggerating, but I couldn’t sense his feelings, so I couldn’t be positive that he wasn’t telling a terrifying truth.
As if on cue, Cal turned to us and nodded. "He believes what he's saying. I think the heat's gotten to him." He reached down and handed over his canteen to the poor guy. "Here. I think you’re dehydrated. This should get you to the next closest town—Maltor. It’s a dangerous place, but I still think you’ll have a better chance of survival there than wandering the desert alone."
The man to
ok the canteen and tipped it to his lips like a drunk might swig at a bottle of whisky. As he shuffled along and we passed him by high up on our camels, I felt a strange sensation of magic. It was difficult to describe, but it set the hairs of my arms on end and filled my chest with something lighter than air. I spun around, about to ask the man who he was or what he’d just done, but he was gone.
"Uh... guys," I said, scanning the desert but finding nothing but soggy sand dunes. "He’s gone."
"What do you mean he’s gone?" Cal asked, turning around.
"Like he’s dead?" Dan supplied, peering around me.
I shook my head. "No, like he’s fucking gone. Nowhere to be found. Just a figment of our imaginations."
"Couldn’t be," Ben decided. "We all saw him, and there’s no such thing as mass hallucination. There’s mass hysteria, and there’s folie a deux—a very interesting disorder shared by two people—but not a group."
"Okay," I agreed, knowing better than to doubt my human encyclopedia, "then what the hell happened to the guy?"
But nobody seemed to know. We searched the sands in every direction, calling for him, but it was just as I’d said—the man had simply disappeared.
Nothing but death awaits you at the Ley...
His words echoed in my mind, and whether he was real or imaginary, I hoped beyond hope that he was wrong.
"Who goes there?" a guard asked, stamping his spear into the ground.
Dirt not sand, I noted as I glanced around at our surroundings in bewilderment. There were trees ahead of us, tall trees with pink-and-purple-striped bark and mist floating between their trunks. It was impossible to tell what lay beyond that, because all I could see was misty trees fading into a gray abyss.
I turned back to the guard, who was shirtless with dark skin and big black wings that spread out behind him. So, clearly he was Eristani. But where the hell were we? At the Lunaley already? And if so, when the hell had we gotten there? The last thing I remembered was the desert stretching on and on for miles.
"Prince Calvin of Blackwood," Cal announced, answering the guard’s initial question. Then he gestured to the rest of us. "Along with Princes Benson, Robert, and Daniel."
Stormy Nights (Storms of Blackwood Book 2) Page 11
