by Lisa Ladew
They hadn’t just spent the time exploring each other’s bodies, but also had talked endlessly, exploring each other’s minds. They’d talked about dream worlds, deaths, dragons, books, movies and TV, wolves, gods, her father, his past, his family, prophecy, his powers, and her power. She’d learned so much about his preferences, like he liked classical literature and movies while she preferred contemporary, and he had a photographic memory.
Neither of them had traveled anywhere in their dreams the last two nights. Every morning when he woke up, he said he’d never felt so rested in his life. Plus, they’d agreed to hold off on the claiming until he sensed she was ready to go home. Dahlia figured he would probably know before she did.
He grasped her hip. “Why haven’t you asked the king for a parchment or something? They have to have some sort of paper here.”
Dahlia shrugged. “I’ve been trying to train my mind to remember my ideas better. I keep imagining a big file cabinet and putting stuff in files that are marked so I can come back and find them later.”
He nodded. “I bet that’s like weightlifting for your brain. Could you create something with your imagination right now if you wanted to?”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know, like a flower.”
She frowned. “Do you want me to try?”
He nodded and she concentrated, closing her eyes, thinking of a flower. What kind of a flower? A tulip. She’d always thought they were pretty. She imagined one in as much detail as she could come up with and opened her eyes, but nothing had appeared. He stood up and looked around the room, then shook his head.
“Oh, wait, I forgot the most important part.” Emotion. She closed her eyes again and tried to think how to bring emotion to a flower. Maybe she had to imagine a scene in which she could attach emotion to the flower. She smiled as she thought of Crew bringing her a handful of wildflowers. She watched as he picked every one of them in the field, passing over ones that weren’t good enough for her, dreaming of the way she would smile at him and kiss him when he presented them. She saw each spray of baby’s breath and every purple petal clearly in her mind and felt the love that would spread through her as she realized that he’d done it only to make her happy.
Crew grunted and she opened her eyes. In his arms was the biggest bouquet of wildflowers she had ever seen. “I did it,” she said quietly.
“Not only did you do it, you overdid it.” He put the flowers down on the table next to their food and picked one up to smell it. “Sweet, almost too sweet, like it’s not real.” He ran his fingers over the petals. “The texture is just right.”
He put the flowers down and turned back to her. “Can you do something alive? Like a bug?”
Dahlia made a face. “Ew.”
“Something innocuous, maybe a ladybug.”
“Yeah, but what if there are no ladybugs in this world and me bringing one in decimates some bug that’s keeping all the crops alive.”
Crew held out his thumb. “I’ll smash it after I get a look at it.”
Dahlia frowned. “I don’t want you to smash it.”
“Then do a spider, then you’ll be glad that I smashed it.”
She laughed and closed her eyes, but before she even tried, she knew she wouldn’t be able to muster up one emotion that would bring her a ladybug, and she didn’t want to figure out an emotion that would bring her a spider.
She opened her eyes. “Maybe something alive isn’t a good idea.”
“Are you pulling it in from somewhere? Or are you creating it?”
She shook her head. “Not sure. Creating it, I think.”
“You should practice. When we go home, it will make me feel much better if I know you have control over this power of yours, Dahlia.” She turned away before he could see what was in her eyes, but it didn’t matter. He had a window into her heart.
He didn’t speak for a few moments and when he did, his voice was soft. “You don’t want to go home.” It was a statement, not a question.
She shrugged. “You have people there. Friends. All I have is Angel.”
He got back down on the bed with her. “You have your sisters.”
“That’s true, but I’m nervous to meet them. I mean, I already know Heather but not very well. What is Ella like?”
Crew shook his head and ran his fingers through her hair, pushing it back over her shoulder and away from her face. “I honestly don’t know, I haven’t talked to her much.”
Dahlia let Crew cradle her close as she tried to imagine what going home would be like.
From outside their tiny window, a great commotion sounded.
Crew jumped up to look outside. “It’s a messenger. He’s meeting with someone in the courtyard. He looks excited. Oh, the king just stuck his head out another window.”
Heather sat up and she could hear the words.
“Libeka the Protector has laid another egg. She sits on it now.”
The king shouted back down to him. “Declare a celebration this very eve in the market!”
Crew turned back to her, eyebrows raised. “Is that all these people do, party?”
Dahlia stood up and looked around for her clothes. “I’d like to go,” she said, wondering if Crew could see her ulterior motive. If he did, he didn’t say a word.
“Anything you want, doll.”
***
Crew lifted her off the sweet female horse they’d been given to ride to the market on, then swung his leg over and slid down easily, looking as practiced as a cowboy. He learned quickly.
His sleeveless jerkin he’d borrowed rode up, and she was treated to a heavenly view of his ass in the tight leggings that he hated but all the other men wore. She’d only been able to get him to wear them instead of his jeans by promising not to wear the one-piece undergarment she couldn’t get off without stripping down under her dress.
As he’d helped her get dressed, she’d been able to see his fantasies of bending her over the bed and her skirts falling up and over her body written all over his face. She was totally into it. As soon as they got back.
He faced her and adjusted himself. “You’re lucky I love you. I wouldn’t wear this for anyone else.”
Dahlia’s chest felt light and her mouth grew dry. “You… love me?”
He frowned. “I haven’t said that before?”
She shook her head, her heart soaring.
“I do. I think I have since I first saw you at the rut. Maybe when I saw you outside it.”
Dahlia raised her hand to her throat. “You didn’t know me then. It was lust.”
He shook his head slowly. “It wasn’t. I could feel your spirit. It wouldn’t have mattered if you had a squeaky voice or talked too loud, or liked to pick your nose and wipe it on the furniture.”
Dahlia tried to make a face at that, but she couldn’t twist her smile into anything else.
He brushed her hair back from her face and gazed into her eyes. “You might have been a disgusting nose picker, but you would have been my disgusting nose picker.”
Dahlia laughed. “Crew!” She caught his hand and held it to her heart. “I love you, too.”
His eyes bored into her. “I know. I actually thought we’d already done this. Sorry.”
She gave a shaky laugh. “Okay, since you’re so smart, what do we do now?”
He pulled her towards the music, mostly drums and a light guitar-sounding instrument. “We dance.”
They entered the marketplace, surprised as usual by the overdone frivolity of everyone there. There were two areas with people dancing and Crew tried to pull her to one, but she tried to pull him to the other. “Let’s join the circle dance,” Dahlia urged.
Crew stared at it, his eyes intense, then shook his head. “Dahlia, I can’t.”
“Sure you can, silly. Just do what they do. It looks like a cross between the hokey pokey and square dancing.” She tried to start forward, but Crew caught her and held her arm.
“Dahlia, if any man in th
at group touches you, I’ll kill him.”
That stopped her. She looked around, alarmed. “But why?”
He gritted his teeth. “I haven’t claimed you yet. Until I do, I can’t control my impulses.”
She raised a hand to where her shoulder met her neck, the spot where he’d indicated he would bite her, and stared at him, then tried to smile. “Got it.”
She led him to the couples dancing and they tried to join in and follow the movements of everyone else.
Within only a few moments, Dahlia felt eyes on them. Crew growled deep in his throat and she stared at him, thinking this had been a very bad idea. Lord Theobald the Grim, as Crew had taken to calling him, emerged from the shadows, and she could see him in the light of the bonfire. He stared at them, his eyes shrewd, then he stepped forward and addressed her, bending low.
“If it please the lady, I would like to partake of a dance with her.” Dahlia shook her head. Was he stupid?
Crew stepped in front of her and bared his teeth at the man. “It doeth not pleaseth the lady-eth.”
Dahlia felt like giggling and holding her hands to her head at the same time. He was such a smartass. But one with absolutely no filter.
Lord Theobald nodded curtly, as if he had expected as much. “Then perhaps, you would show the crowd your swordplay? I have to imagine you are a master swordsman. The king has informed me of his intention to ask you both to fill seats on our newly formed parliament, and as such, I should like to get to know you better.”
Dahlia wondered if that was even true. She pulled on Crew’s arm. “We shouldn’t have come,” she whispered. “Let’s go back.”
Crew held up a hand to her, his eyes staring intently at Theobald. “I’ll show you something,” he said, his voice low.
Dahlia groaned, not quite able to understand how dancing had turned into something that had her belly churning in fear.
Lord Theobald led them through the crowd to an open area where two men were fighting with wooden swords in front of a small group of spectators. He motioned them past the two men to a thick wooden post as tall as Crew, buried securely in the ground. Its sides were chipped and marred from sword blows.
Dahlia could hear whispering as some of the crowd watching the two men dispersed and made their way to surround the new spectacle.
Lord Theobald raised his hand to a soldier, who carried over a sword three times as thick as the one he had on his belt, holding it close to his body like it was very heavy. He tried to hand it to Lord Theobald, but he shook his head and indicated Crew.
Crew grabbed it with one hand and sliced the air with it, his eyes locked on Theobald, his muscles showing no sign of strain. Dahlia rubbed the hollow at the base of her throat, her imagination taking off with what might happen next. Would someone come over and try to fight Crew? The only reason she wasn’t trying to pull him away was because she knew he would never go. But Crew knew nothing about handling a sword. Was Theobald trying to prove something?
He only stood there, arms crossed over his chest, waiting for Crew’s next move. Crew’s eyes narrowed, then he walked to the wooden post. He hefted the sword in his hand again, then grasped two hands around its hilt, almost like he would a baseball bat. He raised his arms high and sliced at the pole diagonally and down, grunting as metal met wood, chopping it completely in half.
Dahlia gasped, as did most of the women in the crowd. The top half of the post thudded as it hit the ground and fell over.
Crew jabbed the sword into the dirt, his eyes challenging Theobald, as he held out a hand to Dahlia. She ran to him, lifting her skirts so she wouldn’t trip over them.
As soon as they were out of Theobald’s hearing range, Dahlia whispered to Crew, “I’m sorry I wanted to come out here. Let’s go back.”
He shook his head. “No need to be sorry with me, doll. He’s showing his hand, and that’s always a good thing.”
Chapter 33
The ride back to the castle was quiet, only the noises of the night and the clip-clopping of the horses echoing off the trees in the forest. Crew didn’t say a word and Dahlia didn’t mind. She was lost in thought herself. Why did someone always have to be an ass? Of course she knew the answer to that, because that someone was unhappy.
Once inside the room, Crew’s mood stayed dark and she could see his mind working. He picked at the evening snacks they’d been brought, but mostly looked out the window, a frown on his face. Dahlia undressed, her own mind working out her own problems, trying to come to an understanding or maybe an agreement with itself.
When she got into bed, he finally joined her, taking her more roughly than she was used to, then draining a glass of ale before falling asleep. Her stomach was unsettled so she’d refused the wine that had been brought up for her, and he’d drunk that also.
It took Dahlia over an hour to finally fall asleep and when she finally did, she dreamed of falling over a waterfall, Crew nowhere in sight and unable to save her.
***
Crew tried to wrench his eyes open but they felt glued shut. Rough hands grabbed him around his elbows and shoulders and pulled him to his feet. His head hung, because his muscles would not react to his commands to hold it upright. Drugged. Someone had slipped him a tranquilizer somehow. He fought against it, knowing if he just had enough time he could force his body to metabolize whatever it was. Or to function anyway, he had plenty of experience with that.
A female cry reached his ears and he stiffened, trying to hear more. It was Dahlia. “Let him go!”
Using all the strength he had, Crew forced his eyelids open. The room was filled with soldiers, and two of them near the door had King Caius in a prisoner’s grip. Dahlia was also being held, but by only one male, who had a knife to her throat. He would die for that.
Across from him, Lord Theobald held up the pendant and it swung in the light from the fire, sparkling prettily.
Lord Theobald strode to the king and thrust the pendant in his face. “Tell me its power. How can I make it strip the shapeshifter of his ability? How can I lock him into one form?”
Dahlia screamed and struggled against the soldier who held her tight. Lord Theobald addressed him. “Be careful with her. If the shapeshifter wakes up, we’ll need her to control him.”
He turned back to the king. “Answer me!”
The king shook his head and pressed his lips together. Lord Theobald nodded to one of the soldiers who stepped forward and rammed the king in the chest with the hilt of a knife. The king fell to the ground, his hands on his chest, coughing and trying to breathe.
Crew felt his mind clearing slightly and his muscles attempting to return to his control, but not fast enough. Wind ruffled his hair and he looked up, trying to force his eyes to settle on Dahlia. Her face was set with fury.
“It’s working,” Lord Theobald called, his eyes locked on the pendant. It was glowing. He strode towards Crew, but his steps faltered as more wind whipped through the room. He looked around the room, then out into the windless night, a confused frown on his face.
Crew looked back to Dahlia once more, gratified when her eyes seemed to glow with the pendant. He raised his head and tried to speak to the two soldiers who were pinning his arms. His voice came out weak, but they could hear him. “Let me go, before my mate gets any angrier. Maybe she’ll spare your lives.”
Lord Theobald looked at him and Crew grinned at the confusion on his face. Some things were just too perfect.
The soldier holding Dahlia screamed and Crew saw that the knife he’d been holding had turned into a deadly looking emerald-green snake and sunk its fangs into his arm. The soldier let go of Dahlia and batted at the snake. Dahlia turned, her eyes narrowing as she faced Theobald. “That’s mine,” she said, her eyes on the pendant, her hand out.
He clutched it closer to him and yelled at two more soldiers. “Don’t just stand there. Get her!”
They started forward, but Dahlia was too quick for them. The emerald-green snake grew to the size of an anaconda
and wrapped around their feet, tripping them, then coiling around them.
Theobald stared at his soldiers and the snake, then muttered something. Crew wasn’t sure if it was ‘witch’ or ‘bitch’, but he didn’t think Dahlia would mind either. He grinned, relaxing in the holds of the soldiers who had him, starting to enjoy himself, especially as more of the drug suppressing his mind and body wore off.
“You know,” he started conversationally to the soldiers who had hold of him. They were staring at the snake squeezing their compatriots to death with wide eyes, then both let go of him and stepped away, trying to pretend they’d never been in on any of this. He addressed them anyway. “You made a mistake thinking I was the dangerous one. That delicate flower over there is about to bend you both over this bed and shove snakes up your─”
“Crew!” Dahlia snapped. “The pendant.”
“Oh, right.” He took two steps towards Lord Theobald and snatched the pendant out of his hand, then stepped over snake and soldiers to stand next to his female as all the soldiers who were able ran from the room.
“Can you help the king?” she asked.
“What about Old Fat-and-Bald?”
“I don’t think he’s a problem anymore.” Crew looked up just in time to see Theobald drop to the floor in a dead faint and Dahlia’s snake head over to cuddle him.
Crew helped the king to his feet as the man coughed alarmingly.
When he got himself under control, King Caius surveyed the three men on the floor, rubbing his chest, then cursed in Theobald’s direction. “He’s been planning this for months. I can’t believe I trusted him.”
Crew grunted. “Me neither. Maybe let the people vote next time.”
Caius shook his head. “The problem is, I don’t know who I can trust. Those soldiers he brought with him were among my inner circle.”
Crew stared at the king for a few moments, then said. “I can find out who you can trust. Gather everyone. The entire castle staff, anyone you want to put on the parliament, and all of your soldiers. I can tell you at a glance.”
