by Jayne Castel
“Mira!” Ninia gasped behind him.
Asher ignored the princess too; he could focus on nothing except the dark-haired woman who approached him.
A heartbeat later she was in his arms, her own entwined about his neck as she kissed him. The shock of her body against his jolted Asher out of his reverie. Hungrily, he kissed her back, not caring that they were drawing attention to themselves.
When they broke apart, they were both breathless.
Around them some of the men were smirking, while one or two whistled and catcalled.
Asher paid none of them any mind. Joy made him throw caution aside. He reached down and brushed a lock of silky black hair from Mira’s face. “I was going to search for you,” he murmured. “Once I’d finished here.”
Her full mouth curved in a way that made Asher ache to kiss her again. “Aye, maybe you would have … but I got tired of waiting.”
“This city is full of taverns and inns. How did you know where I was staying?”
“I didn’t … this is the sixth I’ve been in this afternoon. I wasn’t sure I’d find you.”
They stared at each other, the moment drawing out, until a cough from behind Asher interrupted them.
He turned to find Ninia standing there, arms folded, an irritated look upon her face. Ryana stood next to her, smiling. “See what I had to put up with during the journey,” Ninia muttered. “They ignored me most of the time.”
Asher laughed. “That isn’t true.”
“Aye,” Mira chimed in. “A wench as demanding as you is impossible to ignore.”
Ryana laughed and stepped forward, offering her hand to Mira. “Good eve, I’m Ryana.”
The two women shook hands, and Asher saw immediately that they would be friends. Both strong, willful, and independent, they had more in common than they probably realized.
Asher cast a wary glance around the common room then. Now that the show was over, the men had turned back to their tankards and conversations. However, they’d created quite a spectacle; it was time to blend in with the shadows again.
“That table in the corner’s still free,” he said to Mira. “Join Ryana and Ninia there, and I’ll get the first round of ales.”
A short while later Asher sat down next to Mira, put a protective arm around her shoulders, and drew her close. She smiled up at him, her eyes shining. His throat constricted. “I thought I’d lost you,” he admitted thickly.
Unspeaking, she reached up and grazed her knuckles along his jawline, her smile fading. “Asher … I’m not just here for you,” she replied.
Asher drew back. Her admission was an icy bucket of water over him. What did she mean by that?
Mira’s gaze shifted to where the inn-keeper—a young man with a shiny, red face—placed tankards full of foamy ale on the table.
When he’d departed, Ryana picked up a tankard and raised it in a toast. “Here’s to old friends and new.” She frowned then, as she saw the frozen look on Asher’s face and the serious expression on Mira’s. “What is it?”
Mira inhaled deeply, her attention shifting to Ninia. “I’ve just traveled from Errad—around half a day ahead of Irana.”
Asher stiffened. “She’ll be here tomorrow afternoon then?”
“Aye, if you don’t intercept her first.”
Ryana’s gaze narrowed. “Why would we do that?”
Mira’s gaze was steady as it met Ryana’s. “Why was she in Errad?”
“She told us she was meeting Asher there,” Ryana replied. “A lie obviously.”
“Aye … it was a lie. I saw her at the overlord’s tower. She bought two sacks of Stynix from him.”
A heavy silence fell.
Asher went still, while Ryana’s expression froze.
Ninia looked confused for a moment or two, before realization dawned. “Stynix,” the girl breathed. “But it’s outlawed?”
“Aye,” Asher replied, sharing a look with Ryana. “For good reason. An enchanter using Stynix becomes almost invincible for a short time. The risk of it falling into the wrong hands was considered too great.”
“Shadows … what does she want with that?” Ryana asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
“A weapon in the war against Anthor … maybe,” he replied.
“The king would never agree to that.”
“You’re right, Nathan appears honest … but he might be desperate.” Asher leaned back in his chair, a chill slithering down his spine. “Have you seen what they’ve done on our border, Ryana? They’ve rebuilt the leagueforts … taller and more heavily fortified than they ever were in the past. Maybe Nathan wants something to put the odds in our favor.”
A nerve flickered on Ryana’s cheek. “Or maybe the king has nothing to do with it. Her motives could be more selfish … more sinister.”
“Whatever the reason for acquiring Stynix, she must be stopped,” Asher replied. “Serran has enough problems without adding that to the mix.”
“So what are you going to do?” Mira interrupted them.
Ryana met her eye. “I like your idea of meeting her on the road—in daylight, when the sun’s at its highest, her enchantment will be at its weakest.”
Asher raised an eyebrow. “And so will yours.”
Ryana responded with a tight smile. “That’s why I’ll hang back and let you do all the talking.” Her attention shifted to Ninia then. “Looks like you might be the least of Irana’s concerns right now.”
Asher followed Mira into his room, closing the door behind them. Ryana had returned to the House of Light and Darkness, while Ninia had retired to her own room.
Finally, they were alone.
I’m not just here for you. Those words had needled him all evening
“So, I wasn’t reason enough to travel here?” He’d wanted to ask the question casually, but he heard the edge to his voice.
Shadows, I sound desperate.
She turned, her mouth quirking. “I knew that would bother you,” she replied. “Men and their egos.”
He stiffened. “So you came here just to deliver the news about Irana? For no other reason?”
She watched him, her smile fading. “What do you want me to say … that I missed you?”
Asher felt his anger rise. He was tired of this. First she dismissed him, and now she was mocking him; he’d had enough. “I don’t expect you to say anything you don’t feel,” he ground out. “Don’t spare my male ego … please.”
Mira stepped back from him and shrugged off her cloak, tossing it onto the bed. The movement, unconsciously sensual, made his pulse quicken. Damn the woman—he wished he didn’t want her so much.
“I kissed you, didn’t I?” she said coolly. “Surely that tells you I missed you.”
Asher moved away from the door, advancing on her. “Does it?”
She tilted her chin to meet his eye as he moved closer still. “I’m not good at this, Asher,” she said quietly. “Don’t expect me to simper and look up at you with doe-eyes.”
“I don’t want that.” He stared down at her, his gaze hungrily tracing the lines of her face. “I just want the truth.”
“It works both ways,” she murmured. “I’ve come to you … how do I know you weren’t pleased to see the back of me? You didn’t try very hard to stop me from leaving.”
Asher huffed a bitter laugh. “Aye, and I’ve regretted it ever since.” He reached out and cupped her cheek, running the pad of his thumb over her bottom lip. He saw the pupils of her eyes dilate at that, and his pulse started to race, his heart thudding hard against his ribs. “All I can think about is you,” he said softly. “Food tastes stale. Ale tastes like vinegar. The sky looks grey even when the sun is shining. I hardly sleep, but when I do, I dream of you.” He broke off here, struggling to contain the words that now poured from him. “You consume me, Mira … you’ve stolen my soul. Is that good enough. Do you believe me now?”
She stared up at him, naked want on her face. Her lips parted, and she drew in a rag
ged breath. “Yes.”
He kissed her then, his mouth devouring hers. Mira melted against him. Her arms linked around his neck, her tongue exploring his mouth. Asher groaned; she tasted so good. He could never get enough of her.
He pressed his hips against hers and heard her breathing catch. Her hands slid down his chest, her fingers fumbling with the ties on his leather vest. Then she reached down and traced the hard length of his shaft, straining against his breeches.
Asher gave a soft growl and stepped back from her. Then he started to undress. Likewise, Mira shrugged off her clothes, never taking her gaze from him.
His gaze slid down her nude body, taking in her long muscular limbs and soft curves. It hurt not to touch her.
He pulled Mira hard against him, his mouth claiming hers once more.
Two strides took them hard up against the wall. Asher wanted to take hours exploring her body, making her gasp and sigh, but right now he had to be inside her. He couldn’t wait.
Parting her thighs, he cupped his hands under her buttocks and lifted her up to meet him. Then he thrust deep, holding nothing back.
Mira cried out, the sound muffled against his neck, before she wrapped her legs around his hips and angled her hips up to meet him. Asher closed his eyes, losing himself in her heat. He felt her tremble against him, her fingers digging into his flesh, yet he didn’t stop.
Like when they’d spent the night together in Aldeport, he gave everything he had to her. The sound of Mira’s panting with wordless need, unraveled what remained of his self-control. The world faded. He forgot about everything else but her.
All that mattered was this.
They shattered together, Asher burying his face in her neck as he climaxed. He shuddered against her, his breathing ragged.
“Mira,” he rasped in her ear. “My life, my love … you’re mine.”
She let out a soft moan before sighing in wordless agreement.
39
A Meeting Upon the Road
FOUR RIDERS LEFT the capital shortly after dawn.
Mira rode upon her faithful Whinny, and Ninia sat upon a prancing grey mare, while Ryana and Asher led the way on two stocky bay geldings. The morning was cool, the sky slightly overcast. The high wooded sides of the Rith Vale cast the road in shadow.
Inhaling the resinous scent of pine and the clear mountain air, Mira stifled a yawn. She’d slept little the night before. She was tired, yet a relaxed, loose-limbed sense of well-being filled her. Her lips curved as her gaze traveled to where Asher rode ahead of her, Grim perched upon his shoulder. Mira took in the breadth of Asher’s shoulders, the way his white-blond hair spilled down his back. She’d tangled her fingers in his hair last night, as he’d suckled her breasts.
Heat flushed through Mira at the memory. Stop it … you need to concentrate today.
They made their way down the valley, alongside the swiftly flowing waters of the Rith. On the lower fields, cottars were starting work for the day, carrying hoes and rakes over their shoulders. There were a handful of other travelers on the road: farmers carrying cartloads of fresh vegetables to market and merchants who were making an early start on the long road to Idriss.
Rithmar’s capital was incredibly isolated, especially compared to Veldoras. Mira supposed its position, nestled in the midst of these highlands, had both been a blessing and a curse over the years. It made it easier to defend in times of war, yet an enemy could easily cut it off from the rest of the world. Asher had told her that during those dark months the year before, when the shadow creatures roamed freely, all travel had stopped between the capital and the coast. Once you left the Western Cradle behind, there were no villages to take refuge in until the capital.
“I’m glad you found us, Mira … I’m glad you’re here.”
Mira glanced up to find Ninia watching her. The princess had tied her hair back into a tight braid this morning, although already unruly, brown curls had started to escape. The hair-style made her look older, more serious.
Mira smiled. “So am I.”
Ninia gave her a veiled look, before she cast a furtive glance in Asher’s direction. “He was poor company after you left. He regretted letting you go … although my nagging didn’t help his mood.”
“I had to go,” Mira replied quietly, “and it’s just as well I did.”
“But would you have come back otherwise … if you hadn’t seen the High Enchanter?”
Mira paused, considering the question. She remembered how she’d felt in Errad. She could have stayed on and made a life for herself in that city—yet she’d saddled up Whinny and ridden south without a backward glance.
“Aye,” she replied honestly. “It might have taken me a while—but in the end I think I would have.”
They met the party of enchanters just before noon, upon a stretch of road that led through a ravine. Rocky sides, studded with wilding pines, reared up either side of the highway. Overhead the sky was a bleak stretch of grey. Gusts of damp wind tore down the ravine, catching at their cloaks and pushing their hoods back from their faces.
Asher spotted the travelers in the distance first, his gaze sweeping over the cluster of figures on horseback and a wagon that trundled toward them. He tensed. This wasn’t the spot he would have chosen to meet Irana, for the sides of the ravine shaded the road in parts. Nor was the weather what he’d hoped for—bright sunlight was ideal.
Yet here she was, riding toward him upon a grey stallion—the horse that had once belonged to her predecessor, Thrindul. Asher recognized the young man riding next to her; Tyrell was an enchanter of the Light who had only just finished his apprenticeship. Asher’s gaze swept over the others following. They were all young, untested, and eager to prove their worth to the Order.
Irana chose her companions for this trip carefully.
Asher and Ryana reined in their horses and halted, waiting for the approaching party to do the same. Around half a dozen yards distant, they stopped.
Irana’s jade gaze narrowed. Her wild mane of auburn hair blew around her, making her look younger than he remembered. Her attention focused then on the hawk that hunched upon his shoulder, before she met Asher’s eye.
“Asher,” she greeted him coolly, “this is an unexpected meeting.”
“Good day, High Enchanter,” he replied with equal coldness. “It’s not a chance encounter … we knew you were returning to the capital.”
Irana’s gaze flicked to Ryana, who sat silently upon her bay gelding to Asher’s right. The High Enchanter’s expression did not change. “We’ve just come from Errad … I went looking for you.”
“No you didn’t.”
Silence fell between them then, broken only by the shrill whistle of the wind.
Irana watched him, her aristocratic face giving nothing away. She clearly didn’t intend to respond to him, so it was Asher who broke the silence. “I hear you’ve brought Stynix back with you … any reason for that?”
Her expression tightened. “Where did you hear this?”
Asher smiled. “A little bird.”
Her face turned stony. “You don’t have the right to question me.”
“And you shouldn’t hide things from members of your High Council.”
A shadow moved in those sharp, green eyes. “The king sanctioned it; he wants a weapon to use against Anthor when they move against us.”
“I thought you believed Reoul wouldn’t dare attack Rithmar?”
Her mouth pursed. “I changed my mind.”
“If that’s the case, why didn’t Nathan provide you with an armed escort,” Ryana spoke up. “Stynix is too valuable … and dangerous.”
Irana favored Ryana with an irritated look. “He wants this kept secret.”
Asher watched Irana closely. He doubted her words. King Nathan didn’t have a great relationship with the Order, and before the Battle of the Shadefells he’d distrusted enchantment. But the king had fought side-by-side with enchanters last year and had developed a respect for them
. Asher strongly suspected Irana was lying.
“How easily lies slide off your tongue,” Ryana said after a lengthy pause. “But we’ll discover the truth soon enough … when we talk to the king.”
Irana laughed, although her eyes were hard. “You do that.” The High Enchanter dismissed Ryana then, her attention shifting past the two enchanters facing her on horseback, to the two riders behind them. “Who have you brought with you?”
Asher smiled thinly. He’d been awaiting this moment. “Visitors from Thûn, High Enchanter.” He and Ryana urged their horses forward, leaving a space so Irana had a clear view of the two women behind them. “Irana, meet Princess Ninia and her guardian, Mira.”
Irana’s face froze, and behind her the young enchanters exchanged confused looks. They had no idea what was happening, but they’d find out soon enough.
Ninia sat tall in the saddle, her hood pushed back. Her hazel eyes were steady as she watched the High Enchanter. Beside her, Mira was dark and still, her right hand resting upon the hilt of her sword, her left loosely holding the reins, ready to reach for the blade strapped to her thigh if necessary.
A long silence ensued, before Irana inclined her head toward Asher. He met her eye and wondered if she would lie. She was cornered, and she knew it.
“It seems I over-estimated you,” she said finally. “I thought you were loyal to this order.”
“I am … I’m just not a cold-blooded killer.”
She cast him a disdainful look. “You didn’t have a problem taking lives in the north.”
“The battlefield’s different.”
“No, it’s not. It’s duty—just of a different kind.”
A strange hush settled over the road, and the air changed. Asher breathed in the rich, clean smell of an approaching thunderstorm.
Enchantment.
He could feel Irana preparing to gather the Dark. Long shadows stretched across the road. He watched them expand toward him. He flexed his right hand at his side, beckoning to the pale sky. The Light answered his call, and the sky overhead brightened for a moment. It was a warning.
