by Jayne Castel
With a sigh, Ninia lowered herself onto a flat rock at the edge of the stream. She then angled her face up to where the watery sun was doing its best to warm the chilled earth. “I’m exhausted.”
Looking into her face, Mira could see she wasn’t lying. There were smudges under her eyes, and her face was unnaturally pale. Although Asher had healed Ninia of her fever the night before, she was still feeling the effects of it. She had struggled to keep up with Mira’s cracking pace.
A pang of empathy rose within Mira, but she shoved it aside. She’s young and strong—she’ll recover soon enough.
Mira reluctantly glanced over at where Asher had taken a seat opposite Ninia. She’d done her best to avoid looking in his direction today. She now braced herself for the impact of meeting his gaze.
A screech echoed overhead. They looked up to see Grim circling, overseeing their journey west.
“Asher.” Ninia spoke up then. “When are you going to start training me?”
Asher dropped his gaze from where he’d been watching the hawk. “We should wait till we get to The Royal City.”
“Why?”
“Training requires concentration, solitude, and time. You don’t have any of those out here.”
Ninia drew herself up and scowled at him. “But I can’t control the Light. You’ve seen what happens when I try to wield it.”
“All the more reason for you to start training once we get to safety.”
“But what happens if we get into danger again? I’m afraid to use it.”
Asher held her gaze, his expression cool. “Then it’s best you don’t.”
Mira huffed, causing them both to glance over at her. “What answer is that? You should train her, Asher … even if you just teach Ninia tricks to stop her from setting fire to herself.”
Asher’s mouth quirked, and for the first time since setting out across the wolds their gazes met. “Good point.”
Mira shrugged. She wasn’t sure why she’d spoken up, only that since she’d be leaving soon Ninia needed to able to defend herself.
Asher shifted his attention back to the princess. “Alright. We’ll start tonight.”
Ninia flashed him a grin in return and was about to speak when a shadow fell over them. Mira glanced up to see Grim swooping down. Asher thrust out an arm. An instant later the hawk landed upon it, digging his talons into the leather bracer he wore upon his forearm.
Ninia watched the hawk, wide-eyed. “Has he ever done that before?”
Asher shook his head.
Mira studied the bird. Snowy-white, with black undersides to his wings and a jet-black beak and eyes, Grim had a cruel beauty. It was impossible not to think of the hawk as a predator.
“Why did it choose you?” Mira asked, voicing her thoughts without meaning to.
Asher shrugged. “I’ve no idea.”
“I’ve read enchanter lore,” Ninia said. “Only the best enchanters draw familiars to them.”
Asher raised an eyebrow. “Well, we’ll have to find you a familiar then.”
Ninia flushed under his teasing, although her hazel eyes were sharp when she replied. “Aye—we will.”
Dusk settled over The West Wolds, bringing another chill day to an end. They made camp in a copse of sycamore and pine. The resin scent of the trees lay heavily on the air and, a bed of rotting leaves and pine needles was soft underfoot.
It was a damp cold evening, the kind that drilled into your bones. Asher glanced around the clearing in which they stood, with Grim still perched on his outstretched arm. He felt so weary, he could have lain down where he stood and let sleep claim him.
“No fire tonight,” he told his companions. “It’s too risky.”
“How am I going to cook this then?” Mira held up the fat grouse she’d brought down with a swiftly-thrown knife at dusk.
Asher frowned. “They will have found our tracks by now. Smoke will draw them to us.”
Mira cast him a dark look. “I’ll take my chances.” With that she knelt down and prepared to light the pile of twigs she’d gathered.
Asher watched her, quelling his irritation. However, he was too tired to argue.
“Shadows, I’m freezing.” Ninia lowered herself onto a mossy log and drew her mantle close. “I’m weary of this winter. Will it ever end?”
“I saw snowdrops under the trees in the last valley we crossed,” Mira replied. “Spring isn’t far away.”
Asher watched Mira start the fire. He imagined what she’d look like with spring flowers wreathed through her dark hair. She’d ignored him all day, and he didn’t like it much. He wondered what he’d said or done to offend her.
Feeling his gaze upon her, Mira glanced up. Then, catching his look, she scowled. “What?”
Asher held her gaze, before smiling. “Do you have a favorite flower, Mira?”
She snorted. “What kind of fool question is that?”
Asher laughed. “I’m curious, that’s all.”
“I love daisies,” Ninia spoke up. “They remind me of summer.”
“And you, Mira?” Asher pressed. He wasn’t sure why he’d asked Mira the question, but now he had, he wanted to know the answer. She’d been so grim-faced and surly today; he wished to know something of the woman beneath.
They watched each other, and Asher saw a shadow darken those grey-blue eyes. She was complicated, at war with herself. He sensed she thought things like flowers were for other women.
“Roses,” she muttered eventually. “Red ones.”
“Red … the color of passion,” he murmured.
He saw a flush creep up her neck, like this morning. That was twice in one day he’d embarrassed her. Something had grown between them, an awareness neither could now deny. Yet she fought it.
Mira watched him, a muscle flickering in her jaw. “The color of blood,” she replied.
Mira gazed up at the star-strewn night sky, visible through the gaps in the trees. It was a dark night, for there was a new moon. The realization didn’t please her. She hadn’t taken that into consideration when making her plans.
It was too late now though—even if she had to travel in complete darkness tonight, she was leaving. It would just make it harder for Asher and Ninia to follow her.
Mira had gone over it all countless times in her head during the long day of walking. She’d travel south, cutting across country, before heading east to the town of Witchmere. She and Ninia had spent some time there on their journey; the town was big enough for her to hide till she figured out what to do with her newfound freedom.
They’d eaten a frugal supper of roast grouse. Afterward, as promised, Asher began his training with Ninia. Mira didn’t pay attention to much of it—for it made no sense to her anyway—but Ninia appeared grateful. Asher took the girl through a series of drills, none of which involved the princess gathering the Light. Mira was grateful. She’d seen what happened at the leaguefort. The memory of the inferno they’d barely escaped made Mira break out into a cold sweat.
That can’t be normal.
She watched Ninia listening to Asher. The girl’s face was earnest, serious. It was hard to believe she possessed such raw power. Mira hadn’t discussed the incident with Asher, although she’d seen his reaction to Ninia’s ability. He’d been as shocked as Mira.
The training went on for a while before Asher and Ninia finally retired for the night. The fire had burned down low and was on the verge of going out. However, it still cast a warm glow over the glade. Beyond, Mira could make out the darker bulk of the surrounding trees against the starlit woods beyond.
Mira rose to her feet. “I’ll take the first watch,” she announced. “Try and get some sleep.”
“In this cold?” Ninia huffed. “I’ll be lucky. I can’t feel my feet.”
Mira tensed. She hoped that despite the princess’s complaints she would sleep. Mira needed both of them to be slumbering before she slipped away. She couldn’t risk them following her.
“Thanks, Mira.”
Asher’s voice was flat, indicating his weariness. Healing them both the night before had drained him, and she wondered if he’d slept at all afterward. “Wake me when it’s my turn.”
Mira moved away from her companions and took a seat on the edge of the clearing. The lonely cry of an owl in the distance reminded her that Grim perched on a sycamore branch on the other side of the dell, just a few feet from where Asher stretched out, wrapped in his cloak.
Unlike owls, the hawk didn’t appear to hunt at night. Grim roosted, gleaming palely in the starlight filtering through the trees.
The hawk worried Mira. She didn’t want it alerting Asher to her escape.
Time stretched out in the clearing. It was a still night, something that also put Mira on edge. A wind whispering through the trees would have masked any noise she might accidently make. At least this way she could hear anyone creep up on her.
She waited, listening to the breathing of her companions, who tried to get comfortable on the damp ground. Despite her earlier protestations, Ninia did fall asleep. Mira heard the girl’s breathing change, before she began to snore gently. A short while later, Asher’s breathing deepened.
They were both asleep now.
Yet she waited a little longer, just to be certain. She would only get one chance.
You’re abandoning her. The voice came from nowhere, a whisper in the dark. You swore an oath. You made a promise to her mother.
Mira’s mouth twisted. So her conscience had a voice. She’d made Queen Rena a promise, but she’d had no choice at the time.
She had one now, and she’d made it.
Eventually, sure both Asher and Ninia now slept deeply, the copse silent around them, Mira stood up. She’d always been quick on her feet as a mudlark; it was the only way she’d survived in a city full of dangers. Her Swallow training had also taught her how to move noiselessly. The life of one of the members of the royal family might have depended on her ability to sneak up behind an assassin.
She moved quietly now, padding across the damp ground and out of the clearing. Mira took care to keep her breathing slow and steady, her senses straining.
Just a few more yards, and she’d be out of earshot. Then she would lengthen her stride.
Mira walked on, the darkness enclosing her in a shroud that turned her blind on this moonless night. She reached out a hand before her, feeling her way so that she didn’t collide with the trees.
The glade where Asher and Ninia slept now lay behind her. Mira smiled into the night and quickened her pace.
Almost there.
She’d only traveled a yard or two farther when a man’s voice split the silence behind her.
“Where are you going?”
Mira whipped around, reaching for her sword. Her fingers tightened around the hilt, as her gaze alighted upon a tall, broad shouldered figure following her. Even in the darkness she could see the long pale hair spilling over his shoulders.
Curse him. Asher had followed her.
Mira said nothing, her gaze tracking his approach. Asher stopped a few feet away. His eyes glinted as his gaze raked over her.
“Turn around and go back to the glade,” she said finally. “Now.”
“Or what will you do? Draw that blade and cut me down?”
Mira’s mouth twisted. “There’s no moonlight for you to draw on tonight, enchanter. Could you stop me?”
“Don’t underestimate the starlight,” he replied, infuriatingly calm. “I’m not without weapons—I just don’t want to fight you.”
“Then go back to the glade.”
“No.”
Silence stretched out between them.
Mira took a step back. “I’m not coming with you. Take the girl west on your own.”
“I thought you swore to protect her.” Again, his voice was cool, giving nothing away.
Mira clenched her jaw so hard it ached. “What do you care what oaths I’ve sworn? I don’t need you as my conscience.”
“No, but you’ve got one …”
Mira felt like spitting at him.
“You think you know me, but you don’t,” she hissed.
He took a step toward her, following her backward. “I know you’re afraid.” His voice had softened. “I know this hard shell is a disguise. You could have left Ninia months ago, but you’ve waited till now to go. Why?”
Mira didn’t answer. She’d sat awake at night pondering the same question—and hadn’t liked any answer she came up with. Weak. Indecisive. Craven.
She took another step back and found a tree blocking her path, its trunk a solid wall against her back.
Asher followed her. He placed his hands either side of Mira, against the trunk, trapping her there.
“You didn’t go because of your sense of duty, your honor.”
Mira choked. “You’re wrong … I lack both.”
“I’m not wrong,” he countered. “You’ve a brave, good heart, Mira.”
She struck out at him. She didn’t want to hear another word of this drivel, these lies. The speed with which he deflected the knee she aimed at his groin surprised her; she’d thought him weakened without his enchantment. Lightning fast, he grabbed her wrists and slammed his body against hers, pinning her against the tree.
And then, before she could twist out of his grip, he brought his mouth down on hers.
23
A Kiss in the Dark
THE KISS WAS savage.
It took Mira by surprise. One moment she’d been fighting him, the next Asher’s mouth slanted over hers, his tongue parting her lips.
The effect on Mira was explosive. Her rage vanished, swallowed by a tide of need that slammed into her and swept her away in its power. A gasp choked her throat, and her lips parted, her body going weak as his mouth ravaged hers.
She’d never been kissed like this. Her encounters with men in The Swallow Keep had been brief, illicit. But this man’s mouth awoke every nerve ending in her body. She felt as if she was drowning, and that she’d die happily—just as long as he kept kissing her.
A soft moan rose within Mira, unbidden. She forgot the reason she was out here in the dark, or her need for freedom. Instead, she kissed Asher back, her own tongue dancing with his, exploring his mouth. She heard him growl, a soft rumble in the back of his throat, before he released her wrists and pulled her roughly into his arms.
Mira didn’t think of fighting him, or hurting him. Instead, she writhed against the hard wall of his body, almost as if she wanted to crawl inside his skin. The layers of clothing between them frustrated her; she needed to feel the warmth of his naked skin, to taste it. Her fingers tangled in his hair. The strands were fine and soft, at odds with the hardness of his body and the strength of the arms that encircled her.
There was a wildness to their embrace that excited her beyond measure. The heat with which he kissed her swept away all her misconceptions about him. She couldn’t believe she’d ever thought him cold; Asher was pure, consuming white fire.
His mouth still locked upon hers, Asher reached down and hooked his hand under her right thigh, pulling her up against him. Mira wrapped her leg around his hips and pushed up. Feeling the hard rod of his arousal pressed against her lower belly, she let out a low, animal groan.
She had to have him. Right here, right now.
Panting, she tore her mouth from his and began pulling at the ties of his breeches.
“Mira … Asher!” A voice drifted through the trees. “Where are you?”
They froze.
“Shadows,” Asher whispered, his voice low and raw. “Not now.”
He let Mira go and stepped back from her. The cold night air rushed between them, breaking the spell.
Weak and breathless, her body aching for him, Mira leaned against the tree trunk. She wanted to scream at Ninia to go away, but the girl’s voice had snapped her back to the present.
A small, cloaked figure approached, her face a pale disc in the starlight. “There you are … what are you both doing
out here?”
“Mira thought she heard something,” Asher replied. His voice was cool, only the slight rasp to it indicated that he was struggling to regain his composure. “We were just checking.”
“But you left me alone in the clearing.”
“Grim was watching over you.”
Ninia drew nearer still, and Mira felt her gaze sweep over them both. Ninia was naïve in many ways, but she was sharp enough to discern what had happened here, Mira was sure of it.
“Your hawk can’t protect me from soldiers,” the princess pointed out.
“You’re right,” Asher replied smoothly. “It’s a false alarm anyway … Mira must have heard a badger.”
“Aye,” Mira chimed in, grateful she was able to keep her voice steady. “That must have been it.”
“Come,” Asher said. “Let’s return to the glade.”
They walked back to where Grim roosted, his head tucked under one snowy wing. Asher and Ninia’s packs still lay where they’d been sleeping.
Only Asher hadn’t been sleeping—he’d lain awake waiting for Mira to make her move.
Mira raked a hand through her hair and dumped her pack on the ground, sitting down heavily upon it.
That was a success.
“I’ll take the watch from here, Mira.” Asher was no more than a dark silhouette on the other side of the clearing. “Try and get some rest.”
She was glad she couldn’t see his face, and that he couldn’t see hers. Her body still pulsed with need, the dull ache between her thighs a reminder of what Ninia had interrupted.
Mira didn’t reply; there wasn’t anything she could say anyway. Instead, she wrapped her cloak around her and lay back on the damp ground. She stared up at the canopy of branches above her and at the gaps where the night sky peeked through.
Tears of frustration stung her eyes.
