by AK Mulford
The human had already dealt out the next hand, but Remy had barely noticed. She swam in thick desire for the Eastern Prince. She shifted herself further against Hale, moving against his hard length. He groaned, his hand splaying further across her abdomen to hold her still. Remy couldn’t help but smile as she bent her head back and trailed kisses along the prince’s collarbone. This is what she had lain awake at night longing for. She had wanted it for longer than she would admit, and this ruse permitted her to do whatever she pleased. She let her arms casually rove his body, feeling the hard muscles of his arms, shoulders, chest in slow sweeps.
The rest of the fae darted uncomfortable glances at them as they touched each other, distracted by their wanton affections. Good. They each passed in cards to the dealer, getting new cards to finish their hand. Remy watched over hooded eyes as Delta and Bern smiled at their new cards. An easy giveaway. The only one too distracted to change cards was Hale as he continued his ministrations against Remy’s ear. She was breathing so heavily now it was indecent. The prince’s hand roamed dangerously close to the underside of her breast again as his other hand squeezed her hip once, twice: the signal. It was time.
Remy refused to overthink it as she turned to Hale. Eyes flaming with desire, she leaned up to his ear and whispered in a voice loud enough for all fae to hear, “I need you inside me now.”
Her words snapped the leash on Hale’s restraint. He lifted Remy by her backside and splayed her across the table. Coins and papers went flying. He pounced on top of her. His mouth collided with her own as he consumed her in a scalding kiss.
She moaned louder as their hands moved in a frenzy across each other’s bodies. Remy scrambled for the prince’s belt buckle before a razor-sharp voice shouted, “ENOUGH!”
Renwick yanked Hale by the neck of his tunic with enough force that his feet left the ground. The sizable evidence of Hale’s desire strained at the seam of his trousers as he gave the room a boyish, cocky grin. Remy giggled drunkenly as she adjusted her neckline.
“Seriously, Hale? I expected this sort of shit when we were boys, but I thought you had grown up at least an infinitesimal amount,” the Witchslayer hissed at him. “Now get out of here.”
Everyone stared at the two of them except for Neelo. They kept their eyes fixed on the words of their book, but an amused smirk pulled up one side of their lips.
“Keep the coins.” Hale laughed. “Just pittance anyway, right?” he said as if the mountain of gold coins he had lost was nothing.
Remy sauntered over to him, still laughing uncontrollably as if she had finally lost her senses to the drinks. Hale slung his arm over her shoulder and they stumbled to the door.
“Have fun you two.” Bern called out to them from the table.
“Shut up, Bern,” Renwick growled, returning to the table that the dealer was frantically tidying.
Chapter Thirteen
They did not speak a word to each other as they left the parlor, their three guards in tow. It wasn’t until the five of them piled into a carriage that Hale nodded to Bri and she nodded back. It was the only indication he would give.
He had the ring.
A fake from the jewelers Talhan had visited the day before now lay on the card table. The power of the Shil-de ring thundered around them now that they were out of that warded room. Remy clutched her black cloak tighter as the aftermath of their escapade played over in her mind. She couldn’t believe what she did, what she said.
No one spoke for the rest of the ride.
They pretended to drunkenly stumble through the bottom floor of the inn, giving drunken kisses on the cheek to the matron who herself seemed halfway lost in drink. It wasn’t until they hit the stairs that Hale said quietly, “Prepare to leave. Twenty minutes.”
The fae warriors nodded and entered their room as Remy and Hale headed to their corner suite. When they closed the door of their room behind them, Hale looked at Remy for a moment before dropping that arrogant mask and smiling at her.
“You were magnificent.” He grinned, producing the ring from his pocket. “Remind me never to double-cross you.”
“You better heed your own warning,” Remy said, her eyes twinkling.
Hale held out the Shil-de ring in an open palm to Remy. “Here,” he said, as Remy took a step away from the ring like it would burn her. “Put it in your totem bag. It’s better you hang onto it than me.”
Remy took the ring with tentative fingers. Its power radiated from her fingertips, hammering through her bones. As soon as the ring touched her skin, the ruby embedded in the gold started to glow red.
Hale looked to the eerie red light, the muscle in his jaw popping out. “Why is it glowing?”
“Probably because I’m a red witch,” Remy said, quickly twisting toward the armoire. She had left her totem bag in her blue dress from the day before. The red dress she wore was so revealing, it had no space to hide the bag.
Pulling out her totem bag from the hidden pocket, she put the ring inside, grateful to not be holding that enormous power in her hand anymore. She took out the jewelry bag and began unfastening the golden chains around her neck and then the bangles, rings, and earrings. She unhooked the leather witch’s collar at last. She held it in her hand, sliding the prince’s golden-initialed ring off the end.
“Here,” Remy said as she turned to give it to him.
She froze. Hale stood half-undressed in his black, fitted undershorts. The collar of his tunic was unbuttoned, revealing his smooth, tanned skin.
“Get your mind out of the gutter.” He smirked as he grabbed the back of his tunic and hauled it over his head. All the thoughts faded out of Remy’s head as she took in his sculpted chest and arms. He was stunning.
“I’m getting changed. Leaving in twenty minutes, remember?”
“Right,” Remy said, spinning around as he chuckled. She heard the bathing chamber door close. She cursed herself for gawking at him but cursed him equally. He knew what he was doing changing in there instead of the bathing chamber. He had wanted Remy to see him.
It might have been the moonshine or the thrill of the heist but Remy thought: The game continues, I see. Fine, then.
She untied the back of her dress, letting its red fabric flow to the floor as she stepped out of it. She stood in only her red lace panties and red high heels. Bri had chosen her lingerie. Remy tried not to think about how the fae warrior had selected something that would fit her so perfectly.
Remy grabbed a hanger and hung the dress back up in the armoire. She would not be bringing it with her. It was not a dress for hiking or hunting the amulet of Aelusien. She put one heeled foot up on the armoire and bent over to undo the tiny buckle at her ankle. How did they unclasp these things? It had been a miracle she had buckled it in the first place. Remy fumbled with it, desperate to get these torture devices off her feet. At last, she got it. The heel dropped to the floor. Remy placed her foot down, relieved to have it flat on the floor again.
As she swapped to the other foot and began her fiddling with the second buckle, she heard the bathing chamber door reopen.
Silence. Not a single footstep sounded.
She tossed her loose, onyx hair over her shoulder as she looked back at the prince in the doorway. He wore his riding leathers. His mouth hung wide open in stunned stillness. Remy freed her foot at last and kicked off her second heel.
“What?” she asked with a knowing smile. She stood and turned to Hale, revealing the entire front of her body to him. “I’m just getting changed—get your mind out of the gutter.”
Hale barely bit out the words, “Touché.”
The prince stalked toward her. Remy thought for a second he’d grab her, but he halted right before they collided. He held up an open palm to her.
“My ring?” he said with an arched brow. His warm breath skittered over her bare skin, her chest, and her belly. She was well aware her nipples peaked against the brisk air.
Remy loosed a breath she hadn’t known she was hol
ding. Without breaking eye contact with the prince, she reached down blindly to the armoire and grabbed the prince’s ring. She put it in his hand, still ensnared in his gaze, and he slid it back onto his finger.
He moved to take the red string off his wrist. Remy placed a gentle hand on his arm, “Don’t,” she said. “It will protect you.”
She had whispered a simple protection spell over it. The string wouldn’t do much to ward against larger dangers, but it was still lucky.
“Your eyes are glowing red,” Hale said, mesmerized. She saw the red flames reflected in his own.
Remy lowered her gaze out of habit. A flush crept up her cheeks.
“What did I tell you?” Hale murmured. He held out a long finger, lifting her chin so that she would meet his eyes again, just as he had that day in the forest. He paused, his eyes searching her face, clenching and unclenching his jaw. After a long pause, he spoke, “You are the most beautiful creature I have ever beheld.”
He said it through gritted teeth.
“You say that like it’s a problem,” Remy breathed.
“It is,” Hale said, shaking with restraint.
“It doesn’t have to be,” Remy said, her voice only a whisper.
Hale’s nostrils flared like he could not believe what she had just said. He shook his head even as he leaned in closer to her, drawing himself slowly to her lips.
His soft mouth brushed lightly over hers.
“Remy,” he whispered her name like a prayer.
The sound made goosebumps ripple over her arms.
With a dizzying fervor, she kissed him back. Moving her body in tighter against him, she kissed him harder. Hale groaned as his hands moved over her body, skimming over the lace and settling on her backside.
“Seeing you tonight . . . in that fucking red dress.” His voice was no more than a predatory growl.
His mouth moved faster across hers. Remy opened for him, welcoming in his hot exploring tongue licking into hers with deft skill.
He pulled away only long enough to whip his fresh shirt off over his head and then his mouth was back on hers. Hale lifted Remy, pinning her to the door of the armoire as she wrapped her legs around him. He pressed his hips harder into her and she moaned. Reveling in the sensation of her skin pressed against his, Remy ground herself into him. She absorbed his hiss with her mouth.
A loud knock at the door halted their frenzy.
The continued knocking on the door hastily sobered them both. Hale thrust his arms back through his riding shirt, stalking to the door as he pulled it over his head once more.
“What?” he barked as he yanked the door open only a crack.
“Sorry to . . . interrupt.” Remy heard a laughing male voice through the door. She recognized it as belonging to the silver-haired male from the card game.
“What do you want, Bern?” Hale said with an air of annoyance rather than anger, like he had interrupted them in the middle of lovemaking and not thievery.
“You always were the trickster, Hale,” Bern said. “That little heist of yours was well played.”
Remy went rigid from behind the door. He knew.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Hale sighed, feigning a yawn.
Remy put her drunken swagger into her step as she moved to the door, grabbing a fur blanket off the bed and wrapping it around her shoulders. “Come back to bed . . . ,” she slurred, revealing herself in the cracked doorway in nothing but the blanket and her underwear. She slid herself under the prince’s arm, molding her body against his warm torso.
Bern held her eyes. He did not dare look over her body, but she could tell by the flare of his nostrils that he was scenting her. Whatever he smelled made those icy blue pupils widen.
“I’m not here to take it back from you,” Bern said, shifting his gaze back to Hale. “My . . . friend only wanted me to ensure it did not end up in Renwick’s hands.”
“Yes, this elusive employer of yours—would you care to tell us more about who is bankrolling you these days, Bern?” Hale wrapped his arm around Remy’s waist.
“He is someone that I suspect has similar goals to your own,” Bern said.
“And what goals do I have beyond drinking and fucking?” Hale cocked his head. His searing palm swept down Remy’s side like a brand, resting on her hip. His rough fingers squeezed into her skin.
Bern narrowed his eyes at Hale, unamused.
“To stamp out the rising power in the Northern Court,” Bern said as he shifted his gaze and spoke to Remy directly. “I think my employer would rather you have it, anyway.”
Remy’s throat tightened. What did he mean by that? What did he know?
“Then why are you here?” Hale asked with a chilling slowness.
“I may have been the first one to notice,” Bern said, shifting glances between the two of them, “but the others will soon figure out what you have done. I think Abalina is on to you. You must make haste.”
Talhan, Briata, and Carys were ready to move when Remy and Hale reached their door. The Twin Eagles sat on their packs on the floor, talking as though they sat around a campfire. Carys lounged on the bed by the window. Each had their weapons out, cleaning and sharpening them, as though an army lay on the other side of the door. The life of a warrior, Remy thought. They were always ready to fight or run.
Hale lifted his chin at them and all three were up on their feet, slewing their heavy packs over their shoulders.
The harbinger of bad news had disappeared as swiftly as he came. There was no sign of Bern as they moved down the hallway to Heather and Fenrin’s room. Hale gave a light knock. It took Heather a moment to open the door and when she did her face looked strained, nearly panicked.
“What’s wrong?” Remy asked, pushing in front of Hale.
“Fenrin, he’s . . . not well.” Heather replied, wringing her hands.
“I can come . . . ,” a weak, croaking voice called from inside the room. Remy brushed past Heather into the space. Hale was telling the Twin Eagles to ready the horses. Their heavy boots rumbled down the stairs. Carys remained in the hall, keeping watch.
When Remy got into the room, she inhaled sharply. Fenrin lay on the bed, ghost white and sweating. Dark half-moons bulged out from under his eyes. He was still in his riding clothes from the day’s travel the morning before. A green balm was spread across his chest, his shirt unbuttoned to the navel.
“It has gotten this much worse over the last few hours?” Remy whispered. She had seen Heather at dinner, and she still seemed to think Fenrin would be fine. But this . . . he looked on the brink of death.
Fenrin struggled to sit up, wheezing as though his lungs were filled with cotton wool. Remy rushed over to him and pushed him back down with more strength than she intended.
“Lie down,” she ordered. Fenrin had no fight in him to deny her. He smelled of mint and astringent leaves, one of Heather’s healing concoctions.
“Will he be all right?” Hale’s voice came from where he leaned, arms crossed, against the closed doorway.
“His fever is breaking,” Heather said with a tinge of relief. She held a glass bottle to the light to see how much was still inside. “He will be all right in a few more days, but it will be a long recovery.”
Remy did not fear becoming infected with whatever malady had befallen Fenrin. Hale, too, would likely be immune because he was fae, but Heather was looking gaunt and green as well. Remy knew Heather would also soon run the gambit of this infection. At least Heather would heal Fenrin enough to take care of herself by then.
“Do you have enough?” Remy asked, waving to the assortment of brown glass bottles on the table. “Enough for you too?”
“Yes,” Heather said, grimacing at how Remy knew she had taken ill as well. Fenrin’s eyes fluttered shut, as though sleep might claim him at any moment.
“He cannot travel in that condition. Neither should you, if you don’t want to end up like him.” Hale tilted his chin at Fenrin. “But Remy and I m
ust go.”
“No.” Fenrin’s eyes opened at that. “We are coming with you.”
Remy put a cool, gentle hand to her friend’s burning forehead. “You cannot come. You need to rest.” She turned back to Hale. His eyes tracked her every movement. “We cannot leave them here either, in case people come looking. The innkeeper knows that they are your servants. We cannot risk them staying here.”
Hale nodded, uncrossing his arms and pushing off the doorframe.
“We will secure private lodgings across the river for you both to recover in. You shouldn’t be around people, anyway,” he said, opening the door behind him. He said something to Carys in the hall. Remy heard the warrior’s boots thudding down the stairs as Hale ducked back into the room.
“Carys is on it.” His eyes darted back and forth between the three of them. “She’ll leave you with enough provisions that you won’t need to leave the lodgings. The people who will come searching for us will have cleared out by then.”
“Who is coming to look for you?” Heather stared at Hale. Even with her calm expression, Remy knew that was her angry face.
“It is fine, Heather,” Remy said carefully, “we have it under control . . .”
“We?” Heather asked, narrowing her eyes as she looked between Remy and Hale. This was the exact thing Remy didn’t want to happen. Not after Heather had warned Remy against any growing affections for the Eastern Prince. Remy’s cheeks flamed. If only Heather knew how much of a “we” there almost was if Bern had not interrupted them.
Remy turned to Hale and said, “Can I have a minute alone to say goodbye?”
“We have to go,” Hale said in a demanding tone.
“One minute,” Remy insisted, ignoring his command. Hale opened his mouth to say something more, but Remy cut him off. “You are the one wasting our time right now.”
Hale scowled at her but relented.
“One minute,” he reminded her bitterly as he stepped out into the hall. Remy wasn’t sure if it was far enough for his fae hearing to not eavesdrop. She hoped the bustle of the late-night tavern below would cover their voices.
