Page 43

She jerked back. “I can explain.”

I merely regarded her, prepared not to trust a single utterance from those lips.

“It’s a good explanation,” she offered.

I prolonged the silence for a longer spell. “Be very careful what you say.”

Her throat worked, a rolling pulse that traveled down the column. How did her body achieve such authentic motions? Why did my attention linger?

What sort of plagiary was this? A marionette playing a real girl, or a real girl playing a marionette? What would it take to dismantle her?

My gaze lurched from her delicate neck to her pupils. Any attempts to flee would be thwarted, my limbs longer and faster than hers. She would not make it far, and when she pursed her lips, I knew that she’d drawn the same conclusion.

Ignoring her protests and Nicu’s demands that I leave her be, I used the loose cords that had restrained her to better effect, winding them around her wrists, lest she experience a daring mood swing.

Her objections grew more colorful as I relieved her of those wondrous hatchets, unclipping one from her calf, the other from her nape.

The wind gave the leaves a final toss as daylight sank behind the treetops, the atmosphere settling along with my anticipations. Most unfortunately, search troops had not ventured this far yet. As I peered about, no other disturbances loitered in our midst, other than the cold bite of dusk.

Not many leagues off lay the pumpkin wood, where we might find warmth and respite for the evening. With a jerk of my chin and a thrust of my blade, I ordered her to move, indicating the direction.

She trounced ahead, her hips gyrating in an exaggerated fashion meant to illustrate her indignation, her obstinance—and quite possibly, her womanly attributes.

Leading them to my courser and tethering it with the mule, I gave Nicu the chore of holding the reins and minding the creatures while I monitored the lumber maiden. That loyal woodpecker fluttered above, casting us glances. Helpless, Nicu mouthed to the girl something that resembled the makings of an apology, to which she shook her head in dismissal, as if to reassure him.

A form of silent communication passed between them, something that had been previously discussed. I found myself unable to decipher the crux of this exchange, which concerned me, because it meant they had already established a bond.

During our trek, none of us spoke, a sound decision as the girl had no right to that liberty, and any confidence between myself and Nicu could wait until we reached shelter.

Like a thief in the night, a gray and black-striped critter sidled behind a trunk, two pinpoints of light focused on us from around the corner. The raccoon hissed from the mine of its throat, without opening its jowls to do so.

Inevitably, perhaps because she could not resist, the girl began to complain, whining under her breath like an imprudent child. Most of her infantile grievances centered on wood-chewing insects, creaking joints, and some sort of offense having to do with her skin splintering.

Darkness enveloped sky by the time we reached the pumpkin wood. Squash dotted the area, a consistency of shapes but a variety of sizes scattered about the trees, curling vines spilling from the gourds’ thick stems. Shades of orange emitted a glow in the darkness, this being the time of year when the squashes thrived at their ripest, their pulsing luminescence akin to the candlelit pumpkins propped on sills for Hallo Fest, except these wild gourds needed no mortal assistance to radiate.

The edibles multiplied in every direction, stretching into the mist. The girl’s pace slowed, her head slinging from left to right in fascination. Granting myself a reprieve from guarding her, I admired the view as well, having forgotten how mesmerizing this woodland could be.

Deeper into the forest, a cottage materialized. The log-stacked facade boasted three levels that pitched to the clouds, the home flanked by vegetable beds and a water mill dipping into a duck pond. The modest size of the structure would stun the denizens of this land if they knew to whom the dwelling belonged.

The Royals had wished it so, longing for an inconspicuous residence that required no guards or servants whenever the cottage lacked occupancy. To commoners or passersby, it would appear a moderately prosperous home, perhaps the abode of a successful merchant, rather than a getaway for the monarchy.

The princess and jester enjoyed it during celebratory occasions and rare interludes away from their duties.

“The Royal retreat,” I said aloud.

“Is this a prank?” the girl sputtered. “Seriously? A miller could live here.”

The interior furnishings would further disappoint her, not that impressing the girl held significance. Anyone curious enough to peek through the windows would see humble decor, lacking in finery such as gilding or tapestries. I did not waste time defending my sovereigns’ preferences to this juvenile female.

Gazing at the facade, Nicu’s expression idled between comforted and baleful. He had spent many restful weeks here with his family, yet it was not the destination he’d set out for. My temper over his rebellion had begun to mount, but his melancholy countenance cut through my anger.

Because he knew this retreat, remembered the placement of every item in its vicinity, I felt confident entrusting certain tasks to him, hoping to bolster his spirits. Ordinarily, chores involving direction and location proved both a battle and victory. In this case, Nicu easily led the mule and horse to the stable.

Night descended without any tiresome slants of twilight; we would not be disturbed. In their search for Nicu, my comrades would likely arrive by tomorrow. I predicted the sun would be fading once more by then, and although I could take action myself, ushering Nicu and the girl to them, I did not wish to create unnecessary drama. We would wait here in peace.

My skin tingled. I turned, caught the lumber maiden staring, and hurled an imperious gaze her way, making it plain that I had foiled her plans, whatever they might have been.

The glowing pumpkins highlighted her body, her inexplicable skin smoldering, a sight that bothered and exhausted me, coaxing its way past my abdomen and sinking below the navel.