Page 21 of A Court of Truth and Thorns (Royal Scout #2)

KALI

W e meet an hour before dawn at a trailhead half a league into the forest. The crisp night air prickles my eyes and mouth, and my breath mists in the full moon’s soft light. I hear horses’ neighs, heralding Wil and Rune’s arrival. Luca, Calvin, and the girls are already here.

“No problem getting the horses, then?” I ask, petting a mare’s soft flank. The thick, shiny winter coat feels wonderful beneath my palm.

“Turned them out in the far pasture last night.” Wil checks their tack. “The hostlers won’t know until the evening feeding. Our disappearance will be noted before the animals’.”

Jasmine appears beside us, handing out dark tunics and trousers. Luca passes out weapons, inspecting each of us to ensure buckles are tight and metal bits are muted with strips of cloth. His hand hesitates as he reaches to test the strap at my chest. I kick him in the shin and he grins.

Rune presses a small bundle into my hands. “Not your real ones,” he whispers into my ear, his breath warm and tickling, “but perhaps they’ll do.”

I unwrap the gift and feel warmth of a different kind spread through me.

A vambrace with throwing daggers. Looking up at Rune, I mouth my thanks.

He nods, a few strands of silver hair peeking out from beneath a dark hat.

Reaching up, I tuck away the stray hairs, letting my fingers feel the angled line of his jaw, brush along his high cheekbones.

His skin has the clean roughness of a recent shave.

Rune catches my wrist, presses his cheek into my palm. One of the rare touches we’ve had all week. His chest expands and lowers with deep, even breaths. A mirror to mine.

“Are you two coming?” Wil says, letting his horse stick her large nose between Rune and me. I flush but Rune just chuckles softly before releasing me, the sound a soft rumble deep in his chest. I try to burn the perfection of this moment into my memory, a boon to hold on to through whatever comes.

Wil’s mare huffs.

Right. Taking the offered reins from Wil’s hand, I swing into my mare’s saddle and nudge the horse to the head of the line, where Calvin already waits.

The man has the maps memorized and will be our navigator while I take care of the forward safety.

Reaching into the well of magic stirring gently beside my heart, I pull out a small strand of red-tinged light.

The colored shade protects our night vision and illuminates our footing enough to protect the horses’ legs, all without being the highly visible beacon that white light is.

Perhaps Mistress Bobenshish is more brilliant than I’ve given her credit for.

We travel all day, alternating between riding at a trot and dismounting to walk the horses.

We don’t dare push them harder. If they go lame, our five-day journey will take three times that.

As the sun begins to snake toward the horizon, we come to the stream Calvin pegged as our camping spot for the night.

“Not bad, your planning,” I murmur to the old man, getting a hint of a smile in return.

“Wait until you see what the boys practiced while you played with magic,” he says with a wink. “I think they could storm that abbey blindfolded and never run into a single wall.”

We dismount in companionable silence, each member of the group eager to lend a helping hand.

When Rune and I get up to do a security sweep and take watch, Luca rolls his eyes.

Rune gives him a vulgar gesture that has Luca’s laughter following us into the woods.

My face heats and I burrow deeper into my cloak.

“One good thing about returning to Dansil,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest. “It’s warmer. ”

Rune pulls off his coat and lays it over my shoulders. The thick cloth still traps his warmth and smells headily male.

I shake my head, but Rune touches a finger to my lips.

His silver hair peeks out from under his wool hat to brush against his jaw.

“I grew up in Everett. Even without the coat, I am better equipped for the weather. I would little put it past you to freeze to death before you realized you needed help.”

“Your faith in my survival skills is overwhelming.”

His brows rise together. “What survival skills, pray tell?”

I shove him. He shoves back, catching me before the back of my head can connect with a tree trunk.

His eyes study my face, their dark irises kissed with a speckle of emerald.

He swallows, as if just realizing his hands are still on me.

The mist of his breath dances with mine.

My heart gallops. I feel the reined-in strength of the arms supporting me, the warmth of Rune’s palms blazing through layers of clothes.

An errant snowflake lands on Rune’s upper lip, and I am desperately curious as to what it would taste like. A tiny drop of ice on warm lips .

Clearly, Rune is right about my pitiful survival skills. A whole army could march on me right now and I wouldn’t notice.

I clear my throat and find my footing. My legs regretfully take my full weight. The snowflake on Rune’s lip melts and rolls down his mouth. I catch it with my finger.

Rune gasps lightly as my finger touches his lips.

A rush of sudden desire heats the air between us.

His eyes widen, his breath coming as quickly as mine does.

His fingers slide up my neck, cradling the base of my head with a deadly strength tamed to a gentle touch.

I inhale his scent. Familiar. Musky. Distinctly his.

I rise onto my toes, my mouth reaching toward his. I can already taste him. Exquisitely warm. Primal. My heart pounds.

Rune bends his head to let our lips complete their connection.

My heart halts in anticipation.

And sprints into a full gallop at the sudden pounding of approaching hoofbeats and a shrill yell. Rune and I spring apart.

A throwing dagger drops into my hand, Rune’s sword already glistening in his.

Our hobbled horses dance and whinny as they feel one of their own approaching.

The horse is visible now, a single animal running too hard for the terrain.

The rider, bundled in layers of wool, pulls up beside us with a hard jerk on the reins.

Rune grabs the bridle before the unhappy animal throws its burden to the ground. The sharp edge of his sword rests against the intruder’s neck. “Who are you?” he demands. “And what are you doing here?”

“I wanted to ask the same of you.” The rider pulls down her hood. “Don’t just stand there, brother. Help me down off this beast.”