Page 137 of A Cursed Son

One guard comes to us, while another checks the fainted men.

Marlak repeats what he was told, strangely omitting Crisine, then says, “Apologies to your queen, but we’ll have to leave now. We wouldn’t want to cause any more trouble.”

Tarlia and Ziven come to my mind then. They must be dying with worry in the Court of Bees castle. I turn to the guard. “The Krastel Prince and Princess will be worried about me. Can you let them know I’m well?”

The guard nods. “I’ll tell them right away. It’s a promise.” He taps Marlak’s shoulder, but looks at both of us. “We won’t forget what you did today.”

Marlak shakes his head. “It was nothing.” He points at the fallen men. “Tell me what you find out about them. I’d appreciate that.”

He then takes my hand. I don’t know why it feels so comforting to feel his rough, scarred fingers entwined with mine, why it’s so good to feel his touch. It’s as if there’s an energy connecting us, moving through our arms and hands, all the way to our hearts. Mine, at least. Dangerous feeling—and yet, I don’t want to pull away my hand. And like that, Marlak and I are on our way to the forest.

I smile at the Court of Bees princess as we pass by her. “It was a pleasure to meet you.”

She nods, but it looks like a small bow. “Same.”

I’m still shaking from the attacks, from what I saw, and in this state, the darkness of trees looks looming and dangerous, a place that might harbor all kinds of enemies. I shouldn’t feel like that, though. The attackers were defeated. There shouldn’t be anyone else after me right here, right now.

“Are you all right?” Marlak whispers.

“Yes. Just… spooked.”

“I know. We’ll talk later.”

He pulls my hand and gives it a quick kiss.

I’m stunned, since I thought we were back to no more kisses, but I don’t want to say anything lest I attract some strange creature. I don’t want to berate or tease him either, considering I’m not even sure how I feel.

Leaves ruffle above us, and I step closer to Marlak, but he whispers in my ear, “It’s Cherry Cake.”

His low voice and warm breath bring a pleasant shiver down my spine. I need to stop feeling like that or I won’t be able to think anymore.

At least, the magnificent unicorn lands in front of us and I can stop thinking about Marlak’s voice. No, I’m still thinking about it when he lets go of my hand and puts me in the saddle. Strangely, this time I don’t see that little rope ladder I climbed up to escape from the hill.

Marlak climbs behind me, and then we take off, gaining altitude quickly, fresh wind on my face and shoulders.

“We’re going north,” he speaks close to my ear again, so I can hear him despite the wind.

I wonder if he’s doing it on purpose to get a reaction. My body does react, but whose body wouldn’t? I nod because I know he won’t hear me with the wind. And the truth is that I’m stunned and tired, with too much to process, too much to think about, and yet now that there’s no danger around me, all I can think about is his lips on my breasts, his tongue caressing mine, his hand between my legs. Can someone burst from so much wanting?

I should be thinking about Tarlia and what she told me about Sayanne, should be wondering what those men wanted, if Crisine really pretended she was kidnapped, should be thinking about where we are going. These thoughts are there, somewhere in my mind, telling me to pay attention to them, but the wanting is so much louder.

Cherry Cake slows down, gliding above trees. There’s less wind now, but still a little chilly.

Marlak’s hands move to my shoulders. “Cold?”

“A little.”

He rubs my arms. “We’ll land soon.”

Soon is not that soon, as we keep flying in this dark night, under a trail of stars and above so many forests, down to a wide river near a village, from where I see a cluster of lights.

We indeed land at the riverbank and dismount. Marlak holds my hand again, and I can see that he’s attentive, careful. This is not a safe place. We reach the outskirts of the village, where there are some five wooden row boats on the bank.

He gestures for me to sit on one boat.

“We’re stealing a boat?” I whisper.

“I’m stealing. Don’t take thieving credit when you shouldn’t.”