Page 13

Chapter

Seven

NIKOLAS

W e didn’t encounter any more knights on the road to Saldu. Just a few farmers hauling cartfuls of onions and apples. I pinched a few of the latter, passing them to Dain and Bel when the farmers weren’t looking.

Bel frowned with disapproval when I pressed the apple into her hand. Then her stomach growled, and I winked at her as I bit into my own apple.

The fruit was a lucky find because the meadow yielded little in the way of game. If rabbits inhabited the rolling hills, I didn’t see any.

“Nothing but chipmunks,” Dain mumbled, voicing my next thought.

Bel gave him a sharp look. “What do you mean?” Sudden understanding lit her gaze, and she swung toward me with a worried expression. “I don’t think I can eat a chipmunk.”

I polished an apple on my coat. “Glad to hear it, my lady, because they’re a nuisance to catch and even more difficult to roast.” I held up a hand, my thumb and forefinger less than an inch apart. “They’re good for about two bites of meat. We’d have to eat at least a dozen to make a proper meal.”

She looked like she might be sick. “Apples are fine.”

They weren’t, though. Not for the number of miles we’d put behind us.

My stomach cleaved to my spine, and I knew Dain and Bel weren’t faring any better.

Dinnertime had come and gone, and now the sun bled pink and gold over the sky.

Helios grew subdued, his body dimming with the setting sun.

We had no food or coin, not even a scrap of extra clothing.

Just a mystical connection I wasn’t privy to.

But Dain wasn’t one to indulge in the fanciful. If he said he felt pulled toward Bel, I believed him. It didn’t hurt that I felt a pull too. Sure, mine wasn’t magical. On the contrary, it was carnal and primitive.

And last night had only enhanced it. I stole a glance at her as we followed the dusty road. She’d kept her hood up, but the dark cloth couldn’t hide her beauty. The memory of her body against mine in the hollow was a warm, pleasant weight in my mind.

She was warm, which was to be expected. I didn’t have much in the way of formal education, and my knowledge of the elves was meager at best, but everyone knew the Summer Court thrived on the power of the sun. It made sense that Bel ran hot.

And if last night was any indication, her blood ran hot too. Now if I could just make myself stop thinking about it.

“There,” Dain said, pointing down the road.

In the distance, Saldu’s wall rose from the ground, the golden facade baked by the sun. With miles to go until we reached the city, the wall’s legendary carvings were faint suggestions, the scenes of feasting and celebration sparkling in the fading light.

“It’s beautiful,” Bel said, pausing as she gazed at the wall.

Helios hovered at her shoulder with a worried expression. “I shouldn’t get any closer,” he said. “Someone will see me.”

Bel took his hand. “It’s all right. Go get some rest. You’ll find me in the morning.”

“How?” I couldn’t help asking. He’d found her easily before, so I assumed it had something to do with magic.

“Magic,” he said, his tone slightly less scornful than usual. He yawned, a puff of smoke emerging from his mouth like a small, gray cloud. “Bel made me. I always know where she is.”

I couldn’t keep the surprise from my voice as I turned to Bel. “You made him?”

“It was a long time ago,” she said, her tone brisk. It softened as she turned back to Helios. “Go on. We’ll talk in the morning.”

He looked like he wanted to argue. But he nodded and then met my gaze. “Hurt her in any way, and I’ll turn you into charcoal.” He left in a streak of golden light.

As the embers he’d trailed winked out of sight, I pulled an apple from my pocket. “I think he’s starting to like me.” I twisted the stem from the apple and handed it to Bel. “Let’s get a closer look at the city, my lady, and I’ll find us something better to eat.”

We walked for another half hour as the sun sank beneath the horizon. Dain trudged beside me, darting occasional looks at Bel as if he couldn’t help himself.

As we entered the city’s outskirts, the landscape changed yet again.

Small farmsteads appeared, along with rows of neat houses with tiny gardens and smoke curling from their chimneys.

After another mile, the rows of homes became bustling villages, the road lined with merchants’ shops and taverns overflowing with noise and light.

The scent of woodsmoke mingled with the telltale bite of ale.

Dain met my gaze over Bel’s head. “Seems like a good place to stop.”

I nodded, looking for a suitable tavern. Bigger was better. Somewhere the three of us could blend in with a crowd.

Moments later, I found it—a sprawling three-story inn with colorful lanterns hanging from its eaves. Music and laughter spilled from its open doorway, along with the mouthwatering aroma of roasted meat.

“The Wayward Blossom,” I read from the swinging sign. A breeze picked up, ferrying the scent of baked bread to my nose. My mouth watered, and hunger clawed at my gut.

“We have no money,” Bel reminded me, her voice weary even as she stared at the inn with obvious longing.

“Leave that to me,” I said.

Instant disapproval shaded her eyes. “You’re not going to steal, are you?”

I gave her my best grin as I proffered my arm. “Only hearts, my lady.”

Inside, the Wayward Blossom was even more lively than it had appeared on the outside.

The main floor was packed with patrons drinking and eating.

A quartet of musicians plied fiddles and a drum on a small platform.

Barmaids wound between the tables with tankards of ale topped with foam. Laughter and music vibrated the air.

I guided Bel and Dain to a table near the wall. Bel sat gingerly, and she cast furtive looks around as she tugged her hood more securely over her ears.

Dain leaned across the table, his blue eyes earnest as he touched her wrist. “You draw more attention to yourself by fussing.”

Faint pink stained her cheekbones. She gave a slight nod and put her hands in her lap.

“Stay here,” I told them. “I’ll return with food and drink.”

Dain caught my eye. “Be careful.”

I palmed his shoulder, lingering just a little too long. “Always,” I murmured. The weight of his gaze followed me as I wove through the crowd, searching for easy marks.

A familiar satisfaction bloomed within me as targets appeared like coins winking in the dirt.

A merchant with a bulging purse sat on a stool, his cheeks red from too much ale.

A few stools down, a buxom woman with several rings on her fingers leaned into her companion and laughed.

Near one of the mullioned windows, a man in a velvet jacket argued with his tablemates.

Playing cards and gold coins littered the table between them.

The man gestured wildly, sending a few coins tumbling to the floor.

The merchant would be easiest. His cup was nearly empty, and the barmaid had just passed by. I shouldered through the crowd, patting a few shoulders companionably as I made my way to the merchant’s side.

“Another round for my friend here,” I told the barkeep, slapping down a coin I’d lifted from a patron as I crossed the floor. The merchant looked up blearily. The barkeep placed a fresh tankard before him, and the merchant gave me a grateful smile.

“Very kind,” he slurred, raising his tankard. “Very kind indeed.”

Plucking a cup from the bar, I clinked it against his. “To prosperity,” I said. While he drank, I loosened his purse strings.

Moments later, I slid into the chair next to Bel as a serving woman placed three steaming trenchers of food on our table. Roasted chicken nestled among vegetables swimming in thick gravy. The bread underneath was golden-brown and glistening with butter.

Dain’s groan of happiness was loud enough to be heard in Solbarren.

Bel looked at me. “How did you—?” Her eyes widened above the finger I placed over her lips.

“Questions will spoil the food.”

She pushed my hand away, but reluctant amusement glimmered in her eyes. “You’re incorrigible.”

I tore a piece of chicken off the bone. “Does that mean handsome?”

She sighed, but her lips quirked as she turned to her food. Dain raised an eyebrow at me. I shrugged, and he snorted before falling upon his food like a starving wolf.

By unspoken agreement, the three of us spent the next few minutes stuffing our faces. Dain made short work of his meal, barely chewing as he inhaled the meat and vegetables. Bel was more polite, cutting her meat into manageable pieces.

“You’re good at that,” she said after a moment. “Stealing.”

I licked gravy from my thumb. “It’s called pickpocketing , and I’m not good.” Leaning sideways, I bumped her shoulder gently with mine. “I’m the best.”

“And so modest,” Dain murmured.

Bel made an admirable effort not to smile. As I popped a bite of bread into my mouth, she tilted her head. “You really think it’s something to be proud of?”

“It’s better than swinging a sword,” I said around the bread. “Warriors separate people’s heads from their bodies. I only separate them from their purses.”

Her lips parted, and something that might have been respect moved through her eyes. Glancing around, she lowered her voice. “Don’t you worry you’ll get caught? You could be hanged.”

“Not tonight,” I said. It was an easy declaration with good food in my stomach and an abundance of gold in my pocket. And Bel’s body heat caressing my arm.

“More ale?”

I looked up to see a barmaid next to the table. Red curls peeked from under her frilly white cap, and plump breasts strained the laces of her bodice. She blew a fat curl from her face as she plunked down a fresh round of tankards.

“We didn’t order it,” Dain said.

Interest lit the woman’s eyes as she looked from his jaw to his thick shoulders. “It’s on the house.” Hefting her tray, she moved to the next table, a generous sway in her hips.

Bel followed her progress before giving Dain a mild look. “I think you have an admirer.”