Page 19

CHAPTER 19

T he bandits’ fire was a far cry from the sad little flames Laena had kindled on their first night. Callum might’ve been impressed with her ability to coax warmth from steel and stone, but they’d had no tools to chop proper firewood, which had necessitated constant maintenance to keep it going.

When the bandits made camp, she set to work helping them collect kindling while Fizz and the others chopped larger fallen branches. Soon the flames were crackling, and Maynard was encouraging Laena and Callum to sit while Fizz tossed savory roots into a pot.

When Laena dipped her hand into her pocket to check on Brin, the little shimmerling licked at her fingertips. Callum had produced Brin from his pocket as soon as they’d stopped, and Laena had barely been able to restrain herself from throwing her arms around his neck.

She wasn’t sure he’d thank her for that.

With a silent promise to sneak some food Brin’s way, Laena settled on the ground beside Callum, holding her hands out to the flames .

“At odds, are you?” Maynard asked.

Laena blinked at the older man, confused, but he merely chuckled and waved his finger back and forth between herself and Callum. “A married couple, and a young one at that, seated by the fire with nary a touch? After such a frightening adventure? You’re at odds, or I’m the King of the Sea.”

Laena had nearly forgotten that she and Callum were meant to be married. Though Callum hadn’t been able to say as much, she could guess the reason for the ruse. Kindly though Maynard and his ‘bandits’ were, it might be too great a test to reveal their true identities. The captain of the King’s Guard and an Etran princess? They’d make more from a ransom than whatever Callum had promised to pay.

Callum scooted closer to her and wrapped an arm around her waist. He kept his fingers loose at her side, where other men would have taken the excuse to sneak a squeeze. It was the bare minimum of decency, certainly, only… Laena found herself wishing he’d try it.

“We’re not at odds,” Callum said. “We’re merely exhausted.”

Maynard smiled at them, bobbing his head like he knew better. Laena wondered if she ought to play along, pretend to be angry with him. But exhaustion was starting to fray her ability to play this game. She was longing for a decent meal and a night of uninterrupted sleep.

With Callum’s body flush against her side, she might fall asleep right here and now.

Fizz appeared with bowls of stew and a proud smile. And, Laena realized as he hovered over Maynard’s shoulder, the expectation of a verdict on the quality of the meal. He was bouncing on the balls of his feet, his hands clasped behind his back.

“Hand it around, Fizz,” another of the bandits complained, but the young man waited .

“We’ve got new tastebuds at the fire,” Fizz replied. “I can’t waste the opportunity to improve.”

Laena spooned a mouthful of stew into her mouth, eyes widening at the medley of flavors that Fizz had somehow mixed into the dish. It was savory and distantly sweet, and she had the feeling he’d created it as a companion to the molasses rolls he’d shared earlier. An herbal note in the background that didn’t drown out the natural taste of the roots… it was beyond any stew she’d cooked herself, truly.

“How did you do that?” she asked. “Out here in the woods?”

Fizz grinned. “Practice.” He winked. “And a satchel full of spices. I keep it with me at all times.”

“You’re forgetting the number of failures you’ve forced us to choke down.” Gretchen stomped over and jerked the pot away from Fizz. “Feed the rest of us, will you?”

Maynard ignored his crew’s squabbling, intent on his food. “Tell me,” he said. “How did you two meet?”

Unbidden, a vision rose to her mind of Callum appearing at the palace gates to insist that her own guards let her in. Truly she was a fool, to think of something so ridiculous—he’d also gone tearing out of his chambers half-naked to chase after an assassin. But it was the image of him staring at that guard, insisting the man respect her, that lodged in her mind.

If I had any sense, you would be in chains by now.

Would he have done the same, had he known about her magic?

“He assisted me,” she said softly. “In a… in a matter of some delicacy.”

Tucked beneath his shoulder as she was, she could feel him shift to look down at her, and she flushed. No need to let him see how much his intervention had saved her. His numerous interventions, at this point.

No doubt he regretted those now that he knew her secret.

“I’m a seamstress, you see,” she continued, “and he was just the right size to model a wedding gown I was sewing. For a horse.”

Maynard threw his head back and laughed, and several of the others joined him. But it was Callum’s laugh that caught her breath in the back of her throat, the vibration of his chest at her back. “A tall tale,” he said.

“It isn’t,” she insisted, turning to pinch his chin between her fingers. “He looks beautiful in lace.”

The reckoning was coming. He might have the decency to be sorry when he clapped her in irons, but she had to believe he might well do it just the same, whether she’d saved his life or not. No matter how tightly his arm was wrapped around her now. No matter how intently he watched her. No matter how pleasant his laugh.

When the dinner was cleared and the laughter had faded into murmurs, Fizz and the others laid out pallets among the trees while Gretchen and Maynard set up to take first watch. Reluctant though they might seem to be, making a home in the woods, the rest of the bandits arranged their bedrolls with efficiency. Fizz showed Laena and Callum to a spot between a more secluded pair of trees, a pallet for the two of them.

A single pallet. For the married couple they were pretending to be.

“One pallet,” Laena said, mostly because she couldn’t help herself. “Not two?”

Maynard, lingering by the fire, let out a laugh. “You’re not still as angry with him as all that, are you, mistress? Nothing a bit of sleep can’t cure, I’m sure.”

“Sleep,” Laena said. “Right.”

Callum glanced over his shoulder, the flames flickering warm shadows across his face. “I could offer to take the first watch in their stead,” he said softly. “I’m not sure they’d trust me.”

But Laena shook her head. “You’re as weary as I am. ”

Clearly he couldn’t argue with that. Together, they settled onto the pallet, which, if not entirely comfortable, was surprisingly thick and protective against the bumpy roots of the forest floor. Laena settled onto her back, propping her hands on her stomach, where a knot of tension was slowly building. Callum’s elbow brushed hers, sending an electric charge up her arm, and she shivered.

“Why did you have to say we were married?” she whispered.

“I didn’t think it through,” he replied.

Laena shifted onto her side, propping her head on her hand. “What, you’re not going to pretend it was to protect me?”

Callum was already on his side—she’d expected him to lie on his back, more for her—and the size of the pallet meant they were lying scandalously close, mere inches separating his hips from hers. It would be nothing to wrap her leg around his, to invite the touch he’d so carefully withheld at the fire.

“Would you accept such an answer?” he asked.

“Absolutely not. I need no one’s protection.”

He lifted a hand to her face, brushing a strand of hair away from her cheek and tucking it behind her ear, his finger lingering on the shell of her ear. “Perhaps I am the one who needs protection,” he said, a mere undertone in the dark.

Protection from her, he must mean. Protection from her magic. Dread creeped up her throat and lodged itself there, sending pulses of anxiety through her chest. “Will you tell the king?” she asked.

Will you clap me in irons? That half of the question went unspoken, but it was implied. It hung between them like it had the power to push them apart. Whatever he said next, whatever he had decided—or not decided—would define the rest of this journey.

She could escape him, if she needed to. She could run to Silerith, beg for asylum there.

His fingertips trailed down her neck, and her skin came alive at his touch, goosebumps flickering down her spine. “I thought I’d lost you,” he said.

For a moment, Laena forgot to breathe.

Not “magic is evil” or “I’ll have to report this.” Not even “If I had any sense, you would be in chains by now.”

I thought I’d lost you.

He smelled of leather and woodsmoke, a delicious combination, and it had been so long since anyone had touched her like this. “They’re not watching,” she said, her own voice like an exhale. “You don’t need to pretend.”

He leaned closer. “I’m not pretending.” His breath was hot against her lips, his mouth a hair’s breadth from hers.

“But the magic…”

“I spent a day and a night fearing you were gone,” he said. “I found you held against your will by people who’ve already tried to spill your blood and damn near succeeded. I spent today pretending to be your husband, and wishing…”

He trailed off, and she found herself aching for him to continue, to hear the words his lips wouldn’t form. “Damn the magic, Laena. If you say it’s not a heart-tithe, I believe you.”

She couldn’t be hearing him correctly. It wasn’t possible.

Only he was looking at her with that blue-eyed intensity, all seriousness. All truth. Callum Farrow was all blunt force. He might have a talent for subterfuge, should he try it, but she knew enough of him by now to know that he preferred his words to be taken at face value.

And he said he believed her. How long had it been since someone had believed her? She’d had to extract a rotting crystal from her garden to convince Katrina of the danger facing Etra.

Callum believed her, trusted her, with no evidence or proof, only her word against what he’d seen in the cabin. And in fact, the evidence pointed harshly against her; he could not be blamed for attributing the lingering scent of the heart-tithe to her magic rather than Milla’s .

Yet Callum believed her. He trusted her.

Tears stung her eyes, rising quick and fierce, and she blinked them away, hoping he would attribute them to the dryness of the fire, the exhaustion of the day.

Callum must have interpreted her silence as a denial, her tears as fear, because he let out a breath. “But I’ll stop, if you ask me to.”

As if to demonstrate the truth of it, he drew back, allowing the coldest air she’d ever felt to drift between them. This was a cold she did feel, hollow in a way she couldn’t explain.

Laena brought a hand to his face, drawing him back toward her, tipping her face to meet his.

And yet before their lips could touch, a horse screamed at the edge of camp. Torches flared throughout the woods, and the startled figures of the bandits scrambled up from their pallets.

“Up with you, criminals,” a man’s voice commanded. Callum cursed, releasing Laena as he leapt to his feet.

“Demons,” he said. “It’s the King’s Guard.”