Page 27 of The Sunbound Princess
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 aninch 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.
Shewas 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.
