He’s back to calling me princess, which I suppose is fair considering how I told him very clearly I didn’t want him calling me Ana. Still, part of me thinks it sounds wrong now—at least, when he’s not deliberately ticking me off, like he’s so good at doing. Right now, after the truce we made on the mountain, I think I’d prefer something friendlier.
And then there was that moment.
I examine Leon as he walks ahead of me. He’s built so beautifully—broad shoulders tapering into a toned torso and narrow waist. Thighs thick enough that he shouldn’t be nearly as graceful as he is. I’m not going to pretend I haven’t noticed the fae is as handsome as he is deadly.
Is that the only reason why part of me hoped he’d kiss me when we sat so close together in the sun? There was something between us. It feltmutual. But maybe I was seeing things that weren’t there. I’m inclined to blame that dream from back at the inn. It planted lurid ideas in my mind, and now I’m struggling to shake them.
But there was the concern on his face as I woke up. I didn’t imagine that, did I? Or the way he sounded when he talked about what I did to the cleavers. He seemed proud, as if he was invested in my success.
I continue to scrutinize him, pointlessly searching for some detail that will reveal the truth to me. Because I have no idea what he wants. With me, with Trova, with anything at all. At the same time, though, I have to accept that I’ve trusted him with my life several times over, and he’s come through. That’s why I took his hand on the mountain—not because there was a moment between us that I thought might turn into more. But because I knew if I took it, I could rely on it—on him. He wouldn’t let go when I needed his support.
We’re off the mountain now and moving through brush a few yards from a dirt track. Eventually, Leon stops beside a dark stone deliberately driven into the earth: a marker.
“Here,” he says, and whistles.
It’s a low sound, but it carries, and within moments there’s rustling in the undergrowth. For a few seconds, my eyes can’t make out anything other than movement among the plants, then six fae appear.
They look familiar but not, now that I’m seeing them all without their glamours. Four men, including Alastor, and two women. I recall the silver-haired lady from the tavern, but there’s also a green-eyed woman wearing fighting leathers as black as her hair. Like all fae, they’re taller than an average human. Seeing them all together, their sharp fae eyes fixed on me, makes me feel unusually small.
“Captain, good to see you made it out of the capital with your head still attached,” says one of the men, stepping forward to clasp Leon’s hand in greeting. Whereas Alastor’s blond locks are practically white, this man’s hair is golden. His blue eyes are unnaturally bright as they shift from Leon to me. He’s got a smile that would make the girls of Otscold weak at the knees, but I don’t miss the calculating glint in his gaze.
“Stratton,” Leon says, returning the greeting. “The real question is whether you made it out of Elmere without adding to your list of paramours.” I can’t help marveling at how much more relaxed Leon is now that he’s reunited with his friends. It’s there in the lightness in his eyes, the easy way he’s standing. He’s glad to be back among these people.
“Don’t worry, we kept a close eye on him,” says the silver-haired woman. “No hearts were broken or wild oats sown.”
Stratton shrugs, cheerfully resigned to everyone spoiling his fun.
“Not for want of trying,” he says, then his eyes slide back toward me. “Although maybe I should be leaving all that to you, captain.” He winks.
These fae are strong and dangerous, I have no doubt about that, but if I’m going to be traveling with them, I figure I should take a stand early. I want to make it clear I’m not a piece of luggage to be talked about like I’m not here.
I move my eyes over Stratton, sizing him up.
“Princess Morgana Angevire,” I say, holding out my hand. “And you are?”
Stratton takes the hand and offers me a bow as he presses a kiss to my knuckles, though he can’t resist throwing me one of those mischievous smiles again.
“Lord Stratton Mureln, Your Highness,” he says. Somehow, he makes the last two words sound like an invitation. I glance at Leon in time to catch his eyes flashing with warning in Stratton’s direction. Then I lift my head, addressing them all.
“It’s nice to meet you. I’m trying to decide whether these are better circumstances than the last. I might be a wanted criminal now, but at least guards aren’t dragging me out the door this time.”
It does what I intended, breaking the ice. One of the men chuckles quietly, and the silver-haired woman smiles. But the dark-haired woman and the man with the red beard are less impressed. I remember him from the tavern—he’s the one who tried to bully Kit—and decide I don’t care for his approval either way. I wonder about the woman with black hair and search for clues as to why she seems more suspicious about me than the others.
“We can talk more once we’ve eaten,” Alastor says, unsurprisingly. He’s not one to miss a meal if he can help it. “They’ve found a decent place for shelter a few miles from here,” he tells Leon.
They lead us to a spot where the undergrowth thins out beside a river, where a small herd of horses waits for us. The others give Alastor and Leon new steeds, and one of the fae—a huge, long-haired man who hasn’t yet spoken, quietly hands me the reins to a pony.
“We managed to find her when we heard you were coming. We figured a smaller horse would do for you. But you’re taller than I expected. My apologies, Your Highness.”
I look at the pony with gratitude, relieved I won’t have to navigate one of their big beasts on my own.
“No, this is perfect. Thank you…?” I put a question at the end of my words, asking for his name.
“Hyllus Dawellir, Your Highness.”
I nod and mount the horse. As we begin to ride, Alastor passes by me.
“Wow, you got Hyllus to say something,” he says cheerfully. “He must like you.” My only answer is to smile and hope he’s right.
