Karla waved her partner off, keeping her focus on Ronin. “The king had no part in that. He was betrayed by a rebel group known as MAS.”
28
“Each betrayal begins with trust.”
Martin Luther
Cora perched on the back of her horse and stared at the rear ends in front of her. Horse butts and hunter butts. They were all a bunch of buttheads as far as she was concerned. Honestly, they needed to work on their communication skills.
She waited for Phil and Karla to pull ahead a little before turning to Ronin. The heir of the Eyrie wore a stern expression. No, not the heir, anymore. The king.
She sucked in a breath. She couldn’t use “Majesty” for Ronin anymore. They hadn’t spoken about his father’s death, not since Alara. Ronin would talk when and if he wanted to. Until then, she took her cue from him, and kept her thoughts to herself.
Cora’s mind reeled and tried to keep up. Though she hoped for Ronin’s sake, Ava received incorrect information or lied about King Edgar’s death, with everything else going on, things didn’t look good.
Regardless of Ronin’s current title, she’d seen this particular look often enough during his formal court appearances when she caught glimpses of him through the crowd. With his eyebrows bunched, forehead creased, and jaw clenched, he gripped the reins tightly and sat stiffly. These things could be explained away with his inexperience with riding, but when paired with all his other tells, Cora knew how he felt.
Ronin was worried.
Good. So was she.
“Why are you doing this?” she hissed, keeping her gaze trained on the hunters. “They can’t be trusted. They’ve already betrayed our people. They betrayed you.” And these particular humans made fun of her, which was completely irrelevant and insignificant in the face of a peace pact between their two nations.
Ronin drew in long even breaths in a visible effort to calm himself. “They could’ve shot us down outside the campsite.”
“Actually,” Karla bellowed over her shoulder. “We could’ve shot you in the campsite, but we thought it best to let you finish dressing.”
“Figured you’d be more receptive to the message.” Phil nodded. “Plus, we were completely mesmerized by Cora’s intricate dressing routine that we needed a moment to recover.”
Heat spread across her face and neck. She clutched the reins and imagined punching them both in the face.
“I have to admit, it mesmerized me, too,” Ronin grumbled. He didn’t sound pleased, though.
“Screw all of you,” she said.
Karla twisted in her saddle. “Is that some kind of sapavian offer?”
“If so, I’m down,” Phil called out.
She glared at both of them. Karla winked before turning back around.
“They had an opportunity to kill us and didn’t need an elaborate ruse to do so,” Ronin said. “I believe their story. It matches what Ava told us.”
“Your previous abductors also had ample opportunity to kill you,” she pointed out. “Instead, they drugged, chained and dragged you through Iom.”
Ronin’s jawline bunched as he clenched his teeth.
“Has it not occurred to you these guys have the same motives, they’re just going about it in a nice way?”
“Of course, it’s crossed my mind.” He glared at the path ahead of them. “Did it cross yours that we don’t really have a choice here? These two are not amateur hunters.”
No, they weren’t. They were trained killers. Their movement and posture gave away their skill more than any words could express. If they somehow missed or only injured them with arrows, they were armed with daggers and swords. Cora was good with her weapon but not that good. Ronin excelled with a sword, but how much fight could he put up, two against one with an arrow lodged in his chest? He might manage to cut them both down, but not before she was taken out and not before he sustained a lot of additional injuries. Then he’d probably bleed out.
She sighed and nodded, acknowledging his point.
“We may as well take the time to discuss something else,” Ronin said, stony expression fading away.
Oh no. That didn’t sound like a conversation she wanted to have. “And what’s that?”
“Your grip.”
Her grip? What the hell was he talking about? She hadn’t gripped—Oh.
Oh.
Instead of sputtering, she took a deep breath, relaxed her face, and turned to Ronin. His knee was within kicking distance. She’d strike there first. “Excuse me?”
His gaze twinkled with mischief. “How you hold the shaft is very important.”
Her mouth dropped open. She promptly shut it and glared. He hadn’t been complaining about how she held his shaft less than an hour ago. Instead, he’d thrown her up against the boulder to demonstrate just how pleasing he found her grip.
Her body pulsed with an unresolved aching need.
So not happening right now.
He chuckled and held his hands up in mock surrender. “Okay, shaft was the wrong word. Worth it. I love seeing fiery murder flash in your eyes. I meant your dagger hilt. I noticed you prefer the RGEO.”
“The RGEO.” Seriously? He wanted to discuss dagger grips?
“Yeah, it stands for reverse grip, edge out. It’s when the dagger is held—”
“I know what it is.” She stopped glaring at him and turned back to watching the king’s hunters leading their little procession. Straightening her spine in the saddle, she readjusted her wings. Her back muscles screamed, begging for a long stretch.
“And yes,” she said. “I use a reverse grip. So what? It ensures the cutting edge is always facing the enemy and reduces the chances of accidentally cutting myself. I’m not from the Eagle Clan, or the Hawks. My dagger is primarily for defence.”
Ronin nodded. “But it also gives you limited reach and if your attacker is directly in front of you, it limits your range of motion. You can’t make any…deep thrusting moves.”
Did he seriously go there? The ache between her legs screeched that yes, yes he did. She smothered a groan. “And deep thrusting is important?”
“It is to me.” His grin grew. “Especially for a frontal assault. I could demonstrate, if you want.”
She widened her eyes. “I don’t think I could handle a frontal assault from you.”
“I think we’ve already established you can handle me just fine.”
Dear bird lord, this innuendo was going to kill her. The memory of holding him in her hand flared up and made her throat dry. His mouth on her skin. His wicked tongue…
“Are we still talking about daggers?”
“Of course,” he said, completely unaware of the heat he stirred inside her. “I agree with your reasons for using the RGEO, but I think you would benefit from practicing the hammer grip.”
She squeezed her eyes shut briefly. The hammer grip was the most predominant dagger hold as well as the most instinctual. If she asked a random peasant from the Eyrie without any combat training to pick up a knife and come at her, nine out of ten times, the person would use the hammer grip, holding it like, well, a hammer.
Used more for offensive tactics, the forward grip allowed for greater reach and finesse. It also provided no subterfuge as it made the dagger and, therefore, the wielder’s intent, more visible. The other downside was an opponent could trap the arm easier since it extended past the body more.
Cora had quickly switched to the RGEO technique as it fit better with her needs. Ronin wasn’t wrong in his assessment though. Practicing dagger combat defence tactics with a hammer grip and switching grips would be beneficial and increase her ability to protect herself. Sometimes, the best defence was a great offence.
Of course, none of this came immediately to her mind when Ronin mentioned the hammer grip.
Nope. A different kind of hammer flooded her dirty mind and now her body pulsed harder with need.
Ronin drew his horse in closer. “I can still taste you.”
She stif
fened.
“And I want more.”
Ronin waited, his amused expression had faded to something else. As if he read her thoughts and sensed her reaction to his words, his gaze now smouldered. Ripping away some sort of internal security screen, he let her see his real emotions, the ones simmering, barely contained beneath his mask. He wanted her. He was thinking of her naked. Of how she tasted and turned to putty in his arms.
Ronin leaned toward her in his saddle, lust and naughty promises clouding his expression.
“You two need to stop that,” Karla barked out from ahead. “I can’t handle this kind of blatant sexuality.”
“Prude.” Phil snorted and then twisted around on his saddle to look at Cora. “If the two of you want to go at it, don’t let our presence stop you.”
Cora flipped him off.
Thunder streaked across Ronin’s face. He was now contemplating murder.
Phil turned to Ronin, ignored the promised rage in his expression and asked, “How exactly do sapavians do it?”
Was that a trick question? Did he think their anatomy was that different from humans? They shared a common ancestor. Some historians argued sapavians hadn’t diverged enough evolutionarily speaking and were still only a sub species of Homo sapiens. They theorized humans and sapavians could therefore interbreed and produce viable offspring.
Cora shuddered.
“I imagine the wings get in the way. Probably uncomfortable to lie down on them,” Karla said with surprising insight. “They probably do a lot of stuff from behind.”
Phil nodded but didn’t turn back around. Instead, he stayed twisted in his saddle and moved his gaze between Ronin and Cora. “So do you call it doggy style, too, or is it called birdy style?”
Cora smacked her face with her palm. Seriously. These were the professional killers the king of Iom sent after them?
Karla snorted and then proceeded to choke on her laughter.
Ronin shook his head but refused to answer.
Like hell she’d say anything.
Phil grinned like he said the wittiest thing known to humankind.
Boys.
Arriving at their destination—which may or may not result in their painful demise—couldn’t come soon enough.
29
“The best way to find out if you can trust somebody is to trust them.”
Ernest Hemingway
The fireplace crackled and snapped as the others gathered their supplies and set up around the camp. Ronin stood in the shadows and surveyed the site. It wasn’t the best location to defend, but not the worst, either.
Phil considered the current layout of the campsite and hesitated. When he threw his bedroll down beside Cora’s, Ronin chuckled.
Like Cora would put up with that.
Phil stepped over the soon-to-be-removed mat and approached Ronin. What did this hunter want? Instead of talking right away, Phil turned to stand by Ronin’s side to watch the campsite with him.
“I think we should have two on and two off tonight,” Phil said.
“Of course, you do.”
Though Ronin wanted a chance to speak with Cora privately, he’d take the opportunity to ensure her safety first.
Cora stomped around camp, saw Phil’s offensive bedroll and without missing a beat, moved hers to the other side of the fire.
Phil shook his head, a smile tugging at his lips. “Do all female sapavians look like her?”
Look like her? Is that all the hunter saw? Irritation stirred in Ronin. Of course, she was beautiful. Of course, others would notice. And of course, they wouldn’t pause to see how much more Cora offered than a striking face. “There’s no one quite like Cora.”
“Does she know?”
Ronin shifted his weight on his feet and crossed his arms. “Knowing Cora, no. And if you told her, she’d spend the next half an hour explaining how much of a turkey you were for even thinking it.”
That wasn’t entirely true. Cora was intelligent. She’d know she was attractive, but she wasn’t the stereotypical beauty and would write off any attention her looks garnered. She wasn’t the type to use her beauty as a weapon, nor would she drown in an inflated sense of entitlement. No. Not Coraline Cormorant. She’d clinically note her positive attributes and log them in her brain along with her flight times and boot size.
“A turkey?” Phil frowned. “Is that an insult to sapavians?”
“Would you like to be called a strutting bird with a small brain?”
Phil chuckled and shook his head. “Feisty thing. I like that.”
Ronin bit back a curse and clamped his mouth shut.
Phil studied him out of the corner of his eye, not because he attempted subtlety, more likely so he could keep his eyes on the campsite and Cora. “Don’t worry. I’m no competition to you.”
Ronin turned to him and glared. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Phil rocked back on his heels. “Sure you do. You have a thing for your bodyguard. Or is she a colleague? Some sort of princess? I’m not entirely sure what her role is in all this.”
“Her role is none of your business.” He had a thing for Cora. A large thing. A thing that got bigger every time he thought about her.
Phil’s knowing grin spread and he raised his eyebrows. Kingsman or not, if he kept flashing Ronin that smug expression, Ronin planned to punch him, and keep punching him until the look disappeared.
As if sensing Ronin had reached his limit for his bullshit, Phil shifted his attention back to the campground. The amusement fled from his expression and he straightened.
Cora stood a few feet away, hands on her hips and a scowl on her face.
Ah, didn’t hear her approaching, did you?
“There’s something I don’t understand,” she said.
Phil sighed and held his hands out to his side. “I know, but it’s true. I’m still single.”
The way Cora narrowed her eyes at Phil made Ronin smile. She wasn’t amused. And she certainly wasn’t falling for the other man’s charm.
Not that he was worried, or anything.
Maybe they’d have to flip a coin to see who got to punch him first.
“I don’t get how you made it around the river so fast,” Cora said.
Phil frowned. “What do you mean?”
Ronin’s brain scrambled to pick up what she was referring to as well. Where was she going with this? They were in the river when they heard Phil and Karla. As soon as the hunters left, they ran for shore, got dressed and made a run for it. They knew it was going to be close.
“It would’ve taken you at least ten minutes to get up to the bridge, cross it and make your way to our campsite,” Cora explained. “Yet you saw me shove my pants on and commented on my improvised dressing technique. Those pants were the first thing I threw on when I made it to shore and I know it didn’t take me ten minutes to get out of the river. How’d you make it around so fast?”
Phil still frowned. “We didn’t.”
Cora stilled. Her hand drifted to the hilt of her dagger. Though the sun had dipped below the treeline and encased their world in shadows, enough light streaked through the trees to illuminate the flash of understanding in her steely gaze.
There were two people unaccounted for, most likely two men, and they probably picked up their trail and followed, after they found Cora and Ronin’s empty campsite. They’d be less than ten minutes behind if they set off right away. The presence of the hunters would’ve held them back for a bit, but now they just had to wait for an opportunity.
He gripped his sword hilt. “We made camp about fifteen minutes ago,” he answered her unspoken question in a whisper.
Phil, for all his silly banter, wasn’t a simpleton. He must’ve figured out what Cora’s observations meant. He fluidly switched from easy going to serious, moving to a ready position, gaze alert.
Meanwhile, Karla, oblivious to their conversation, whistled and puttered around the campsite like a content fisherman’s wife waiting f
or the daily catch to come in.
A branch snapped. The three of them crouched and tensed scanning the trees. Without a word, Phil slipped away and disappeared into the shadows.
Ronin looked back at the campsite. Karla had disappeared as well.
Fuck. They were good.
He pulled his dagger and jerked his chin toward the trees. Though they stood near the treeline, they were still too exposed, and Cora had been shot with two too many arrows already. They needed more cover.
Cora didn’t argue. He appreciated that about her. She’d dig her heels in, bicker and argue, but she’d also choose her times. Now was not the time to disagree. She knew he had experience and training for this sort of situation, and she followed his lead.
Cora unsheathed her dagger and seamlessly flipped it into a reverse grip. The harpy winked at him when she passed, her wings smacking his face.
Little love taps.
She totally wanted him.
And he wanted nothing more than to grab her and give her a love tap of his own, but the timing was off. Way off. He needed to give his own head a shake.
He followed Cora into the darkening forest. She nodded at a deer trail to the right while she stepped onto another one leading to the left.
He didn’t want to leave her. He should be at her side to protect her. And if he ever voiced such foolishness to the accomplished messenger who faced sea monsters and thunderbirds, she’d stab him out of annoyance.
He nodded and took the other path. They moved slow and low, scanning the foliage and treeline, listening to the sounds of the forest, waiting for the men who must’ve followed them from the river to give themselves away.
Another branch snapped to his left.
And another.
Dirt crunched, branches swayed.
A man grunted.
Instead of running to the sounds and exposing his position, Ronin waited. He edged closer toward another trail that intersected with the one he was on. The forest was riddled with these little paths.
Quietly, he crouched by a large bush filled with waxy leaves and giant fragrant flowers.
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