by Linda Kage
I could only gape as she slowly pushed herself upright with wobbling weak arms and blinked around the scraggly excuse for a riverbank.
“What just happened?”
Her voice was hoarse. After the Coral Reef Killer had gouged out her windpipe and voice box, however, I was shocked she could speak at all.
“You…” I didn’t know how to tell her. So I didn’t. I didn’t want to scare her as much as it had scared me. “You fell in the water. Off the ferry.”
She veered her attention to me and frowned before gasping. Her hand went immediately to her throat. “The—that fish,” she said.
I nodded, confirming. “The river monster.”
“It stabbed me.” She kept checking her skin for a wound. “Right in the base of the neck. It hurt so bad. I swore I was dying.” When she found her flesh clear and undamaged, she tried to glance down at herself, and found the front of her dress matted with blood.
“It—it might’ve nicked you a little,” I said, my voice beginning to wobble. She’d know better once she caught a reflection of her face and saw that her mark had turned red. The tattoo turning from black to red must mean a person had died and was brought back. But she wouldn’t be able to see that for herself out here in the woods, so I bit my lip and kept the detail quiet.
Blinking at me slowly, Nicolette’s expression broke into a gleaming smile. “You kissed me better,” she guessed.
I couldn’t answer. I couldn’t handle the gratitude and love in her eyes, as if I’d saved her or something. This was all my damn fault to begin with.
“I should’ve made you take the jewelry off,” I started, growing unstable, “not just had you cover it up. Oh God. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
Losing it completely, I shook my head. Tears flooded my cheeks. Trembles seized my torso. And Nicolette saw it all. I couldn’t even turn away; I crumbled right in front of her.
“I’m sorry,” I wept, trying to pull myself together and failing, only whimpering more than I would’ve in the first place if I hadn’t tried to keep it all in. “I’m so damn sorry.”
“Oh, darling,” Nicolette cooed, opening her arms to me. “Don’t be sorry. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
But I had.
I knew I didn’t deserve her tenderness, yet I needed it.
I collapsed gratefully into her arms, letting her hug me as I buried my face in her hair and clutched her back.
“You were hurt because of me.”
Because I’d put her at risk. Every moment with me put her at risk.
“But I’m okay now,” she assured, stroking my hair. “Everything’s fine, Farrow. Don’t fret.”
I gathered her into my lap and rocked us back and forth, refusing to let up on my desperate, intense grip. “I almost lost you.”
I had lost her.
Another shudder wracked me.
She’d been gone, her life force drained.
I squeezed my eyes shut and petted her hair uncontrollably, still unable to believe she’d come back.
Thank you, I silently told whoever I needed to thank for granting me this reprieve. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
Nicolette shot me strange, concerned glances for the rest of the afternoon. Not that I blamed her. I was acting weird and being unreasonably dependent upon her, hovering close, reaching for her elbow if she moved too far away, always touching her hair or grasping her hand to hold it, leaning in to press my brow to hers.
But she didn’t complain, so I never let up, either.
Side by side, we gradually picked our way along the river’s edge, hoping our packs that the ferry master had tossed overboard would eventually wash ashore.
We found mine first, probably a mile downstream, and then Nicolette’s another two after that. But we didn’t recover everything. There’d still been plenty of supplies left on the ferry, still hanging from the backs of our horses, who were lost to us as well. Hopefully, the two palace guards would claim Mint and Caramel and return them to their stable.
Meanwhile, I considered it fortunate enough that we’d at least found the saddle bags. I counted my blessings all day long, in fact.
And Nicolette couldn’t seem to stop remarking on how sour our luck was. We’d lost our ride on the ferry, plus our horses; we’d have to walk from here on out. Our clothing and supplies were soaked completely through. Any food we’d had was ruined. Our everlasting flagon full of fresh water was given away, in the hands of the mages. It’d take three times longer to reach Blayton—maybe four days—not counting how we had to stop and lay out all our things to dry them, and my flint striker I had to start a quick campfire was one of the things we’d lost with the horses.
Our future looked bleaker than ever before.
And I couldn’t seem to care a whit.
My princess was alive. The rest we could handle. We would handle it. Together. I still had her with me; that was all I could seem to think mattered.
“Why the hell are you being so cavalier about this?” she finally exploded that evening as she sat across a small crackling fire from me. “I’ve never seen you treat our journey nonchalantly before. Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine.” Smiling tenderly over the flames at her, I said, “Would you believe that I’m simply coming to accept my fate?”
She paused, eyeing me carefully. “You mean a fate where we’re bound to be thwarted and delayed at every turn, or the fate that says you and I belong together?”
With a casual shrug, I gave her a cryptic non-answer and patted the open place on the log next to me. “Why don’t you come over here and sit? We can share body heat.”
She’d been cold and shivering a good portion of the day, as it had taken that long for our clothes to dry.
Nicolette stood immediately at the suggestion. As soon as she settled next to me, I slid over, getting closer until our thighs pressed together. My eyelashes fluttered as I leaned my face to the side, touching my temple to hers. When not even that was enough for me, I took her hand and interlaced our fingers.
Finally, a sigh escaped my lungs.
Better.
“Farrow?” Nicolette finally spoke into the quiet, cracking of the fire. “You’re scaring me. Why are you acting so…” She paused, searching for the correct word before coming up with, “Condemned?”
“Is that how I’m acting?” I asked, amused by the term. My thumb slid slowly over the knuckle of her thumb. “Because I’m feeling quite the opposite.”
She blinked at me curiously. “As if you’ve been—what—saved, then?”
I nodded. “Yes, exactly. I stared death in the eye and was granted a reprieve. I suppose that could put anyone in a grateful, contemplative mood.”
“I…” Tightening her fingers around mine, she hugged my hand against her chest and was suddenly the one pulling me closer. “I guess it didn’t occur to me how much mortal danger you were in today. You didn’t bat an eye when you were shot with that arrow or seem even marginally concerned when we found the mages invading our campsite. I just figured the thought of peril didn’t intimidate you.”
“Not my peril,” I corrected, lifting my mouth to kiss her temple before touching my tongue to her mark enough times to make it crackle against my lips. When I swallowed down the sparkling proof of our bond, I closed my eyes, keeping my face near hers. “It was your threat of dying I couldn’t stomach.”
Her breath caught. “My God.” With wide, hopeful eyes seeking mine, she blurted, “You’re going to say it, aren’t you?”
I wanted to. For the first time in my life, I wanted to verbalize the words and tell someone I loved them—where they actually heard me.
But the letters got clogged in my throat. I wasn’t sure how. I still hadn’t told her—I mean, she didn’t know the full extent of my story. It didn’t feel right to express my feelings now and put any kind of sway on her emotions toward me until there were no lies between us and she knew everything. She deserved to make up her mind about me with all th
e facts and a clear head.
Except I kind of never wanted her to discover the truth. I didn’t want her to see how dark and ugly it got inside me.
So, I didn’t say the words. But I still wanted her to experience them.
I wanted to show her just how deeply my devotion ran. Gazing into her eyes, I began by opening the window to my soul, letting her peer into me and see that no one had ever touched me the way she did.
I released a lungful and leaned in, pressing my brow to hers.
She touched my face and whispered my name. I shifted my mouth, gently brushing it across hers. Nicolette clung to my lips, urging me to continue. After a couple of soft, almost imperceptible pecks, she seemed to grow frustrated and bit my bottom lip. With a groan, I gave her more, sliding my tongue between her teeth and touching hers, making love to her mouth.
When our hands joined in, already straining with the need for more, we undressed each other leisurely, exploring and discovering everything the other had to offer. I realized I particularly liked the taste of her collarbone against my teeth. She learned that lapping at my nipples with her tongue was just as rewarding for both of us as it was when I did it to her. We both chuckled when we touched each other’s belly buttons.
And when I laid her down on the bedroll before coming over her, she opened to me with a warmth and possession that let me know I was home. I sank deep inside her, moving slowly so I could feel every inch. This was a savoring, because I had no idea what tomorrow would bring. I just knew for certain I had this moment, and I made it last.
By the time she broke and trembled in my arms, I was sweating and tense from holding myself back for as long as I could. Surging in deep, I buried my length in her tight womb, absorbed the shock of her tender convulsions, and released my orgasm into her care.
“That was all you,” she said when our bodies separated and calmed, growing lethargic as we rested beside each other. “Wasn’t it?”
Stroking my finger over her bare shoulder and down the soft inside of her arm, I purred, “Hmm?”
“You’re no longer under the influence of the aphrodisiac. I could tell the difference. You lay with me just now because you wanted to.”
“Mmm.” I pressed my mouth to the swell of her breast and inhaled the heavy scent of our lovemaking. “Clever girl.”
She preened, lifting her chin and grinning. Then she reached down and hugged my limp cock in her palm. “Well, I quite liked it. Yesterday was a mastery of sinful delights. You definitely ruined me for even being curious about other men. But today…” Humming with appreciation deep in her throat, she stroked me slowly but firmly until a muscle jumped down the length of my shaft, and I hardened once more in her grip. “You should always be all-you whenever we’re together.”
Smiling because she obviously desired another round and I was beyond willing to accommodate her, I rolled her on top of me with a growl of conquest and slotted her over my hips until my hardness nudged her wetness.
“As you wish, my lady.” Kissing her deeply, I arched up, impaling her.
We made love twice more before I passed out, exhausted, in her arms.
And when I woke, I was bound in chains.
Literally.
24
Nicolette
I continued to hold Farrow long after he fell asleep, running my fingers through his hair and pressing my lips to his temple. Occasionally, his arms would tighten around my waist and he’d draw me closer to him.
He shuddered once, and I murmured, “Shh. It’s okay. I’m here.”
Almost immediately, he settled.
I tipped my face against his and released a breath, wondering what he was dreaming about. Something today had really spooked him. I didn’t want to be vain and assume that almost losing me had made him realize how important I was becoming to him, but I kind of think that’s exactly what had happened.
“It’s okay,” I repeated softly. “You didn’t lose me. I’m right here.”
He relaxed even more. Closing my eyes, I did too, and I murmured, “I love you,” to his sleeping form.
He sighed in peace.
With a smile touching my lips, I let sleep claim me as well. Farrow had been right. No matter how much today had set us back, we were still alive and going forward. We were still together.
At the moment, that was all that mattered.
Drifting, I drew Farrow’s soothing scent into my nostrils and cuddled closer.
The darkness softened and shifted, a muted light gently washing it away. Then colors. Green, blue, a touch of bright pink. They formed shapes, flowers in grass, and an open meadow. Bright, cloudless blue sky.
I walked into the meadow, seeing a woman in white ahead, her dark hair flowing down her back. Gold guards, like the ones I owned, adorned her wrists.
When she turned, I was surprised to see myself standing before me.
“How are you here?” I wondered.
I—the other me—smiled with amusement, affection, and mischief lingering in my—her—eyes. “You didn’t bring me?” my copy countered.
“No.” Then I frowned. Had I brought her here? “I don’t think so. Maybe, but I’ve only ever been alone when I’ve come here in my dreams. To seek peace,” I explained.
The woman in white brightened. “I must bring you peace, then?”
I snorted, though I completely agreed. “You also bring me plenty of aggravation and headaches, my lady. I’ll probably go silver-headed before my thirtieth year because of you.”
She laughed and cupped my face. “And you’ll love every minute of it.”
“Aye,” I murmured, soaking closer. “I will.”
Before I could press my mouth to hers, however, she paused and looked up at me. “Farrow?” she said.
Realizing I was Farrow, I inclined my head. “Princess?”
Her eyes swirled with softness. “I wish to know you.”
“What do you want to know?” I asked, willing to give her anything.
“Everything,” she said. “Show me everything.”
For some reason, I wanted her to see just that. I wanted her to know.
Taking her hand, I nodded. “Come.”
When I turned to lead her into my—er, Farrow’s—story, we were no longer in the meadow. The me in white was gone. But I was still there, inside Farrow, seeing through his eyes and hearing through his ears.
Now, we stood in a bedroom. Red and gold velvet sheets draped the walls. Candles burned, displaying a woman on the bed, screaming out her agony. Two others assisted her, crouched around her bent knees, one holding her hand, their fingers slippery with blood, while the other knelt between her legs.
“Not much longer now,” the midwife delivering the baby crooned. “Almost there, dear. One more push.”
The panting woman thrashed her head. “No. I—I can’t.”
“Yes, you can. You will. Now, bear down. It’s almost over.”
The young mother eyed the midwife as if she’d lost her mind, even as she gritted her teeth and strained.
I could tell the moment she gave birth. Her relief in evacuating the child was so massive that she collapsed onto the bed, panting and sobbing prayers of thanksgiving.
When no cry of new life followed, I winced. That made the fourth lost during childbirth this year. Last time, it’d been the mother—not the infant—who’d died, but no one had been able to nourish the babe, so it had perished as well within a week.
“My baby?” the woman finally lifted her face to hoarsely rasp.
“Dead,” came the pitiless answer.
The mother began to weep, quiet heartfelt sobs.
One midwife wrapped the still, bloody child in a cloth and called, “Boy!”
I scrambled forward, ready to assist. “Ma’am?”
She shoved the bundle into my surprised arms. “Get rid of this,” she instructed. “The chit can’t take the distress of seeing it any longer.”
I gulped uneasily, blinking down at the lump. Blood seeped throug
h the cloth. But I said, “Y-yes, ma’am,” and hurried from the room. I darted down the hall toward the stairs, but another voice stalled me.
“Farrow?”
Recognizing the madam’s voice, I jarred to a halt. Madam owned the brothel. I wanted to remain in her good graces, as she’d kicked out a working lady and her daughter only last week for costing too much to feed anymore. Instinctively, I knew she’d do the same to me and my mother if I stopped being useful.
Respectfully giving her my attention, I turned back. “Ma’am?”
“Were you assisting with Mattie’s birthing just now?”
I nodded, hoping that wouldn’t get me into trouble for some reason. “Yes, ma’am.”
“And?” she prodded, lifting an expectant eyebrow.
Pity filled my chest. I held out the bundle in my arms, offering it to her. “The babe didn’t make it,” I reported. “What should I do with ’em?”
She reared back, wrinkling her nose in revulsion and turned her face to the side. “Dear Lord, throw it out with the rest of the scraps. I don’t care; just get it out of my face. I was inquiring about Mattie. Did the whore perish as well?”
I shook my head. “No, ma’am. She made it, or at least she was still alive when I left the room.”
The madam relaxed. “Good then.” She patted my head. “That’s a good boy, Farrow. Run along and get rid of that.” She motioned toward the dead child in my arms. “Then go visit your mother. She’s been asking for you.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I followed her orders and took the baby outside.
The scraps of food that didn’t get eaten in the brothel were always tossed to the pigs who lived out back in a pen. And then, the pigs would be eaten at the end of every year. But I didn’t like the idea of pigs eating the dead baby.
So I found a shovel in the barn and dug a hole under a tree. It took longer than I thought it should, and the hole ended up being shallower than I intended, but then I figured it was better than being eaten by a pig.