My sister’s grin deepens.
And, with a sinking feeling in my gut, I begin to understand.
Tahlia was always able to read me better than I could read her.
“Well, you know, if you're truly worried about this lady’s fate, dear knight,” Tahlia purrs, smiling at me knowingly, “you are free to accompany her—to make certain that she is treated fairly.”
I wince.
When we were kids, Tahlia and Bay and I used to race one another through the forest surrounding Fox Palace. We each took a different path to reach the designated ending point. In my desperation to win, to beat Tahlia, I would often loose my footing, trip on a tree root or stumble over a rock, and fall flat to the ground, effectively knocking all of the air out of my body.
Then, of course, Tahlia would win the race.
And that's how I feel now: as if I have no breath in my lungs, and no chance of besting my sister.
My face hardens.
Three years ago, I left the family, forfeited the Fox legacy, and my sister, for whatever reason, was displeased with my decision. Now she's using Cinda to blackmail me into going back with her. Back to Fox Palace.
Back to the life I gave up.
I stare at Tahlia, and she stares at me, waiting for my response to her “offer.”
But then I look to Cinda, pinned in place, a blade gleaming at her throat.
Her eyes are gem-bright with fury.
“Talis,” she forces out through gritted teeth. She takes a deep breath, and this draws the sword’s blade tighter against her throat, but she doesn’t even flinch.
“Don’t you dare go along with this highwaywoman—do you understand me?” Cinda huffs. “I’ll figure something out. I always do.” She lifts her chin resolutely. “I can get out of this.”
Tahlia barks out a laugh. “Oh, milady,” she whispers into Cinda’s ear, glancing at me darkly, “you’re not going anywhere.”
“Stop.” My hands are balled into fists at my sides. “Just…don’t harm her. I’ll come with you.”
A hushed wave of exclamations surge through the crowd.
“But, lady knight, this isn’t, uh...” the barkeep begins to protest, looking at Bay as she rounds the counter, hips swaying, the coins clinking loudly in the bag that hangs from her belt. “You’re going to stop them. Aren't you?”
My gaze flits around the tavern, taking in all of the people watching me, expecting me to right these wrongs and restore the peace. “I’m sorry.” My heart pangs. “I can’t allow these bandits to take a captive. I have to go with them—”
“But what about my money?” the barkeep moans.
“I’m sorry—”
“Let's go.” Tahlia jerks her head toward the door, and Yeri and Bay move swiftly toward it. It’s like watching a dance in reverse, the way the two of them dissolve through the now-open doorway. Cinda takes small steps backward as Tahlia drags her along, the sword still pressed to her throat.
“We’ll meet you at the Nymph Tree, knight,” my sister announces triumphantly, and then disappears from view. By the time I’ve run to the threshold, the thieves and Cinda are, of course, nowhere in sight. A Fox Queen is never seen if she doesn't choose to be.
I groan in frustration and race over to Rane and Cossie, both still tied to the hitching post.
“What was all that about?” Rane’s voice is curious but not especially concerned as I leap onto her back, pulling Cossie along by his reins.
“This is a disaster,” I mutter to myself, and urge Rane forward. She takes off at a brisk trot, but she angles her head, flicking her ears front and back, waiting for me to finish my thought. “We have to get out of the city, Rane. Fast. She took Cinda.”
“Who took Cinda?”
“My sister,” I tell the horse through gritted teeth.
Chapter 10
CINDA
To say that I’m annoyed might be an understatement.
In fact, I’m not annoyed.
I'm pissed.
“Unhand me right this minute!” I command the robber. I try to wiggle out of her grasp, but she's too strong; she grips my upper arm with immovable fingers. Before I can make a further attempt at escape, I realize that we're already out of view of the tavern—how did that happen so quickly?—and are getting farther and farther away from the magelights of the streets.
And farther and farther away from Talis.
“Come along, dear lady,” the woman clutching me purrs. She doesn’t so much speak as purr, I've noticed, like an overlarge cat in a perpetually good mood.
If I weren't in my current predicament, I might actually find this quality attractive. But I'm being kidnapped, so all of the woman's attractive traits are neutralized by the ass-like ones.
“Don’t worry—we won’t harm ye, lass,” comes a baritone voice beside me. I shift my gaze to take in the woman who had been guarding the door. She looks like what might happen if a hundred-year-old tree decided to become a person made of pure muscle.
Shrugging, she glances at me with her one good eye. “Go along ye must, but if ye go quietly, no harm will come to ye.”
“Let’s not make promises we can’t keep, Yeri. She’s already getting on my nerves, and we’ve only just become acquainted.”
I laugh humorlessly. “Sorry if my manners are a bit lacking, but I'm not fond of being kidnapped, you see.” I try to stomp on the thief's toes, but I’m wearing delicate slippers and, well, she’s wearing battle-ready boots.
She ignores my feeble attempts. “That knight you were with…” My captor's voice is careful, thoughtful as she shoves me into an alley. “Is she your lover?”
“What?” The question is so strange that I stumble over my own feet. “Why would you—” But then a hand comes over my mouth, muffling my words.
“Hush, now. We’re close to the wall.” As the robber breathes into my ear, I’m struck by the sensuous warmth of her breath; it smells like a spice I’ve never scented before… And, I assure you, I’ve scented most every spice in the land.
The scent is strong, hot, good, and there’s something about it that reminds me of the knight I just held between my thighs…
In vain, I try to struggle out of her grasp, because I’m not enjoying the fact that my body is responding to the devil-may-care attitude of this kidnapper. I am in no mood to be trifled with, regardless of how turned on I was before the robber interrupted my tumble.
Yes. That’s it.
I was turned on and wasn’t sated, and now I’m being whisked off into the night by an incredibly attractive highwaywoman who purrs into my ear like a cat in heat.
That would confuse anyone, surely.
“We’re close, Queenie,” the tree-like one, Yeri, murmurs. “What's your plan?”
“Oh, you know me,” the highwaywoman purrs in response, her voice a wicked smile. “I like to make things up as I go along.”
Yeri snorts. “You’re your mother’s daughter, rest her soul.”
“Rest her soul.”
Within a few more paces, the four of us reach the wall surrounding Arktos City; I had no idea how close the tavern was to the wall—a solid, imposing mass of stone that rises to meet the stars above it. I swallow, glancing backward now at the woman gripping my arm.
Her hold on me has lessened somewhat. This close to her, I’m able to make out details that were impossible to see in the dimly lit tavern.
Proximity is kind to her, and shows me a gorgeous woman.
She's...ferociously gorgeous. I would never have thought to use that description for any other lady, but it suits her, for ferocious, she is.
She has long chestnut hair falling in waves over her shoulders, a sumptuous mouth that smiles wryly and often, a body with curves that must tempt any eye, and a sharp blue gaze sparking with cleverness.
Her hands are long-fingered and firm, and, my goodness… There is something about her that reminds me of Talis, though I can’t quite place my finger on what that thing is. Maybe it has to do wit
h her bearing, or the line of her jaw...
She’s terribly attractive, to be blunt, and I hate that I’m so keenly aware of that fact.
“Please let me go.” I lick my lips, realizing suddenly that my mouth is as dry as dust. “I’m no good to you; you have to understand that. You can’t ransom me. There is no one to ransom me to.”
“She’s not ransoming ye, lass,” sighs Yeri quickly, her words soft and easy, but the woman gripping me glares daggers at her, and Yeri falls silent.
“We have no time for this. Yeri—the ladder.”
Yeri shrugs uncomfortably, but she waves her hand over a patch of the wall before us and—as if magicked out of thin air—a rope ladder appears, dangling limply against the stone.
Oh. I suppose it was magicked out of thin air. There’s a scent of fire in my nose, or—no, it's more like that little bit of smoke a spark makes when it touches the hem of your dress. Sharp and acrid, the scent of magic…
“Hurry,” the robber tells the third woman, the shorter one with the blonde hair, who ties her skirts to her belt and ascends the ladder at a dizzyingly fast pace.
“After you,” my captor purrs to me now, shoving me at the tangle of rope.
I stare up and up, hesitant.
“I… I’ve never been out of the city.” I wince, abashed by how meek I sound. Not that I should care what this devastatingly gorgeous highwaywoman thinks of me, granted. But, if the truth must be known, I’m not fond of heights. At all.
To my surprise, the robber's sharp gaze softens a bit as she peers at my face.
“Queenie.” Yeri leans close to her, her face deeply etched with worry. “You know we needn’t take her. Talis will come out to meet us all the same, and then ye can talk to her as ye wish. This lady needn’t be involved.”
For a long moment, the robber says nothing, staring up to see that the blonde woman has vanished from sight. “I’m afraid that I have no choice, Yeri. We don’t know for certain if Talis will come. And she must.”
I blink, confused. Why does she want Talis to meet with her? I could only catch snippets of their conversation in the tavern; my heart was beating so loudly in my ears, and, at times, the women's voices were pitched too low to hear. It did seem as if they were acquainted with one another... But I assume that knights and vagabonds cross paths rather frequently.
The highwaywoman turns to me, shaking her head briskly. “I’m sorry, but you have to climb. And now, before we’re spotted. We have lingered too long already.” Again, she pushes me toward the ladder—though, this time, she does so gently.
I stare at the rope rungs before me, hands fisted at my sides.
Resolve firms up inside of my chest.
It’s not just that I'm afraid of heights, you see.
This really wasn't the way I wished to leave my city for the first time. I've imagined it often—my grand adventure to experience the outside world—and in my imaginings, I was always seated in a tufted carriage, not accompanied by a band of thieves. As a kidnapping victim.
My frantic mind races. The woman released me so that I could climb: I'm no longer being held, no longer restrained...
So just like that, before I can second-guess myself, I turn, and I sprint down the other side of the alley, away from the ladder and the robbers.
Away, into the dark.
I don’t think either of the women was expecting me to run, so surprise might give me a slight edge. I'm not the fastest horse in the race, it's true, but don’t we always put our money on the one who has the hardest odds against her?
I run faster than I’ve ever run before…which is fairly fast, since I can’t remember the last time I moved at more than an anticipatory trot toward an oven full of cakes that needed pulling out.
However, within a few heartbeats, the robber woman looms in front of me, her cape flaring dramatically at her back as she regards me with a smirk.
I run smack-dab into her arms.
There is force on my side, and my running into her—however prepared she might have been for the impact—causes her to crash to the ground, with me pressed on top of her.
She’s a lovely thing to fall onto, if I do say so myself, and she breaks my fall nobly, though I can tell that I’ve knocked the breath from her. She looks at me, wincing, even as she wraps her arms about me, as tightly as any lover. My hair trails over her face.
“The last time a woman tumbled with me this hard, I was awarded a compliment,” she says dryly.
I can’t help it—my sense of humor is unbridled, and even though the moment isn’t appropriate for mirth…
I laugh.
The robber lifts her brows.
And then she’s chuckling, too.
I roll off of her, and she sits up on her heels, brushing at her backside. Her cape was muddied, as we fell into a puddle, and it's now far too weighted down for theatrics, but it tries its best as the woman smoothly rises to her feet and offers me a hand.
“There now, let’s not be hasty, dear lady. The women I’ve kidnapped before quite enjoyed their stays at my palace. I promise you—you’re not headed to any dungeon.” Her voice is a soft, low tenor, and her head, with its shining mahogany mane, is cocked invitingly in my direction.
“But…you’re taking me against my will.” I’m still crouching on the ground at her feet, my red skirt flared about me, and I’m trying to weigh my options. If I ran again, how far might I get?
Far enough to call for help?
I clear my throat, state the obvious: “Like most folks, I'm averse to kidnapping.”
The woman's eyes darken with exasperation, and she’s about to say something in response, but then there’s a sound from somewhere distant, perhaps a few streets away.
The robber lifts her chin; her eyes narrow shrewdly.
I’m certain that we’re both thinking the same thing right now. If I screamed at the top of my lungs, whoever-it-is would hear me. Soon enough, knights would come riding in, and I’d be saved within a matter of hoof beats.
Why, then, don’t I scream?
Is it, perhaps, because something this exciting has never happened to me in all of my days?
Is it, perhaps, because I feel that there’s nothing to fear from this woman? That I could get out of this situation if I truly wanted to escape?
I...don’t want to escape.
I want adventure.
I want something more than my mediocre, painfully practical life.
Even if it promises danger, adventure is staring down at me—with piercing blue eyes that are...oddly familiar.
I find myself unable to look away.
Yes, I could use my goddess-given set of pipes and shout until I go hoarse.
But I’m willing to give this highwaywoman—with that glint of kindness in her gaze—the benefit of the doubt.
Besides, the deepest truth of all is this: I trust Talis to find me.
Yes, I’ve only known Talis for a short time. We weren't even able to get acquainted in that most lovely of ways... But there was something so earnest about her. Unlike Asla, she seemed to be the very definition of a knight: honorable, gracious, loyal to a fault.
I trust her, down to my marrow.
She is going to come for me.
And that is going to be so exciting.
I wouldn't miss it for the world.
So, shocked by myself, I put my hand in that of the robber, and we stare at one another for a long moment. Slowly, by degrees, her lips turn up at the corners, as if she knows that I’ve come to accept my role in her scheme. She draws me to my feet and gives me an approving nod.
“We mustn't use that ugly word again: kidnapping,” she purrs. “Think of me as your humble escort, dear lady.” She wraps an arm around my waist, and I feel the muscles of her arm flex against me. My heart flutters...but then I remember another woman who made my heart flutter tonight: Talis, with her knee-weakening smiles, her searing blue eyes, her hot, hungry mouth...
Sighing deeply, I raise a brow and pla
ce my hands against the woman's chest in a very clear demonstration of no.
“I trust that Talis will come to my aid,” I say shortly, lifting my nose to the air.
“Ah. Talis. Your shining knight.” And she actually rolls her eyes. Then she removes her arm from my waist and stands apart from me, unsmiling. “Let’s move on, shall we? We haven't the time to chat.”
“But what am I to call you? Who are you?” I follow after her, staring with trepidation at that confounded ladder.
“Didn’t you hear the tavern ladies whispering my name?”
“No.” In truth, I may have heard something, but I was so tense and agitated, I forgot just as quickly.
“I'm afraid I'm not used to introducing myself.” She gives me a good-natured smile, though there’s a hint of wickedness to it. Still grinning, she bends forward at the waist and snatches up my hand, dusting a kiss over the knuckles. “Fair lady,” she drawls, her voice low, her breath hot against the back of my hand, “you are in the presence of the Fox Queen, Tahlia.”
“Fox…Queen…” I squint, considering the words.
Yes, I know of her. In passing. Her likeness and name have appeared on “Wanted!” signs tacked to the walls of the Steel Lily. Apparently, she is wanted for crimes against queen and country, though I must say, that drawing of her looks nothing like her at all... I have noticed that, often, there are pen-and-ink scrawls made by tavern patrons on the signs, most of them lewd in nature—accompanied by the addresses of the graffiti artists (with rather explicit invitations for the Fox Queen to come and steal anything she might want from them).
Ahem.
Right. So, the Fox Queen has the reputation of being a heartbreaker and is called, by some, the sexiest woman in Arktos—though this would, of course, be hotly debated amongst the Arktos Knights’ many, many admirers.
Besides, reputations aren’t necessarily true.
And as I peer down at the woman bending prettily at the waist, I find the sight of her to be as lovely as a painting: a painting that I can admire, appreciate—but feel nothing for.
Talis, on the other hand...
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