Just One Knight

by Bridget Essex

  “You’re all right,” I tell her, patting her shoulder and helping her stand. She immediately leans to the left, and then sits in an upright chair (its table has been flattened, as well as the other chairs that were pulled up to it, from someone using them to break their fall), and the fair folk looks down at her hands and sighs before falling backward onto the chair, unconscious.

  I breathe out in relief, and then I glance around me. Most of the fighting seems to have lessened, and now…

  Well, now there’s just the fire in the dry-as-a-bone tree to contend with.

  “Ladies,” I say, racing up to the pool of mermaids. “Is there any way—”

  They all snort.

  “Talis, dear, we’re already on it—you’d better help get the last of the people out, though, so we can do our thing.” I get a few winks, and then I nod, winking back, too, glad of them.

  I move back over to the fair folk and hoist her up to drape over my shoulder. Almost everyone has cleared out of the tavern now, except for Rowan, who’s staring at the flames with her arms crossed in front of her in annoyance, a brow raised to the skies.

  “There’s going to be a reckoning, my dear—did you or your sister have anything to do with this?” she asks me, pinning me to the spot with a lightning-sharp gaze.

  “Don’t we usually?” I groan.

  Outside, people are patting smoke from their outfits, laughing together in relief…some of them are kissing quite passionately. And there, in the very center of the meadow, are Lellie, Fane and Tahlia with horse and donkey.

  But Cinda is not to be seen.

  I set the fair folk down on the ground next to the still-unconscious giantess. I cross the space between us, and I look from one lady to the other, brows up, blood beginning to pump through me a little quicker.

  “Where’s Cinda?” I ask them.

  Tahlia glances back at me, and she raises her brows, too, a look of worry passing quickly over her features. “We…thought she was with you?”

  “Oh, for the love of all that’s decent…you’re supposed to be watching her.”

  “Me?” my sister sounds outraged as she snorts.

  “May I remind you that you kidnapped her?” I growl.

  She shrugs a little uncomfortably. “Ah…point taken. But isn’t that your lovely lady right over there? Safe? Unharmed? Saving…someone else, apparently?”

  I turn around, and…right as rain…there she is. Cinda. And she is, indeed, in the middle of saving someone else. Cinda is dragging out a woman who apparently got knocked unconscious in the fight, her head lolling against her shoulders as Cinda pulls her up the remaining steps and out of the tree.

  Cinda continues to drag the woman a good ways from the tree where she sets her down gently against the grass. She straightens up, her hands at the small of her back, and then she stretches overhead—until she spots me.

  Cinda turns, and her face is radiant…dazzling, really. She moves over to me, and then she’s wrapping her arms around me, and it’s Cinda who sweeps me off my feet, Cinda who kisses me passionately, her mouth curved up in a smile, and so sweet and kissable.

  I’m laughing against her as she lets me go, patting smoke out of the front of her dress, and then her hair as she chuckles at me, too.

  “It…seems that you had things under control,” I tell her quietly, eyeing the woman she rescued. Cinda’s smile is so bright that it would eclipse the sun if it could.

  “I found her on the way out—the mermaids have things under control, really, but I thought I should help. So I did.” When she looks up at me, her eyes are twinkling. And then she wraps her arms around my neck again, and she stands on her tiptoes. “Oh, Talis—this night has been so fun so far.”

  “Even the kidnapping?” I ask her, brows raised, and she wrinkles her nose.

  “Well, I might have done without that. But…I mean you. Adventuring with you. It’s been wonderful.” She looks up at me, and something indescribable passes over her face.

  But, whatever it is…it’s beautiful.

  “Ah…well. I was going to ask you about that.” My throat tightens as I look down at her, as I gaze down into that beautiful face, and my worry from a few moments ago—wondering if she was still in the burning tree—comes back, bright and fierce. Anything could happen, where we’re going. She’s not going to be safe. I lick my lips. “Are you sure…I mean, do you really want to come with us? To Bright Coast?”

  “And why not?” she asks, straightening up. She doesn’t let go of me, but her arms around my neck have gotten a lot stiffer as she gazes up at me mystified. “I’m welcome to come with you, aren’t I?”

  “Oh…you’re always welcome. So welcome,” I murmur, and it’s almost as if—of their own accord—my hands are wrapping gently around her waist. I want to tell her so much, in this moment, how watching her drag that woman from the burning tree was amazing. How she is amazing. But I try to quell all of my feelings, rising inside of me. I try to stick to the facts. “It’s just…it’s going to be dangerous.” I search her face. “So dangerous. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

  A sly smile comes across Cinda’s face at that, and she shakes her head. “Believe it or not, my dear knight, this is the most exciting night of my life. I’m…really enjoying this. And I don’t want it to end. Not yet. I want to go with you. If you’ll have me.”

  Oh, how I want to have her. But I nod, my throat tight, and I wrap my hands even tighter at her waist, her arms at my neck, and linked tightly as we are, I kiss her.

  And the kiss blazes through both of us, hotter than the fire.

  Chapter 14

  CINDA

  “I’m not an exceptionally big fan of heights.”

  Fane looks at me stolidly before giving me a big, toothy grin. “Well, then. Just don’t look down!”

  “That’s…unhelpful.”

  “I do my best.”

  “Unhelpful, Fane. Unhelpful.”

  “Ah, well…I said I do my best. I don’t get it right all the time. I’m only perfect in bed.”

  Her words are so surprising that every single one of us present laughs, and Fane is laughing, too, tilting her head back, her black hair sweeping over her bare shoulders. She’s taken off her shirt at this point, and has folded it neatly, with quite crisp lines, and handed it to Tahlia. Fane’s only wearing her dark black pants, her leather shoes and a slim breastband now, and she turns, her chin up, and strides into the forest, expecting the rest of us to follow her.

  And we do, leaving the smoking Nymph Tree and the rest of the women behind us. I saw Tahlia speaking to her seconds, Yeri and Bay, and they disappeared into the dark.

  So it’s just us.

  Talis is gripping the reins of both Rane and the donkey, Cossie, and I assume she’s going to tie them to one of the hitching posts out front of the Nymph Tree until we get back, or…really. I’m not quite sure what I assumed.

  But I know one thing, surely: we’re not taking the two animals with us.

  Until…we are.

  “Wait, wait…they’re coming with us? How in the world is this going to work?” I ask Talis as we set out through the woods, following Fane, Lellie, Tahlia, Talis and me…and the two mounts.

  Talis glances back at me with raised brows, as if she’s not sure what I’m asking, so I spell it out plainly, gesturing to the donkey and mare. “We’re…we’re taking the mounts with us?”

  “Oh, of course. We can’t leave them behind. This is a knight’s warrior mare…and this is Cossie.” She affectionately pats the donkey’s very furry neck, and he glances at me smugly. “Fury Wood isn’t especially safe at night, even for someone hardened by battle. And it’s certainly not safe for a donkey. Someone could eat him.”

  I glance at Cossie who’s still looking smug, and I wonder if that might not be the worst thing in the world, since I’m fairly certain the beast tried to kill me…but I decide that this is an uncharitable thought, and—feeling a little bad about it—I reach out and try to pe
t the donkey.

  But he bites me first, chomping down quite hard on my fingers. I wrangle my hand out of his mouth and glare daggers at the beast, but he simply trots a little faster to stride alongside Talis. I sigh.

  “And your mare?” I ask Lellie. Lellie smiles and shakes her head at me.

  “She’s gone home by now for her mash, I’m sure. She didn’t get supper, and is a bit headstrong about it.”

  I blink, but accept this. “But…how is Fane going to carry all of us, and the beasts besides?”

  Fane circles back, practically bounding over to us with a wide grin. “Did I hear my name being mentioned? Are you talking about how ruggedly beautiful I am and how you very much wish that—”

  “No, Fane,” both Talis and I groan at the same time, and then we glance at one another, and we’re laughing.

  “Because most women in my presence—”

  “Roll their eyes at your boasts,” says Lellie, raising a brow. She doesn’t look at Fane at all when the Draco glances her way, and then Fane’s grin deepens even further—which I didn’t think possible.

  “I like her,” purrs Fane, and then she says it again, a little louder and with a touch more enthusiasm, throwing her arms wide. “I like her.”

  I don’t think Lellie can help it—she’s returning the grin, though it’s a bit more rueful as she shakes her head, drawing her cloak closer about her to keep out the night chill. “Fane, to be fair, Cinda has a point—have you ever carried this many people plus two mounts before? It’s a lot of weight to take such a distance.”

  Fane shrugs, rolling her shoulders. The muscles that stand out very clearly beneath her skin practically ripple. “You’re all going to be in the carrier, so I don’t think it’ll matter. It’s built for big loads, I’ll be fine.”

  “A carrier?” I ask, but Fane nods, gesturing ahead.

  “It’s just up here. Come see for yourself.”

  We move through a large gap between two trees, and then the magelamp that Tahlia carries illuminates a sprawling clearing. There’s meadowland, spreading out before us, with several flowers on tall stalks, their petals closed up tightly for the evening, waving in the soft breeze from the woods.

  And at the top of the slight hill, in the very center of a clearing…

  Well, to be frank, it looks like an enormous egg-gathering basket.

  For very, very enormous chickens.

  I stare at the basket, and then I glance sidelong at Talis, who’s gripping the mounts’ reins a bit tighter now, her jaw clenched, and I look to Tahlia, too, who has her brows raised, her mouth open.

  “Fane, when you told me you had a carrier, I just assumed that, well…it was a bit.” Tahlia purses her lips. “Sturdier?” She gestures to the basket. It looks to be made of thin saplings that have been soaked in water and bent around slightly thicker saplings—but, thicker saplings or no, the whole thing looks like it was made to carry flowers.

  Not people.

  And certainly not people up into the air. Very high up into the air, I should add.

  “It’s as sturdy as my mother,” scoffs Fane, shaking her head, but when she glances over her shoulder at the rest of us, she pulls herself up short, perplexed. “Wait…don’t tell me you’re backing out! I’m serious, Tahlia, this thing, it’s perfectly safe! Why, you can’t put a dent in it!” And Fane walks up to the basket’s side—it comes up to about waist-height on her—and she reaches out, grasps the edge of the basket, and shakes it.

  A handful of twigs break off in her hands, and the top layer of twigs around the edge of the basket unravels, just a little.

  We all stare, our mouths open.

  “Huh,” says Fane, squatting down beside the thing and peering at the brim of it in the low light of the magelamp. “Well, that’s never happened before.”

  “Reassuring.” Lellie crosses her arms in front of her. “This is such a fool idea…Tahlia, if you really want Talis to bond with you again in sisterhood, or whatever you assume will come of this—”

  Tahlia turns and glares daggers at the knight. “You’re wrong. This is so much more important than that. It’s our mother’s last, dying wish—”

  “It wasn’t her dying wish, Tahlia,” says Talis quietly, but Tahlia keeps speaking, passion sharpening her words.

  “You are very free not to come with us, knight.” Tahlia bites off each word as Lellie frowns, “but my sister and I have unfinished business to attend to.”

  “I’m not saying to give it up on it.” Lellie’s tone softens as she raises her hands in appeasement. Perhaps it’s because Tahlia is Talis’s sister, but Lellie is being very gentle with her. “But you both could go to Bright Coast together like sensible women. You could ride your mounts there, take your time and don’t take such chances as this.” She waves to the extra-large basket and grimaces. “You could—” but even as she’s speaking, she trails off, glancing to Talis.

  Talis is gripping the reins even tighter in her hand, now, like she’s a drowning woman, and the bits of leather are her only link to safety. She shakes her head, ever so slightly, and leans forward, putting her gloved hand at her fellow knight’s elbow.

  And then she murmurs something into Lellie’s ear.

  And Lellie pales.

  “Of course. Never mind. Yes, this all has to happen tonight. You’re right.” Lellie stands a little straighter and shakes out her shoulders. “Well, what do we have to do to make this carrier…a bit sturdier?”

  “I’m telling you.” Fane shakes her head as she rises, rubbing at one of her shoulders as if she’s trying to work out a kink in her muscles. “This thing is sturdy! That bit that broke off…it’s just a fluke. It’s fine, ladies. It’ll take you where you need to go.”

  “But the mounts are so heavy—” murmurs Lellie, but Fane shakes it off.

  “This’ll hold everything! You, the horses. It’ll be fine! Get on in! The night’s not getting any younger, but then neither are we, eh?” She reaches out and claps Lellie on the shoulder, and the force of that bit of camaraderie would probably make a lesser woman stagger forward. But this is Lellie, and even though Fane is powerful, very powerful, Lellie doesn’t move a muscle. She simply absorbs the blow and gives Fane a scornful look.

  “Get on in,” Fane repeats, gesturing to the carrier with a wide smile.

  As I mentioned, the carrier looks like an enormous basket with shallow sides—the walls of the basket only come up to Fane’s waist-height. The “handle” of the basket is very tall and rounded only a little at the top, so it almost looks square, and it rises above us, at least the height of two horses above our heads. There’s some sort of material wound around the very middle of the basket’s handle, and from down here, it looks like thick leather, bound around and around the twigs and saplings.

  Apart from that, there’s no ornamentation to the basket at all. There’s a sort of “gate” in the middle of the front of the basket that’s latched with a very crudely carved bit of wood, one you simply lift up, and then set back down between two other pieces of wood.

  What I’m saying is that a toddler could open that with a sneeze. There’s no sort of lock to keep the “gate” closed while we’re in the air.

  Well. This is fine.

  Except it isn’t at all.

  But we’re heading into the basket anyway.

  “Lift your feet, Rane, there’s a good girl,” murmurs Talis, leading the warrior mare into the carrier. The mare steps very gingerly over the lip of the gate, and she’s swishing her tail in annoyance—you don’t need to speak Horse to realize that she very, very much doesn’t trust this. The donkey Cossie, on the other hand, trots right on into the basket, swishing his tail happily, and aiming for the far “wall.”

  He reaches out and takes a big bite out of the top row of twigs.

  “Uh…that doesn’t seem like a good idea.” Lellie waves at the donkey merrily chewing away at the basket. Talis sighs and speaks in low tones to the little creature, and that’s when he starts to get
annoyed. But he does listen to her.

  The problem—and there are a lot of problems with the situation, but perhaps the most pressing one—is that whenever Rane and Cossie take a step in the basket, the twigs and saplings creak dolefully beneath their hooves. Their bodyweight is pressing down on those hooves, the whole weight of each animal, and their hooves could easily make holes in the material of the carrier. And that could, of course, plunge all of us to our deaths.

  Which is not exactly the way I wanted to spend the evening: dead.

  I think Talis realizes this the same moment I do, because she coaxes Rane into a bow, and then slowly down until the mare is lying on the floor of the carrier. She asks Cossie to do the same thing, but he brays unhappily before obliging.

  At least both animals are down now. Not that this makes me trust the basket, but I feel at least a tiny, tiny bit safer.

  “All right. All settled?” asks Fane, peering over the edge of the basket, her smile as sunny as sunshine itself. “Good, good. All comfy?”

  “Comfy?” asks Lellie, her head to the side from her position, seated regally on the edge of the carrier. She raises a brow and her lips twitch at the sides, but she doesn’t smile. “Why, this is the most comfortable I’ve ever been.”

  “You, lady knight, are cheeky. And I love a cheeky woman,” breathes Fane, leaning on the edge of the carrier, too, one brow waggling with obvious flirtation.

  “I love completing a quest that is literally years in the making,” says Tahlia with a little cough. Fane groans, but pushes off from the edge of the basket.

  “Well, then, there’s no time to waste, I suppose. Here, you’re in charge of these—I’ll need them when we land.” Fane’s tone is casual before she takes off her pants, rolling them down in one, smooth motion, and her knickers, too, sliding the breastband over her broad shoulders and off completely.

  And then Fane is as naked as winter.

  But with much more heat.

  The woman is muscular, which might be the first thing you notice, but it is, in fact, not, because her face is what draws you in. She’s wearing a wicked grin, as if she’s proud of her body and very much doesn’t mind showing it off. She turns a little, accentuating her profile with a deepening smile, and then she tilts her chin down toward the ground. It’s only a heartbeat or two of that gorgeous physique in front of me, the rippling muscles of her shoulders, her arms, her thighs and calves, the embedded stomach that looks like it might be hard to the touch if one ran fingers across that bare, delicious skin. I mean, my goodness. She looks scrumptious.