by Terry Spear
The door shut and the key twisted in the keyhole, locking them in. Then the sole chair creaked. A faint light came on near the metal bathing tub, though she could only see the hazy illumination through the blue linen curtains.
Boots fell on the floor, a belt, pistol, all with a resounding clunk. It had to be Creshion.
Anything else he had to have removed didn"t make a sound. But when the water in the tub splashed, and he let out a sigh, she realized he was taking a bath.
She wanted to tell him he couldn"t be naked in the tub, not in her presence. But she held her tongue, hoping he"d believe she was sound asleep, wouldn"t disturb her, and decide to make a bed for himself on the floor.
After he finished bathing, he pulled the bed curtains aside and yanked the covers back so he could climb into bed wearing only breeches!
“You are not a gentleman,” she said, her words sounding soft to her ears when she meant them to be harsh.
“I thought you were asleep. I did have another offer,” he admitted, climbing onto the mattress.
Her ire was instantly stoked. “Why did you not go to her bed then?”
He paused, then smiled. “I had to ensure you did not intend mischief. Besides, you are my wife, to all concerned. How would it look if I spent the eve with someone else?”
“Like we had a lovers" quarrel. Which we have. Well, except for the lovers" part.”
“I most gallantly offered to share the bed with you. I promise not to steal too many of the covers. Beyond that?” He shrugged, giving her the most wicked of smiles.
When she didn"t move from the bed, he pulled the covers up to his chest.
The bed was way too small. Perfect for lovers. Which they were not. And would never be. She quickly climbed out of bed.
“All right, have it your way.” He turned on his side and closed his eyes.
She stared at his backside partly buried under the covers, and took the blanket and spare pillow. Having no other choice as she wasn"t sleeping next to Creshion no matter what, she made a bed for herself on the floor.
“No one would ever have been the wiser,” Creshion said, jerking the curtains closed.
She stared at the closed curtains hanging around the bed, unable to see Creshion. “Except for all those in the tavern tonight,” she said caustically.
“Aye, and they will assume we slept together anyway.”
Did he want to sleep with her because he truly wanted to? Or was his conscience bothering him that she was sleeping on the floor because he wouldn"t take her place there?
Neither said a word for some time as she tried to get comfortable on the hard wooden floor. One thin blanket didn"t make a difference and because of how sore she was from riding all day, she truly would have loved sleeping on the bed.
“How much ale did you drink?” he asked, sounding amused.
Too much, she thought, as her head felt way too fuzzy. She didn"t move with her usual agility, though that had something to do with the hard long ride they"d had today.
“Too much, I suspect,” he said, the smile still in his voice.
“Don"t you ever say I can"t eat any meat because it would make me more cantankerous,”
she growled.
He laughed. “I guess too much ale will have the same affect.” He was silent for some time, then finally asked, “Are you afraid of me?”
Her hackles rose instantly. “Of course not. I"m a master assassin. Why would you think I would fear you?”
“You are a woman.”
She didn"t have a thing to say about that. Because the fact of the matter was he did intimidate her. She could fight the notion all she wanted, but what if he started to kiss her? And what if she wanted him to? And…it went beyond kissing?
That"s why he should be sleeping on the floor, and she should be in the bed.
Chapter 8
Two hours before first light, the dark still cloaking the tavern and village, Creshion lifted his sleeping stubborn angel assassin off the floor and placed her in the bed where he"d pulled the covers back for her. Then he recovered her and studied her as she snuggled under the covers deeper. She sighed like a kitten that had found a cozy pillow to sleep on by the fire. He should have moved her to the bed earlier, though he"d been so tired, nothing would have awakened him until now. The fault was her own for being so stubborn.
He pulled the curtains closed to keep the chilly drafty air from the bed and dressed.
After leaving the room and locking the door, he headed below stairs to order breakfast, allowing the lady to sleep an hour longer, then they would be on their way.
He had hoped his brother and cousin would not be up this early, but they both waved mugs of ale at him as they sat at one of the tables when he descended the stairs.
“You never get up this early,” he said to his brother Tarn and to his cousin Eaton.
Both Eaton and Tarn looked immensely pleased with themselves for having beaten Creshion to the dining hall before he arrived, ensuring they got to see him before he left without a word to them.
“Is the lady still sleeping?” Tarn asked, sliding a look Eaton"s way.
“She is.”
“You did not think to leave on your own, did you?” Tarn asked. He spread his hands wide. “We will travel with you back to Salamain. It would be safer if we stay together.”
“Behind us. Out of sight,” Creshion said. “I don"t want the two of you scaring the woman off.”
“Scaring her off?” Tarn said, sounding highly amused. “Us? Why if anything, the lady would feel safer with us around.”
“Out of sight,” Creshion repeated.
But the expressions on his brother and cousin"s faces showed they were well pleased he would grant them even that concession.
Without speaking another word, they ate their porridge and sausage links.
Creshion glanced around the tavern at the small number of early risers eating their morning meal and thought he saw one of Queen Quinnette"s spies sitting at a table near the back of the room, mostly hidden in shadows.
“Is that who I think it is?” Creshion asked, tilting his head slightly in the direction of the cloaked man, who at the moment was looking out the tavern window.
“Hmm, yes, well, he"s been looking for you, as have we. You know how our uncle worries that if you come to harm, I will have to take your place.” Tarn gave him a warm smile.
“And you know how ill-suited I am to becoming the king of the cobra fae should our uncle die and you were no longer with us. I just am not as ruthless as you.”
“As the second-born son you haven"t had to be,” Creshion said dryly. “But if you had to take on the role, you would do better than fine in my place. It is in the blood.”
And he meant every word of it. Whenever Tarn had to be in charge, he did an outstanding job of it. Tarn just never liked to admit it.
Creshion again considered the queen"s spy, his dark features mostly hidden.
The fact a spy would be tailing Creshion didn"t matter. They often tried to learn his whereabouts although Creshion often was able to escape their detection.
He didn"t worry about the man, not unless he suddenly disappeared. Which meant he would travel ahead to tell the queen that Creshion had some unknown female fae in tow.
And that did not bode well.
***
Once Sessily had eaten—Creshion had ensured she was served sausage with her porridge in the guestroom—they packed and journeyed on the road again toward Salamain while his brother and cousin kept to their word and stayed out of sight.
He noted how quiet Sessily was and though it shouldn"t have mattered, her silence meant something was wrong, and he was bothered by it.
“Is there anything troubling you, my lady?” He didn"t want to assume anything where the lady was concerned any further—women were so much more unreasonable than men and so much more difficult to figure out—but he thought maybe she was tired from sleeping on the hard floor all night long.
“Ot
her than you stealing me away from my castle and trying to force me to do a job without my express acceptance and on my terms, or parading me around a tavern, declaring me to be your wife, or forcing me to sleep on a rock-hard floor all night?” She cast him a dark look, the gold encircling her eyes sparking with temper.
He smiled. “Ah, that is all the matter. You did not get enough sleep then.”
She snorted.
He chuckled, glad it wasn"t anything of real consequence. “All of this is your own fault.”
“My fault?” She was not asking a question, but rather condemning him with her shrill statement.
She cast him the most glacial look that could have frozen him into an ice statue if she"d had that ability. Which made him wonder again just what she had done to make the vine he"d wrapped around her fall limply to the floor of her sitting room. If she hadn"t been afraid of never getting her fae travel restored, she looked like she could do the same to him as she did to his vine.
“"Tis true,” he insisted. “You were the one who refused to come with me on a job that your guild master set before you. You were the one who refused to be reasonable and sleep in the bed last night also.”
“You were the one who was unreasonable, sir!” she said, hotly. “You could have slept on the floor! Or with the woman who had propositioned you!”
Was he mistaken in thinking Sessily was jealous? No, rather she had to be irritated that he hadn"t slept with the other woman so Sessily could have had free reign of the bed he"d paid for.
“My coin. My bed. Which you were welcome to.”
They continued for some time not speaking to each other, which bothered him more than he cared to examine. What was it about the woman that got under his skin to such an extent?
With anyone else, like his brother when he was annoyed with Creshion, he would have let Tarn stew about whatever grudge he was holding against Creshion, then eventually Tarn would forgive him. But with Sessily, Creshion was having the worst time letting go of his need to fix things between them, such as they were.
It just wasn"t something he felt he should have to do.
Still, he swallowed his need to allow her to concede to him and finally said, “I will cure Master Travis of his heart ailment, no matter the outcome of your mission.”
He hadn"t meant to tell her thus so early in the game. He"d already cured the man of his heart disease—cleaning the arteries with the utmost finesse and repairing the damaged arteries.
The man"s heart was almost good as new. Creshion had done so in the event neither he nor Sessily lived once she attempted to assassinate the queen. One of the reasons for saving the man"s life was that her staff believed that because he had cured Master Travis, Sessily was going with Creshion of her own free will to accomplish the mission. They thought Creshion had fulfilled his part of the bargain, and now Sessily was bound to do what she did best—eliminate some foul fae.
Not that he expected her to assassinate the queen alone. He fully intended to use her as a diversion. But even then, he was rethinking the whole plan. Sessily"s staff depended upon her.
No one depended on Creshion. If he were to die, his brother would take his place.
He saw the way she treated her staff as family. He admired her for that. If she wasn"t there to pay the bills or didn"t live to keep her title, the land and castle would be forfeited to the Denkar crown, and the people living at her castle could very easily be forced to leave. Then where would they go? To separate estates? They were like a family, from what he"d seen.
When Sessily didn"t respond to his comment about Master Travis, he thought she must not have heard him. “Sessily, I will cure Master Travis no matter the outcome at Salamain.”
He thought he heard her bite back a sob. He frowned. The notion was supposed to console her, not upset her! Women!
“What is wrong now?” he asked, annoyed.
She shook her head and wiped at her face with the back of her hand.
“Sessily?” He tried for humor next. “Do not tell me you were tired of the old man.”
She turned and glowered at Creshion. His heart nearly stopped. Her narrowed eyes were filled with tears, and she swallowed hard as she glared at him, but she didn"t say anything, then turned away.
He frowned. She was much more complicated than any woman he had ever met.
“And the gold,” she said, her voice hushed with tears.
He smiled. The woman was incorrigible! But he would have thought less of her had she not continued to seek the money in payment, too.
“We will speak about this later.”
“We will speak about this now! We will be at the castle late tonight, and I wish this resolved before then.”
“I have already cured Master Travis of his ailing heart.” He didn"t know why the devil he had told her, but something in him broke. His need to be tougher than manmade steel, to appear always in control, to be the one who made the decisions and by the heavens stuck by them no matter the consequences, melted under the heat of Sessily"s ire, her own righteous determination, and a need to…
He shook his head at himself. When had he become such a milk-toast? He wanted to see her smile again.
Here she was working for the guild, wanting the much touted master assassin"s guild recognition, but doing the job nonetheless, keeping her people safe, and yet what was the thought uppermost in her mind? Travis"s health. Her people"s welfare. The gold wasn"t for her. He knew she meant to use it to take care of them.
He thought back to her comment about her father being a rebel among the ranks in the assassin"s guild. Of not taking on a job if he didn"t think it warranted. Creshion considered that notion further. What if it applied to Sessily? What if she didn"t believe the queen warranted elimination?
Sessily was so very still as she sat before him on his horse, and he wondered again what she was thinking. He knew she had to have heard him.
“You know, my lady…”
“Thank you,” she said so softly, he barely heard her.
She wiped at her cheeks some more, and he reached inside his tunic and handed her a handkerchief. He expected her to rail against him about the money, but she said no more, dabbed her cheeks, then handed him back the damp handkerchief. “Thank you,” she said quietly again.
And they continued to ride in silence.
But still, did she have reservations about terminating the queen because she didn"t know enough about her?
He would have to remedy that as well.
***
Tarn and Eaton stayed well out of range of Creshion, although not so far out that they couldn"t catch glimpses of him and the girl and ensure their safety. Creshion was a powerful fae, but Tarn still didn"t know why he believed the girl would be safe with him alone on this road that led through the cobra kingdom straight to the heart of Salamain and their uncle"s castle.
“What think you of his interest in the girl?” Eaton asked, his voice hushed as usual as they"d followed Creshion"s progress.
“I"m not certain,” Tarn admitted. His brother would have them believe he was hard-hearted, but Tarn knew he was not.
When he was a child, Creshion had secretly witnessed the killing of their parents, knew who had done the deed, but would not tell either Tarn or Eaton, his two closest friends. Instead, he kept the anger buried, and truly was like the cobra, ready to strike at his enemy when the culprit was least expecting it.
Tarn and Eaton had been trying for years to learn the truth, which had only angered Creshion. They knew he worried about their welfare should they learn who killed Tarn and Creshion"s parents and sought revenge. But they also wouldn"t allow him to make retribution alone.
When they"d discovered Creshion had sought an audience with Lord Davenport, they wondered if maybe he had something to do with their parents" deaths. But Davenport would have been their age, so Tarn had discounted that notion.
He assumed then, that his brother was seeking a way to aid Eaton in somehow obtaining the Lady Marguerite as his
bride, as it should have been had Davenport not gotten in his way.
Even Marguerite"s brother had been closed-mouthed about what was going on concerning his sister.
“He killed him, don"t you think?” Eaton asked, pulling Tarn out of his thoughts.
“Who? What?”
“Your brother. Don"t you think he killed Lord Davenport?”
Tarn had wondered that very thing. But he knew his brother better than that. He wouldn"t kill a man just so that another could have his wife. Unless Davenport had threatened to harm Marguerite, but then Creshion would have killed him in some other manner. A duel, most likely.
“No. I don"t think so. He would not have poisoned the man to make it look like he had a heart attack.”
“You think he was poisoned?”
“The coroner might not find the evidence to prove so, but yes, I suspect so. As far as we know, he had no history of heart trouble.”
“Ah,” Eaton said. “So then where is the girl from who shared a room with Creshion?
Why does she travel with him?”
“He rescued her, like he said.”
Eaton glanced at Tarn, his expression one of profound disbelief.
Tarn shrugged. “I agree with you, cousin. I have no idea. He need not take her to our kingdom, and in fact, escorting her there is not the safest place she could go. But it"s more than that. They"ve been arguing. She was crying, if his handing her a handkerchief is any evidence of that. And now they sit in silence again.” Tarn smiled. “I think they are in love.”
Eaton gave him a dark smile. “I know you jest.”
But Tarn didn"t. He"d never seen his brother act so concerned over a woman. He paid most little attention, used to their chasing after him because he was the crown prince and should he ever take over from their uncle, Creshion would be king. And now here he was with some unknown fae, rescuing her, carrying her off to the cobra fae kingdom, sharing a room with her, even sharing a ride on his horse! No, there was something else going on between them, though Creshion had tried hard to shield how much he was interested in the woman from him and Eaton.