Cosmina frowned. What was that noise?
Both hands gripping Henrik’s tunic, she squeezed her eyes closed, shutting out the chaotic throb of her heartbeat. The mental whirl settled. A familiar sound registered. Cosmina listened harder, isolating the source and—aye, definitely. Horses. What sounded like a whole herd, hooves hammering in thunderous rhythm. Relief hit her with a round of thank you God a second before prudence took hold. Dear goddess, she’d lost what little remained of her mind. Approaching horses didn’t mean safety. Most of the time the occurrence equaled serious trouble. The kind she avoided, usually by finding a safe place to hide until the intruders passed on whatever trail they traveled. Always the better bet out here . . . in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by rough terrain and no help.
Unease licked deep, raising alarm bells.
“Henrik.”
“Quiet, Cosmina.”
The sternness of his voice startled her. Especially since he didn’t sound the least bit out of breath. Her hold on his tunic tightened. How could that be? He’d been running flat out while carrying her. He ought to be tired by now. Despite her condition, the realization raised serious questions—the who, what, and why of Henrik. All the things she’d failed to ask when she’d had the chance. The lapse in judgment wasn’t like her. Mistrust was more her style and inquiry her weapon of choice. Cautious by nature, she fed on facts. Enjoyed information the way noble ladies did sweets. Knowledge equaled power. Or, at least, the ability to protect herself and deal with whatever came her way.
Henrik included.
“Here we go,” Shay said from behind her on the path.
“Andrei.” Henrik slowed the pace and sidestepped. Cheek resting against his spine, Cosmina opened her eyes. An indistinct shadow wavered just inches away. Frigid air burned across her cheeks. Pain pressed against her temples, throbbing into a full-blown headache as she reached out. Rough bark scraped her chilled fingertips. She exhaled in a rush. Trees. The thunder of horses’ hooves. Both meant one thing. Henrik stood at the bottom of the ravine, just feet from the main road. “Got an angle?”
“All clear,” Andrei said, voice playing in wind gusts. Boots whispered over snow, coming from above and behind her. A whistle rushed through the air. A second later, Andrei landed beside Henrik. “Kazim with the horses.”
“About time,” Shay said.
“Shay . . . flag him down.” Shifting his hold, Henrik pulled Cosmina off his shoulder.
Her feet touched the ground. Nausea threw bile up her throat as agony clawed her shoulder. Desperate to stay upright, Cosmina locked her knees. With a quick dip, Henrik swung her back into his arms. The jarring movement made her wince.
“Sorry,” Henrik said, regret in his tone. “I know you’re hurting. I don’t mean to be rough.”
“’Tis nothing,” she said, even though it wasn’t true. “Naught to worry about.”
Cradling her close, Henrik skirted the trees and followed his friends. “Liar.”
“Better than the alternative.”
“Which is?”
“Crying.”
He grinned against the top of her head. “Just a bit longer, mica vrăjitoare.”
“Nice try.” Understanding his game, she ignored the provocation and pressed her cheek to his chest. Heat radiated off him in waves, curling around her. So nice. His strength. His warmth. His willingness to share them both. Unable to resist, she snuggled closer, taking all he gave her. “But I’m too tired to care what you call me.”
“You’ll get me back later, though, right?”
She snorted. Score one for Henrik. The man never said quit. “Hammer you, for sure.”
“I’m relieved.”
“You’re an idiot.” He chuckled. Her mouth curved in appreciation. For some reason, his teasing revived her, helping her change tack. Tough as nails, remember? She needed to hold on to the truth of who and what she was and . . . remember. Despite her injuries, she wasn’t a weakling. Never had been. Never would be either. “You forget how good I am with a blade.”
“Not for a moment. I’m looking forward to sparring with you.”
“Like I said . . . an idiot.”
He laughed again, then dipped his chin and kissed the top of her head. He lingered a moment, mouth pressed to her hair, making surprise rise and confusion surface. Cosmina frowned. He shouldn’t be doing that—kissing her. The show of affection seemed misplaced and yet somehow, it felt right too.
Meant to be.
The phrase whispered inside her head, stirring her Seer’s instinct, unearthing questions best left unasked. Cosmina knew it marrow deep. Allowing curiosity free reign—becoming entangled with Henrik—was a bad idea. ’Twould be better to ignore the tug of attraction. Safer still to turn away. Some things, after all, were meant to stay buried. But even as her senses prickled, warning her to stand down and stay clear, she couldn’t deny the truth. He intrigued her. A hardened warrior one moment, gentle the next. The ability to kill without conscience coupled with a need to protect. Polar opposites tucked inside one man. A complete mystery, one far too alluring for the sleuth in her to pass up. Which meant she couldn’t back away. Not yet. She wanted to explore a little further. Needed to know more . . . about everything, all he hid from the world.
Even if she grew to regret it in the end.
A shout went up. The thundering echo of hooves slowed on the trail. Henrik strode out from beneath the sway of tree limbs. The wind picked up, telling her he’d walked into an open space. Cosmina titled her head, pressing her forehead to Henrik’s collarbone, gathering sound, gauging distance, plotting the trajectory of approach. Horses snorted, blowing hard somewhere to her right. Seconds lengthened into more as multiple harnesses jangled. Ten feet away, mayhap a bit less. Henrik tensed. Muscles flexed around her and . . . oh gods. She knew what his shift in tension signaled. He planned to—
“Get ready.”
“Henrik, wait. Don’t—”
He heaved her upward. She landed with a bump. Cosmina moaned. The horse shied, sidestepping beneath her. She reached out with her good hand, latching onto the soft strands of the long mane a moment before Henrik swung into the saddle behind her. Strong arms closed around her. With a quick tug, he pulled her against his chest and put his heels to his steed’s sides. The horse lunged forward. Others followed, hooves hammering in Henrik’s wake as he took the lead.
“Tuck in, Cosmina,” Henrik said, voice rising above the howl of winter wind. “Hold tight. ’Tis going to be a rough ride.”
Heart beating triple time, Cosmina didn’t argue. She did what he asked instead, hooking both legs over one of his thighs. One shoulder nestled beneath his arm, she hung on hard, moving with him, watching dense shadows flash past from her position in his lap. Deft hands on the reins, Henrik galloped around a bend on the trail. A burst of light perforated her periphery, slicing through her mind before splintering into imagery.
Her breath caught.
Gods. ’Twasn’t much. Barely anything at all, but the flash gifted her with a brief glimpse of the terrain. Now she knew what trail they traveled. She’d spotted the marker—the jagged boulder signaling the last turn—amid the soaring trunks and leafless tree limbs. Add that to the rumble of water and—aye, no question—she neared River’s Bend. Was naught more than half a mile from the edge of the Limwoods.
Which meant she needed to warn Henrik.
Ritual must be followed and etiquette observed. Otherwise the ancient forest would react . . . and not in welcoming ways. Most people scoffed, mocking the magic even as they gave the woodlands a wide berth. But she’d seen it at work and respected its power, feeling privileged enough to call the mystical force friend most days. At first, she’d thought it odd the forest spirit liked her—had opened its borders and invited her in, allowing her to make a home under its watchful eye. Now she knew the truth. The goddess had ensured her welcome, sending a protector to see to her in exile. Praise be. Without the Limwoods, she might’ve died. Instead she’d f
ound friendship, one that would last a lifetime. But as much as she loved the forest spirit—and it her—Cosmina understood its limitations.
The forest’s benevolence didn’t extend to anyone else.
A problem. Particularly right now.
If Henrik crossed the river before she introduced him and asked for safe passage, violence would ensue. The kind no one—least of all her—wanted to see.
“Henrik,” she said, her voice a low rasp. Drat and damn, she sounded awful, like an old woman on her deathbed, so frail her words didn’t carry. Which wouldn’t do. She needed him to stop. Otherwise she wouldn’t be able to explain. A circumstance that would get Henrik and his friends killed. “Slow down. Wait before—”
“Later.”
“Nay. Now.” Fighting her injury, Cosmina pushed herself upright. He tightened his grip, keeping her flush against him. She thumped on his chest with the side of her fist. “You don’t understand. The Limwoods won’t—”
The horse’s front hooves left the ground.
With a growl, Henrik locked her down, keeping her contained in his arms. Thigh muscles flexing, he controlled the jump and landed on the other side of the embankment. Water roared, flowing along the banks of the Mureş River. Smooth stones tumbled, cracking into the next as Henrik raced for the river’s edge. The stallion’s hooves kicked high, spraying cold water into her face. Panic struck. Cosmina shoved at Henrik, desperate to stall his forward progress.
“Henrik, stop! Turn around—stop!”
Her desperate shout rang out. Too little, too late.
The scent of hollyhocks rose as the Limwoods awakened. She heard the lethal hiss. Sensed the ancient presence coil and powerful magic rise. Throwing both hands out in front of her, she yelled the forest spirit’s name, hoping to stave off the attack. To no effect. Already on the defensive, the woodlands sent thick creepers slithering toward them like snakes. Under. Over. A writhing symphony of sound driven by deadly intent. Cosmina cringed. Henrik cursed and hauled hard on the reins. The warriors behind him shouted. Horses screamed, water arcing as each reared, hooves clawing thin air. Venomous vines struck, reached out like tentacles, then yanked hard, plucking her from the saddle, breaking Henrik’s hold, dragging her along with the others deep into the recesses of the forbidden forest.
Henrik came to, shooting into awareness like a bottle thrown into rushing water. He bobbed on the surface a moment, heart beating an unnatural rhythm as he shifted. Sore muscles squawked, sending sensation prickling along his spine. He frowned and took stock. Hands bound behind his back. Check. Feet pulled together, a tight tether around both. Double check. He cracked his eyes open and . . . oh goody. Hanging upside down inside a dark plant-infested alcove too. Lovely. Just terrific. He’d just cornered the market on a triple threat called absolutely screwed.
Not that it meant anything. He’d been in tight spots before. A lot of them. All kinds of life-threatening situations, but, well . . .
Being attacked by a giant plant ranked as the most bizarre. One of the worst situations he’d encountered in a while. A close second to being strapped to the blue stone inside Grey Keep. The memory sliced deep, elevating his pulse. His heart punched the inside of his chest. Sucking in a deep breath, Henrik shook his head. Not good. Nowhere near fair either. He didn’t need reminding. His mind didn’t care, reacting to the bondage, serving up the memory on a mental platter.
Tied down. Spread eagle on cold stone. Helpless in the face of Halál and his knives.
A shiver rolled through him. Refusing to give in, he shut it down. ’Twas rank insanity. The height of stupidity. No way should he be comparing incidents. Or dwelling on the past when the present stared him in the face. Christ, he had enough to worry about right here. So forget the awful lash of remembered torture. The bitter memory needed to stay where he put it . . . locked in the dark pit at the back of his brain.
Flexing his hands, Henrik tested his bonds. Thick tentacles reacted, coiling higher, slithering up his forearms to brush the insides of his elbows. The cold, leathery slide gave him a bad case of the creeps. He hated being bound. Despised the weakness along with the vulnerability. Which meant he needed to figure a way out fast. Henrik wasn’t alone. He could feel the sway and bump of the body hanging next to him as wind swirled on a gentle updraft. One of his friends? Some other sorry shmuck who’d been punished for getting too close to the Limwoods? Cosmina? Henrik’s chest went tight, closing his throat. God, he hoped not. Prayed she’d gotten away. Was even now headed for safety, but . . .
Jesus help him. He couldn’t tell. The darkness was too thick, impeding his ability to see, never mind assess the situation. Guess now he knew how Cosmina felt, didn’t he? Blind. Vulnerable. Hemmed in by the reality of weakness and reliance on another. Not fun—any of it. Particularly since—
“Goddess help me.” Full of vexation, the mutter came somewhere off to his right. Henrik’s head snapped in that direction. Gaze narrowed, he searched the darkness and listened hard. A rustle of sound. A rasp of harsh exhales, almost as though she couldn’t catch her breath. The coil and hiss of unfriendly vines. “Thea, for the love of God, ’tis me . . . Cosmina. Please let go.”
Relief hit Henrik like a runaway horse. Oh Jesus. Thank Christ. She was unharmed. Sounded all right too—voice hushed but strong.
Cosmina cursed again. The low grumble rolled through the quiet, cluing him in to her mood. She wasn’t scared. Her tone said angry instead. A good sign. One that gave him hope as thick creepers tightened their grip, writhing around him.
“Cozs-meeena.” More hiss than voice, the whisper shivered through the trees, rolling on long-drawn s’s, raising the hair on the nape of Henrik’s neck.
“Aye.” She huffed. “’Tis me. Now, let go.”
The forest hummed, the slither and slide full of warning.
The body next to him jerked. “Merde. What the—”
“Jesu,” Shay said, coming awake on his other side.
Kazim stirred with a groan. “Allah be merciful.”
“Quiet.” Rocking sideways, Henrik bumped Andrei, then used the momentum to swing in the opposite direction. He touched shoulders with Shay. The gentle collision made his apprentice flinch, knocking him into Kazim. Steel rattled as blade hilts kissed. Shay sucked in a quick breath. Henrik snapped his fingers. The soft sound triggered a reaction. His friends took the cue and buttoned up, staying silent while vines creaked in the swaying to and fro. Excellent. Necessary too. The last thing he wanted was Cosmina distracted. Particularly when she appeared to be making headway, conversing with, well . . . he didn’t know. An enchanted plant named Thea? “Let Cosmina work.”
A thump echoed through the quiet. “Ouch! Jeepers . . . watch it, would you?”
Henrik’s lips twitched. Probably not the smartest reaction, but hell . . . he couldn’t help it. Cosmina didn’t sound happy, and the fact she directed her displeasure at Thea tickled his funny bone. Somehow, though, he wasn’t surprised. Unafraid to speak her mind, Cosmina packed a wallop when she wanted to . . .
Man-eating plants included.
“Blast and damn, Thea.” A slap reverberated in the alcove as Cosmina swatted vines away. “Be careful of my arm.”
The air stilled, growing colder. Thea growled. “Hurt.”
“Naught time won’t heal,” Cosmina said, tone switching from annoyed to soothing. “Now . . . where did you put them?”
“Bad men.”
“Nay, Thea. Good men. They protected me at White Temple and mean you no harm.” A scrape, then the shuffle of boots on frozen earth drifted in the dark. Henrik tilted his head, listening, interpreting each noise and . . . aye, definitely. Cosmina was now on her feet. “I’m sorry I did not ask for safe passage. You know I always do, but we are being hunted by—”
“Halál of Grey Keep.” Violence shivered through the forest. Roping vines twisted, reaching up to brush Henrik’s cheek. “Bad man.”
“Very bad man.”
“No like.”
“Me neither. But Henrik and his friends are not like that.”
A pause. The darkness expanded, stealing his breath, tightening its hold, enclosing him inside his own head. Pressure built between his temples. Henrik clenched his teeth. His comrades twitched, reacting to the mind-bending pulse as the forest took a breath. An ominous rattle followed. Baring invisible fangs, Thea turned to stare at him. Pure conjecture, considering he couldn’t see anything? Mayhap, but Henrik didn’t think so. The magic in the air told the tale. And as she hissed his name, Henrik held his breath and stayed very still. No sense provoking the thing. Thea oozed potent power and the menace of predatory intent. Otherworldly. A force to be reckoned with . . . an intelligence rooted deep in the earth. The kind he’d only felt once and knew could only mean one thing.
Thea belonged to the Goddess of All Things.
Supposition? Or fact? Henrik bet on the latter. The theory made a certain amount of sense. Cosmina, after all, lived inside the Limwoods. Not something just anyone could do. As a member of the Blessed, Thea recognized her for what she was: a servant of the goddess. Someone who played on the same side. A woman to be protected and cared for as the deity decreed.
Henrik cleared his throat. “Cosmina?”
“Oh thank the goddess.” A rustle sounded as Cosmina turned in his direction. Still somewhere to his right, she paused mid-step. He didn’t blame her. ’Twas too dark to see anything. “Henrik . . . are you all right?”
In a manner of speaking. Strung up like fresh kill, his position didn’t exactly inspire confidence. “All in one piece, but ’tis too dark. I cannot—”
“Thea . . . some light, if you please,” Cosmina said, providing what he needed before he asked.
Henrik frowned. Some light? Any at all would be good. The thought echoed, bouncing around inside his head an instant before a low hum cut through the quiet. Pinpricks of light blinked on, illuminating the darkness. He squinted, vision adjusting to the sudden glare, and . . . good Christ. An army of lightning bugs, the drone of tiny wings buzzing above the roll of writhing vines. Blood rushing in his ears, hanging upside down six, mayhap seven, feet from the ground, his gaze swept the enclave. Surrounded by dense forest. Hemmed in by creeping vines. Deep in the heart of the Limwoods. A place most had never seen, never mind survived.
Knight Avenged (Circle of Seven #2) Page 18