The bright light of the moon reflected on the snow, reflecting the hunger of the winter-thin wolves. He rose and crouched on his bare feet, turning his head from wolf to circling wolf.
“Get back,” he said. His shoulder ached, the inflamed joints protesting every movement. The wolves snarled, their muscles bunched under thin, grey fur. He curled his lip and growled, letting the beast out from where it lurked inside. He wasn’t free, and tonight it was a good thing. They responded to his threat, edging out of sight into the underbrush. He waited until he was sure they were gone before pulling his clothes out of the satchel and getting dressed. At least she’d left him clothes.
Dressed in real clothes, boots on, Rage strapped to his hip—for the first time in over a decade, he felt like a true man. But he also felt more alone than he had the last fifteen years stuck in the warren with only Beezel and the low-brained goblins for company.
He dug inside the bag and saw she hadn’t totally abandoned him. Half a pasty and an apple were wrapped in a greasy piece of burlap, but the wand and the diamond were gone.
He didn’t blame her. She’d need every weapon she could get in this forest on the edge of the White Queen’s demesne. A light dusting of snow had filled in most of the scuffing from her slippers but her steps leading into the forest were still visible. If it snowed again he’d lose the trail. He didn’t have the Gift for tracking, unless he could shift into the shape of a wolf or hound, and that wasn’t happening. Not with his magic still tied into the curse. When he’d hunted as a prince, Logan Ni Brennan had tracked for them, and Logan’s father before him.
Logan.
He hadn’t thought of his friend for years, tried not to think of him. Now he wondered. Had he survived the queen’s purge? Had any of them survived?
He ate his pasty and contemplated Bryanna’s snow-covered trail. He should be angry with her for stealing away his opportunity to save himself, his men, and her family. In some ways this witch had become like one of his followers, and instead of feeling like she’d betrayed him, he knew…he’d betrayed her.
She’d gone, he should just let her go. It was better this way. Now he could travel fast and find someone who would help him. There must be a way to connect with those who knew what was going on in the courts. And perhaps, re-connect with some of his men.
To the south stretched the pine forest and within that somewhere lay a path that would act as a portal to the Dark Forest. If he found that, he could follow it to the lands of the Fir Bolg and find reinforcements. And maybe Logan.
He felt the eyes of the wolves on his back.
Time to make a decision. He brushed the crumbs off of his fingers and swung the bag over his shoulder. This was the Northern forest, a cold, harsh no-man’s land edging the lands of the White Queen. But at least fifty years ago, he’d hunted here along the ancient road between Cairngloss and Caer Bol, home now to the Brethren. His lodge should still be there, shielded and stocked with food and supplies, waiting for him and his next hunting party. Even better, he didn’t think the queen or Agrona had any idea of its location.
He walked through the pine forest, one wolf trailing after him, the other skulking in the shadows, waiting for another opportunity to strike. The narrow path had once been a wide road, long before he’d been born—back before the White Queen had taken over the north and the gnomes of Cairngloss had given up and moved on. The moon rose higher in the night sky, and the breath of the wind carried soft keening sounds. The wolves pricked their ears forward and took off into the trees.
Kian halted, and listened hard. The snowy landscape was still, and cold, and silent.
A woman screamed.
His gut tightened.
“Bryanna!” he shouted. His call echoed into the pines, but nothing answered him besides the quiet shush of the breeze through the snowy landscape. Apprehension kicking him in the stomach, Kian picked up speed, and ran.
“Bryanna!”
“Here!” The snow was deep, but he caught the trace of Bryanna’s trail leading between two bushes. He burst through the narrow gap. She was waist deep in snow, the hungry wolves circling her from a wary six feet away.
“Kian, don’t come any closer.” He stopped. She was easy prey, mired down in the snow, but the wolves stayed away, growling softly, but not attacking.
“I’m here.” He took a step.
“Don’t!” Her desperate face was pale in the moonlight. “The snow, it’s sucking me down. The more I move, the deeper I get.”
“It’s quick-snow, don’t move.” He searched the forest floor for a long tree limb strong enough to support her weight, finally finding one that would do. He dragged it to the clearing, careful to stay far away from the slight depression he could now make out in the moonlight. She’d sunk lower, and her eyes were wide and scared.
He threw the limb to her. She struggled to lift her arms out of the snow, submerging deeper with each movement.
“My bag, it’s holding my arms down.”
“Drop it.”
“It’s got the wand in it. And the diamond.”
The black diamond and the wand his mother had charmed with power for Agrona. He’d thought maybe, they might be used together to reverse the power of the stone, destroy his curse instead of making it permanent. Somehow his next words were strangely easy to say.
“Let them go.” He’d already known he wasn’t going to get a reprieve. There was a strange relief in accepting that, for now, he would be a beast. Maybe someday he’d find a cure, but it wouldn’t be this way. Not at this woman’s expense.
“But Kian…”
“Let them go.”
She nodded and sank a little deeper as she struggled to lift her arms out of the snow. “My clothes, they’re too heavy.”
“You have to try.”
She floundered, sinking further into the snow. “I can’t.” The words came out stretched and thin.
His title wouldn’t help and he had no magic to use. He had nothing to encourage her with but his voice. He lay on the snow and put all of his years of command into it. “You can. You must.” He stretched out his fingers as far as he could, not even coming close to her strained face, but wanting to give her something of himself. “I believe in you, Bryanna. Slow down and move one arm.”
She closed her eyes and blew out a breath. “Okay,” she said. She pressed her lips into a tight line. Inch-by-inch, her right arm rose to the surface. She was up to her armpits now and only one arm was out. He didn’t know if he could pull her free, but he didn’t have time for doubt.
“Grab on.”
She wrapped her fingers around the branch, and he pulled. His boots slid and slipped, and he drew closer to the lip of the quick-snow. His foot slipped over the edge. The snow in the pit gave way and his leg sank in.
“Stop. You’ll be in here with me!”
He let go.
“It’s alright, Kian,” she said, her voice soft as she sank back into the snow. “You’ve tried.” The icy wetness nearly touched her throat, creeping closer to her face.
The faith in her eyes nearly broke him. He’d let so many people down who’d looked at him like that. Good men had died for him and now she would too. He cursed his mother. Cursed the day he’d been born to a woman who would shut his magic away from him and leave him in the position of losing this woman to smother in the snow.
It was because of Bryanna he was free and able to contemplate gathering what remained of his forces and take on his mother. Magic or no magic, he’d be damned if he’d give up on her. “We’re—” his voice broke,”—we’re going to try again, are you ready?”
Her gaze fixed as steadily on him as if she hadn’t even heard his weakness. “Ready,” she said.
He leveraged himself off the snow and rose to his feet. “Don’t worry, and don’t let go,” he said.
She nodded, her white fingers clamped around the branch.
He found a better spot to brace his feet and pulled. Sweat formed on his brow despite the fr
igid breeze. His muscles strained, and with a slow sucking sound, she came loose. He dragged her up the bank of snow and collapsed next to her.
They lay panting, side by side, in the cold under the moonlit shadow of a tree. One of the wolves crept close.
He sat up and tossed the branch at it. “We need to get moving.”
“I can’t. I’m exhausted.” There were dark shadows under her eyes, and she shivered.
“When did you last sleep?”
I don’t remember.” She shook her head. “I spent last night making sleep-dust and the nets. Maybe the night before?”
“Come on,” he said. “I’ll carry you.”
“No, Kian.”
He ignored her protests, and picked her up, walking in the direction he prayed the hunting lodge still lay. She nestled in his arms, her cold, damp face burrowed against his chest, the scent of roses rising from her skin. For a fleeting moment he had the irreverent thought that he wished he was someone different. Someone who could keep a human witch as his own, instead of a prince who had the weight of his people’s needs on his back.
Bryanna clung to Kian, knowing she should get away from him, but not sure her exhausted body could make the effort. Her fur-lined cloak and brocade dress were saturated with melted snow, and every bone in her body felt heavy and wet. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to stand on her own, let alone walk anywhere by herself.
“Put me down,” she said. “If we build a fire, I can dry out.”
“Not just yet.” He continued walking, breaking through the trees and into a large, moonlit clearing.
He was the queen’s son, and he’d lied to her, but here he was acting the hero and carrying her through the enchanted forest. But she wasn’t a princess in disguise and he was her family’s enemy.
She couldn’t let him carry her any further. “I’m too heavy, these clothes are soaking wet and weigh a ton.”
He stopped and placed her on her feet, “I think this is it.”
Wobbling under the weight of her clothes, she grasped his arm so she wouldn’t collapse. “This is what?” She took a shaky step into the empty clearing, dragging every ounce of heavy, wet wool and fur.
Kian pulled her closer to the trees. “Keep back.” Out of his bag he pulled a large, curved horn, its aged yellow bone carved with strange runes. He placed the horn to his lips, his cheeks puffed wide, and a mournful baying erupted. He blew two more times and lowered the horn to his side.
There was a moment of complete stillness. No sound. No wind. No movement. Bryanna thought her hearing might be gone.
A blast of icy air pushed her back, and she stumbled. Kian’s arm wrapped around her, and there he was again, holding her up when she couldn’t stand on her own two feet. The gusts picked up tiny pieces of snow that cut into her skin and obscured the clearing and she ducked, hiding her face in Kian’s strong sheltering embrace.
The wind and snow died down. The clearing was empty no longer. A large cabin with white stuccoed walls intersected by nearly black logs stood in the space, looking like it had been there for hundreds of years.
Bryanna stumbled back. “Whoa! I thought you didn’t have any magic?” She kept her Gift shut down, sure the entire thing would squirm with blinding power.
“My personal power is still caught in the spell, but I have my belongings. Some things follow me, no matter what my mother does. The sword and the horn are two of my inheritances.” His hand caressed the pommel of a long sword she had never seen before, strapped to his hip. “She can take much away from me, but they belong to me as much as my manhood, and until she cuts off my balls, I’ll have that, too.” Bitterness etched hard lines around his lips. He swept her up in his arms again. “Come, my witch. We’ll get you warm and dry.”
Too tired to argue, she let him carry her up the stairs and put her down on the broad boards of the landing.
“Who lives here? Will they let us stay?”
“I should bloody well hope they’ll let us stay, since it’s my hunting lodge,” Kian snorted and stepped up to the oversize door. The old, dark wood was heavily carved with loops of strange beasts. Wolves with wild eyes and long tongues, snakes etched with runes instead of scales, and in the center, a dragon eating its own tail circled around the only bare spot on the door. Kian pressed his palm to the wood and spread his fingers out wide. The wooden dragon quivered.
Even without her Gift open Bryanna felt the flare of old magic as the dragon’s tiny carved eyes gleamed, and it moved, sliding in a slow circle widdershins around Kian’s hand. She blinked and her vision blurred. All the knotted animals on the door shifted and moved in a sinuous, intricate dance.
There was a loud click and the door swung open.
“Come on.” Kian pulled her after him, and they crossed into the dark interior of the lodge. “Wait here.”
He left her just inside the doorway and she swayed, catching herself on the doorframe. The slick slide of snake skin slithered under her palms. She shrieked and let go, stumbling for the exit and the bright moonlight outside.
Light flooded the room. “Found it.” Kian gave her a quick smile from where he stood by the fireplace with his hand on an old porcelain knob and plate.
“You have electricity.” Was all she could say as she stared up at the twenty-foot high ceiling and the chandelier created from a dozen or more racks of antlers and strung with antique light bulbs.
“Of course.” He crossed back to Bryanna, tugged her inside, and shut the door behind her. “I had it wired years ago.”
How many years ago, she wondered. When electricity was new?
She stepped in slowly and took it all in. A couch of polished branches and covered with leather seat cushions worn with wear, fronted an empty fireplace. To the right, a wide, wooden stairway ran to a second-story balcony that crossed the entire back of the room. A wide scarred table that looked as if it could easily seat twenty took up half the room, and the rest of the room was wide open, scattered with comfy chairs and small tables. Huge, double doors led off to the left with a matching pair to the right, under the stairs. All of the wood was so dark as to be almost black, richly carved with strange creatures, and even more exotic runes.
Bryanna shivered.
Kian frowned. “You’re cold.” He reached out to touch her, and she stepped away.
He’d helped her out of the quick-snow, but this lodge showed he had tricks up his sleeve. He was still the son of her enemy, and he’d proved she couldn’t trust him.
His frown deepened, but he let her go. “Maeve! Donagh!” Without waiting for an answer, he swept his arm toward the stairs. “After you.”
“Is someone here?” She held her head high and walked to the stairs. Her dress weighed a ton, as did the soaking wet cloak. It was all she could do at this point to put one frozen foot on the first well-worn step and then pull her battered body up to the next one but she’d be damned if she’d ask him to carry her again.
“The lodge has resident brownies. You won’t see them, but I’m betting by the time I have you to the guest bedroom, you’ll see evidence of their work.”
Kian hovered behind her, watching her slow progress up the stairs, his impatience something she could feel.
“This is ridiculous.” He picked her up and took the stairs two at a time. .
“Hey!” she said. But it was a half-hearted protest. It was a relief to know he was taking care of her. Again. Even though she knew she should be indignant.
“I know you don’t want me to touch you—you’ve made that clear——but I’m offering you my hospitality. And in my world, that’s a serious thing.”
“Hospitality has nothing to do with being forced to be carried. Put me down.”
“When you are dry and comfortable, you can be as stubborn as a court lady, but right now, I don’t want to have to catch you if you fall.”
They reached the balcony, and he freed a hand to open the second door from the landing, bumping it open with his shoulder. Inside, he turned the kno
b. Bryanna barely had time to take in the red curtains and the fresh white duvet before he’d crossed to an open door and flipped on the light in the bathroom. Steamy hot water poured into the tub from the old brass spigot and the citrusy scent of orange and vanilla rose from the frothy bubbles.
Kian put her down. He touched her chin, turning her face up to his. A tremor ran through her.
“Relax.” He shook his head at her, his voice dropping low with disgust. “I’m not a monster. You’re my guest, now, not my prisoner. Leave at any time. I won’t hold you against your will.”
She didn’t respond. His touch reminded her of the night they’d spent together, his hands skimming along her skin, arousing her. But she couldn’t give in to her desire to sink into his strength, ask him to strip her of her wet clothes and use his skillful tongue and fingers until she forgot how horrible the last day had been. No she couldn’t give in to her body’s weakness, no matter how much she was tempted. He’d treated her as a prisoner before.
She moved another few steps away.
He sighed. “After you clean up and get dressed, come downstairs. There will be food.” He turned to go, then paused at the door and he spoke with his head bowed. “And, Bryanna, if you still want me to, when you come down I’ll tell you the truth of what it means to be the son of the Black Queen.”
Kian watched the flames lick higher on the enormous, pine log, and brooded. He wanted—no he needed—the witch to look at him as if he had her respect. Maybe even her affection?
He didn’t understand it, why had her feelings become important to him? It was confusing and frustrating and inarguably the worst waste of his time. But he still desired her…what? Approval?
Not that that would happen. He was his mother’s son, and despite what Agrona had implied about his father, he’d come of age in the sewer of the Black Court. He was selfish and arrogant and used to having everyone cater to him. Maybe that was why he desired the girl’s good opinion. The trust and light he’d caught a glimpse of in her eyes, had been a breath of fresh spring air in the hot, sultry sewer of his life.
Prince by Blood and Bone: A Fantasy Romance of the Black Court (Tales of the Black Court) Page 16