Rhone noted how both men struggled with the wind, their eyes watering. As Rhone faced forwards, he could feel the chilly air on his forehead and mouth, but his eyes were fine. “The goggles were a great idea,” he called, still panting hard.
“Thank you,” Monikah squeaked.
Rhone grinned as they shot through the bottleneck and he heard the booming calls of ‘Whoa, whoa’ from the man behind.
They were in front.
Chapter Twenty-One
The firelight was fading fast, and Monikah had fallen quiet in the last two hours, though she hadn’t complained once.
“We’ll stop in another forty-five minutes.”
Rhone strained to peer ahead for obstacles. “Easy, Leo.” This was when Rhone was most likely to give Leo his head. The dog wouldn’t knowingly take a dangerous path, and Leo was as intelligent as dogs came, but he’d also been running most of the day. Fatigue would be affecting his judgment as surely as it was affecting Rhone’s.
The other sledders would risk running longer through the night to try and catch up to him, but being in the lead made that risk unnecessary. Seeing as he’d lost sight of the competitors behind them, Rhone would pull up soon and just keep an ear out overnight. They could set out again if he heard barking.
“Forty-five minutes,” she said, rolling her shoulders. “I can do that.”
Rhone wrapped an arm around her, grateful the motion of the sled gave him an excuse to do so. “You can lean back if you want. I’ve got you.” He tensed for a moment until she took him up on the offer. Monikah nestled back into him and Rhone rested the side of his face against her temple with their hoods cushioning their heads as they rolled over the snow.
She molded perfectly against his body.
Over the next forty-five minutes, Rhone replayed his speech over in his head until he could remember all the parts without pausing. When the firelight had completely gone and Rhone could barely see ahead, he straightened and listened behind.
Nothing.
He called to his team to slow, and they came to a gradual halt, their panting the only sound in the night. Rhone dug in the snow anchor, and jumped off. He turned back to help Monikah. The Ire woman hobbled off the sled, ignoring his hand.
“I think my body got frozen in that position,” she said, pushing her hood off and removing her goggles.
She looked exhausted, and he knew the excitement of the race wasn’t solely to blame.
“You should walk around for a bit while I get a fire ready and set up camp,” he said softly.
Monikah nodded and began limping around the small clearing. Rhone didn’t waste any time lighting a fire, which would signal the person up ahead to drop off the dogs’ food. They always ended up around the same spot in races, so predicting their location was easy.
Soon, the fire was roaring, and Rhone set to work melting snow for his team in a pot over the fire. He walked up and down the line of dogs, praising and scratching them. “Good dogs,” he said. “Good dogs. You just wait until dinner.”
He’d leave them on the line for now. They were too tired to be bothered pulling right now anyway.
“Can I help with anything?” Monikah asked, averting her gaze.
Rhone glanced at her. “You can grab the dogs’ bowls out of the sled, and the tent.”
She placed the bowls down the line and Rhone tipped water into each one, refilling the small pot with more snow to melt. His dogs would need plenty of water. He set the pot back over the fire, and watched Monikah patting the dogs as he’d done.
The dogs liked her. Everyone liked her. That she might like him didn’t make too much sense, but if she told Rhone she returned his feelings tonight, he wouldn’t be questioning it. Not one bit.
She hauled the tent over and Rhone stole glimpses at her as they put the shelter up. Their eyes met several times, but Monikah didn’t say a word. Was she thinking about the sole tent, too? Despite the frigid temperature, Rhone felt unbearably warm.
“I got the food out,” she said, sitting by the fire. “I’m starving.”
“You haven’t been eating well,” he answered, sitting by the fire across from her.
“No. . . .” She trailed off, passing him bread and cheese.
The air grew thick with tension. “I wish you would eat, Monikah,” he said after swallowing. “It worries me when you don’t.”
She didn’t answer, but her pink cheeks told him the opening was as good as any. Rhone opened his mouth. Shit. What was he going to say? He’d gone completely blank. He shoved cheese in his mouth, catching a puzzled look from the Ire woman.
He remembered a scrap of his speech. “I left because I was jealous of you and Adnan. I mean, shit. No, I wasn’t. I wasn’t jealous of you and Adnan. Not for long.” His mind went blank again. The snow wasn’t entirely melted but he yanked the pot off the flames and went to fill up the dogs’ water bowls again. Shit, shit, shit. He’d said it. He couldn’t take it back now. What was the rest again?
Rhone took his time filling up the pot with more snow, scrambling to recall the rest of what he’d wanted to say. He dragged himself back to the fire and with a heavy sigh, glanced at Monikah. “Can I start again?”
Her eyes were wide. Her ruby-red mouth was slightly ajar. She nodded.
He sighed in relief and took his time before starting. Should’ve just charged in and flung her over my shoulder. “The morning after our kiss, Fiona told me you were with Adnan in his workshop. I thought you’d be a few days once you got stuck into a project, and so I decided to sort out a few things from my past while you were busy.” Rhone winced. “That sounds stupid in hindsight; I should have talked to you first. But going back to the Outer Rings just made so much sense at the time.”
“You went back to the Outer Rings?” she asked.
He nearly tripped over himself to answer her. “Yes, to my grandparents’ old house. I told you about the kids who burned my grandmother’s paintings?” He waited for her nod. “Well, I found one of them.”
Monikah straightened. “You killed him?”
So bloodthirsty. He bit back a grin. “No, urchin. I didn’t kill him. What I did do is realize that gang did me a favor. I’d never be here with you if they hadn’t kicked me to the gutter.”
Her cheeks grew pinker and she rubbed at her mouth, but not before he glimpsed the small smile there.
“Thank you for telling me,” she said, lifting her head. “I’m glad you figured a few things out.”
Rhone stood and walked over to her, crouching by her side. “Does that mean I’m forgiven?”
Monikah pulled her head back and tilted her mouth upward. “It means I’ll think about it overnight and let you know.”
He lowered his mouth. “I have something that might help you think.”
“Delivery!” someone shouted.
Her head flew forward, cracking against his jaw.
“Ouch,” he yelled, clutching his face.
Monikah was gripping her forehead.
“Are you okay?” he asked, nearing her. Rhone glared at the person delivering the dog food. Bastard.
She was laughing. “Yes, I’m fine,” she said. “Sorry.”
“Only a small bump,” he said, rubbing his jaw. Large bump. Her head was really hard. Rhone got to his feet and relieved the Bruma of his delivery, daring the man with his eyes to laugh over what he’d seen.
Wisely, the man chose not to, and disappeared back to wherever he’d pitched his tent in the bush.
Still furious at the interruption, Rhone dug into the heavy sack. He gave the largest slab of venison to Leo, and then worked back through the line of dogs, giving them all attention. After that, he listened in the distance. There was some barking but it was a way off, and didn’t appear to be moving closer. Someone was camped not too far behind them.
“We’ll leave at first light?” Monikah asked.
He sighed—the moment was definitely gone. “Yes, unless someone tries to overtake us during the night.” He p
acked away the rest of the food, and scattered the coals.
Her face fell. “We may have to go during the night?” She passed him a pear after he’d scrubbed his hands with snow.
“Yep.”
She blinked. “I’m going to bed then.” He froze as she began stripping off her overcoat.
Living around the castle, stripping females and males weren’t exactly an unusual sight. But he’d never seen Monikah’s body before, and couldn’t shake the notion he was spying on something forbidden, even though she’d only removed her coat and had at least two more layers underneath.
She shook the snow off and deposited her overclothes inside, and then sat in the tent with her feet out to remove her boots. Rhone had been caught in a stupor but as Monikah quirked a brow at him, he spun to check the fire, the whispering sounds of her removing other layers all he could hear. If someone had overtaken him at that moment, he would’ve let them.
How many layers was she taking off?
Rhone waited until the tent fell quiet and then took off his boots. He swallowed at the sight of her trousers discarded by the entrance. She was just sleeping in his tunic? He exhaled and reached up to pull off his tunic, opting to leave his trousers on.
Rhone pulled up the furs. “Budge over. I’ll sleep next to the door.”
Her thighs were white and visible in the dark tent. He wouldn’t be sleeping tonight, then.
She complained but did as asked and Rhone slipped in next to her. Monikah pushed back into his side, groaning.
“You’re so warm,” she sighed. “How is that possible when it’s snowing outside?”
Rhone lay tense. “Overheating isn’t hard when you’re lying next to a beautiful woman.”
Monikah stilled and he turned on his side, bending his knees so she didn’t feel just how overheated he was, before reaching an arm across her.
“Thank you for racing with me, Monikah. I wouldn’t have chosen anyone else.” He meant it.
“No one else?” she asked sleepily.
“No one,” he promised.
She turned her face into his chest. “Thank you for sharing with me,” she mumbled.
Her breathing evened out and Rhone moaned inwardly at the teasing tickle of her breath on the hairs of his chest. This was going to be a long night.
Chapter Twenty-Two
He leaned over and stroked the side of Monikah’s face from temple to jaw, the only touch he’d ventured all night. “Time to wake up.”
She groaned. “Already?” The woman cracked open an eye. “How can you tell? It’s still dark.”
“The birds.”
He left her muttering about stabbing certain morning birds. Rhone went about the few chores efficiently, restarting the fire, giving his dogs a small breakfast. Watering them again took time, but doing so ensured they’d still be strong at the end. He’d have to run them hard. Everyone else would be.
Monikah emerged—clothed, thankfully. He’d caught a few moments’ sleep, but had woken every time she shifted. He passed her some water and a pear, wolfing down his own portion. He scattered the fire and took down the tent. The sled was repacked before Monikah had finished her food.
Barks sounded in the distance, growing closer.
“Get ready to go,” he said.
Monikah disappeared into the trees and emerged, climbing aboard the sled as Rhone checked the dogs’ harnesses and his line, exciting his team. He ran his hands over the sled.
The barking was louder now.
They put on their goggles, and Rhone pulled out the snow anchor. “Hike!” He ran and jumped onto the footboards, holding on to the sled either side of Monikah.
He urged the dogs on until they were running hard.
“How long until the end?” she called over her shoulder.
“Just after midday if we have a good run.” Sector Five had seen a decent snowfall overnight and unfortunately, being the one in front also meant he’d be the first through the snow. His dogs would have to work harder and tire quicker for it.
Once they completed the race, Rhone was going to finish the conversation he’d started with Monikah without any damn interruptions.
“Are the others close behind us?” she asked.
“Fairly close. Three teams, if I had to guess. Hard to tell.”
Monikah gripped the sled over his hands. “I want to win.”
He grinned into the wind. “We’ll do our best.”
She snorted. “You win every year. Fiona was saying.”
Was she now? Fiona had been busy. “Being in the castle has its perks. I have access to the top dogs, and unlimited food for them. And they’re my job, so I don’t have to train them around another job as others do.”
“I’m sure some of it is skill,” Monikah argued.
If she wanted to think that, he wouldn’t stop her.
Monikah sighed. “Rhone, do you feel the same way today?”
His chest loosened. “Why would you think I didn’t?”
“You ran away the first time. Honestly, I thought you found me annoying for some reason.”
Maybe annoying was what he needed, though somewhere along the line he’d begun to find her odd ways more endearing than annoying. Rhone called to the dogs before answering, “I don’t.”
She laughed suddenly. “You sure know how to make a woman feel good.”
He grimaced. “Sorry—”
Monikah bumped his shoulder with the back of her head. “I’m only teasing you. And don’t worry, I’ll train you like you train your dogs.”
“. . . You sure know how to make a man feel good.”
He grinned as she laughed.
“Rhone,” she called back again.
“Urchin?” He spoke in her ear.
She lifted her hand and placed it on top of his on the bar. “I forgive you for leaving after the kiss. Just let me know next time, so I don’t worry.”
He’d said almost the same thing to her on the Great Stairway. Her words tugged at his heart. “Thank you, urchin. I’ll do that.”
The dogs rose over a small incline, and Rhone studied the drop on the other side.
“Hold tight,” he warned her.
The sled hit the flat ground hard, jarring up through his spine despite his bent legs.
“Ouch,” Monikah said.
“You all right?” he asked.
“I may be missing a few teeth.”
The dogs were flying, and they rose over another rolling bump at fast pace. “Brace,” he said. “There’s two bumps in a row here.”
The sled came down hard, and Rhone swore at a loud cracking sound. The dogs were sprinting, and Rhone’s frantic calls didn’t have time to take effect before they were over the next rise.
“Hold on,” he shouted at Monikah, clamping an arm around her waist.
The sled landed with jarring force, and they were airborne. Monikah’s scream was all he could hear as, disoriented, Rhone tried to roll so he was underneath. He hit the ground on his left hip, and caged Monikah in his arms as they tumbled several times before coming to a halt.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Rhone ignored the pain in his side, kneeling over Monikah. “Are you okay?”
She held up a thumb, wheezing from having the air knocked out of her.
Rhone whirled to call for his dogs, expecting them to be a few hundred meters away by now with no idea their passengers had been tossed. Surprisingly, the dogs had stopped. “We got lucky,” Rhone threw back. “Chasing down dogs is not fun.”
The barking behind them was growing steadily louder. If they hurried they wouldn’t lose their lead, but the person would be hot on their heels until the end.
“Can you stand?” he asked Monikah. Rhone ran his hands down her arms and legs and then the rest of her body.
“Yes, but you can check me again for injury if you’d like.”
He released a breath. If she was joking, she wasn’t badly hurt. “Here, take my hand. We need to get back on.”
�
��What happened?”
“Something went on the sled.”
They hobbled to where the dogs were waiting, and Rhone discovered his next problem. “The line is tangled.”
Monikah looked back; the barking was far too near for Rhone’s liking. “What do you need me to do?” she asked.
“We have to remove the dogs to untangle the line, and then hook them back on. You’ll need to hold some of the team.”
He unclipped the smaller dogs and set Monikah up with as many as she could hold. He left the grunt dogs on. As he worked up the line, however, he spotted Leo on the ground.
The dog whined as he neared and Rhone stroked him. “What’s wrong, boy? You hurt?” He ran his hands over the dog, and didn’t need Leo’s yelp to confirm what he found. Rhone stared at Leo’s back leg, and then absently checked the other. Leo yelped again.
“Is he okay?” Monikah called.
Rhone couldn’t speak for a moment. He swallowed. “His back legs are broken.” The other dogs must’ve trampled him when he slowed; either that or they’d become tangled in the line.
She gasped, and he swallowed again, stroking the dog’s head. “It’s okay, Leo. You’re okay, boy.” His voice shook.
The barking from behind was almost upon them, and Rhone glanced up as the other sled drew near, and slowed.
“Your dog is injured?” the man Rhone didn’t mind called.
“My lead dog,” Rhone shouted back, hearing more barking behind.
The man shook his head. “I’m sorry to hear that. We’ll help you with him.” He made to get off the sled, speaking to a boy Rhone assumed was his son.
Rhone was glad the man had the sense not to suggest leaving the dog behind. He glanced back, spotting the next competitor a few rises back. “Keep going. You’re in the lead.”
“It’s no matter.”
Rhone stood. “Get back on your sled. Don’t be a fool. I’m out of the race anyway, and I’ll manage just fine getting to help. Get back on your sled with your boy and keep going. I won’t be accepting your help.”
The man held his gaze as the dogs appeared over the second rise.
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