by Inez Kelley
They avoided all roads and pathways, seeing nothing but deer and the occasional wild dog. When Batu headed down an embankment for a road, Darach’s vigilance peaked. The prince rode close to Darach and tugged his reins. The horses’ heads hung low, exhaustion quivering sleek muscles.
Batu pulled his scarf away from his mouth. Darach noted the gray cast to his skin. The prince had ridden too far too soon after his injuries. “We have to go along this road for about a half mile.”
“How much farther until we stop for the night?” Jana asked. The weariness in her tone pulled at Darach and had he been able to frown, he would have. He needed no rest but she did. Calling his magic, he shifted to human form, a thick bear-hide mantle about his shoulders.
“You should seek shelter now.”
Batu nodded. “First, food. There’s an inn ahead where we can get a hot meal. If we push on after, we can make the cabin about midnight.”
Darach took the reins and led the horses. Around the next bend, a single-story building stuck out from the landscape, too wide and too boxy. Long spikes of ice hung from the rooftop. Welcoming firelight flickered from thick, wavy windows, and a gray tendril of smoke curled from a squat chimney. A sign swung on a short chain bearing the name The Cock and Crow. Loud music and voices broke through the frosty night.
Batu groaned as he dismounted. Had Darach not caught him, he would have crumpled to the ground. Jana secured the horses to a hitching beam, her worried gaze darting back at them. She left the prince his dignity, refusing to fuss. He would do the same. He simply stood, allowing Batu to lean against him until his feet were steady. The prince straightened his spine then nodded.
“You’ll have to speak for us. My face is known there. I wouldn’t bring Jana here any other time but it’s the only option we have right now.”
Every drop of his blood went on alert. “This place is dangerous for her?”
“Not if we stay close and she keeps her hood up. Most likely we’ll get some stares. If anyone asks, she’s your wife and I’m your servant, all right?”
“You wish me to lie?”
A long breath blew a white cloud from Batu’s lips. He rubbed his shoulder and his voice was clipped. “Yes, Darach, I want you to lie. Lie well if you want to protect her.”
He’d sprout gills if it would keep Jana safe. “Then lie I shall.”
Heat blasted Darach’s face as he opened the door, Jana behind him, Batu at the rear. Over two dozen men and women crowded into the single room, clustered at tables or along a short counter holding bottles and casks. Smoke from something other than the fire stung his nose and he rubbed his hand across it.
A short tug on his cloak pulled him toward a corner table. Batu kept to the shadows, placing his chair close to Jana’s and keeping his face shielded. But he thrust the flap of his mantle aside, freeing his good arm and sword. That move heightened Darach’s awareness and he slid one glove free, keeping it on his thigh below the table.
A woman approached, half her blouse hanging off her shoulders, exposing the sagging mounds of her breasts. Her hair was the shade of straw and looked as brittle. A red coloring lined her mouth in a crooked smile and highlighted two missing teeth along one side.
“Ale or whiskey?”
“Ale,” Darach answered, lowering his hood. “And hot food.”
“Now ain’t you a tasty one?” The barmaid’s smile hitched higher. Something in her gaze made his skin itch. “We’ve got food. You got copper?”
“No copper. I’ve silver and gold. Which do you require?”
A snort jerked her shoulders. “Sweet and proper, like a regul’r gentl’man. Do ya’self a favor, honey, don’t be talking about the gold too loud in this crowd. Gimme some silver and I’ll fix ya’ three up right.”
Digging in the money pouch, Darach handed her four silver circles, hoping it was enough.
Her mouth opened and her eyes darted to him. Three of the coins disappeared into her blouse. The last she held in her fist. “They call me Lyra and ya’ just sit tight. I’ll be right back with some grub.”
Low masculine laughter shook the table. “You just paid her for a month, Darach. Remind me to teach you about money later, all right?”
“That was the first coin I have seen,” Darach murmured.
The loud volume in the room curtailed their talking until the food arrived. Both Batu and Jana ate quickly, their bellies unfilled for too long. Darach sipped his ale, more for pretense than thirst. Several men from the counter kept looking over their shoulders at them. Darach moved his leg until his glove was visible, hoping the lamplight would show the lethal claws and they could avoid confrontation.
Jana nudged the pot of stew toward him. “You need to eat.”
“No, nayeli. I require no food. Take your fill and then let us depart.”
Batu shrugged and scooped a second ladle of stew onto his plate. Darach noted that Jana preferred the carrots, using her spoon to dig them out of the stew. It was a minor fact, something personal about her that brought a smile to his mouth.
Batu’s mug was empty and his soon joined it. Jana had but an inch left in her own. For himself, he didn’t care but Jana required more drink. She’d sipped little water and ridden hard. Batu whispered for Darach to go to the counter for more. He hung the glove back on his belt and rose.
“Keep her close.”
Batu nodded, subtly shifting and bringing his weapon closer in reach. Darach grabbed the mugs and strode to the bar. Not a single man moved aside. He raised the mugs over their heads, thrusting them toward the gray-haired man draining liquid from a cask. “More ale, if you please.”
The man barely glanced up but snagged the cups and began filling them. Someone bumped Darach hard, then another jostled him from the other side. Darach bit back his annoyance, then felt a tug along his waist. Grimy fingers were trying to pull the coin purse from his belt. He clamped his hand around the hand, fragile bones breaking. A cry rang out.
A child crawled from under the counter. His hair was dark, and gaunt cheeks sported a healing green bruise beneath a layer of dirt. He kicked Darach in the shin. Darach didn’t flinch nor let go.
The man behind the counter snapped a towel off his shoulder and came around to Darach. He latched onto the boy’s ear, shaking him. Darach let go and stepped back.
“How many times I hafta tell ya’ to leave the paying customers alone, boy?”
“I wasn’t pinchin’ it, swear. I was just lookin’!”
The man slapped the boy. “Ya don’t look with your hand, you little thief. Ya want me strung up by some province guard ’cause ya stole from the wrong man?”
He hit the boy again, openhanded, but the crack split the air loudly and blood pooled along the child’s lip. Darach fisted his hands.
Another slap sent the boy to the floor. “And now look at ya’ with busted fingers. How ya supposed to be scrubbin’ dishes with a bum hand, eh? Think I’ll feed you for half a job done? Your ass’ll be doin’ the work for the next couple weeks.”
He reached to grab hold of the boy’s shirt but Darach caught his arm. “Do not strike him again.”
The old man pushed thinning hair over a bright pink bald spot. “Sorry I am, milord. This brat don’t speak for me and mine. I run a fair business and don’t hold with no stealin’. He’ll get what’s due him, never you fear. Should’a never taken him in, but the missus, she says orphans need a place. Need slapped a good one, iffin’ you ask me.”
“I did not ask you and you will not touch the boy again.” Darach leaned down and gripped the child under his arm, tugging him to his feet. “How much coin is required to pay for his keep until his hand mends?”
The tavern keeper screwed up his fleshy lips. “How much? Eh, dunno. Ain’t no coin in the matter. I let him sleep in the stables, feed him a meal a day for doing dirty jobs like washin’ and scrubbin’ the floors. Rent him if he’s lazy or eats too much.” He glared at the child. “Ain’t gonna be no supper for a week neither after this t
rick.”
Darach held fast to the child’s arm and sank his other hand into his purse. A handful of silver was thrust at the old man. “There, that should buy his room and food until he heals from my injury with no further punishment. Are we agreed?”
Avarice sparkled in the tavern keeper’s eyes. “Uh, yeah, we agree.”
Darach turned the child and walked him a few paces away from the crowd of men. The way he cradled his hand twisted Darach’s gut. He’d not known it was a child he latched onto or he never would have squeezed so.
He knelt on one knee, bringing himself to the boy’s level. “What’s your name?”
“Don’t gotta name, they just call me Boy.”
“Where’s your mother?” A shoulder movement was his only answer. “Where’s your family?”
“Got none. I’m a bastard some whore threw away.”
Revulsion tasted sour in Darach’s mouth. This child cared nothing for himself because no one had ever cared for him. He’d been tossed aside, like scraps for the dogs to gnaw on. How could any human be so cruel to an innocent? Disgust filled his mouth. For every beautiful and decent thing in this world, there were four vile things to overshadow it.
No one had even given this child a name. Their horses had names. Was not this waif worth as much?
Digging once more into his purse, he found a single gold coin and held it to the boy. “I will pay you for a duty if you are willing.”
Suspicious brown eyes locked on the coin. “I don’t like that. It hurts and I bleed.”
“What hurts?”
“When men big as you bugger my ass. If I getta say, then I say no.”
Darach had no understanding of what “bugger my ass” meant but it filled the child’s face with disgust. He pressed the coin into a dirty hand.
“The duty I require is you do not steal again and hold your chin up. If you only look down, all you’ll see is dirt. If you look up, you’ll see a road that can lead anywhere.”
Boy grasped the coin and chewed on his lip. “The tanner might take me on if I was cleaner and had better clothes. He said so. That’s why I tried...” He raised his chin and scrutinized Darach’s face. “Why’re ya givin’ me coin?”
“I had no coin until this was given to me. But I had a name. I shall give you one. I name you Argot, after a man who gave a gift that cannot be replaced.”
“Argot? Wassat mean?”
Darach had no idea. A self-deprecating tickle lifted the corner of his mouth. His first lie was for a precious cause. “It means ‘worth much.’ I do not give you this gold piece. You must earn it. Go to the tanner, and do your best to grow into a good man, to live up to your new name. Then we will be even, you and I.”
“Argot.” Boy murmured the word as if tasting it, rolling it around his tongue, feeling it in his mouth. He ran a broken nail across the coin. His shoulders drew back. He met Darach’s gaze. “My name is Argot. I like it. It feels like me.”
A slender hand stroked Darach’s shoulder and Jana’s fresh-brook scent filled his nose. “We’re finished. Let’s leave now.”
Darach nodded and rose, taking a moment to brush the top of the boy’s head with his palm. Icy fingers of wind slapped at his cheeks as he followed Jana out the door and onto the small covered porch. Batu limped down the stone step and untied the horses.
“Batu, don’t you dare turn around,” Jana whispered then whirled to Darach, cupping his cheeks. Her low breath misted across his chin. Snow swirled around them, tossed by a cruel wind as her arms slid around his neck and her mouth fused to his.
Her lips held a hint of pepper. Chill air slicked along his brow but her mouth—oh, her mouth—held a heat that warmed him from the tips of his toes. Hard, firm, brimming with something he didn’t understand, her mouth took his until he had no breath.
His body moved without conscious contemplation, mimicking what he’d seen Batu do with Feena. His hands dropped to her waist, tugging her closer. Firm breasts crushed beneath his chest, and her fingers slid up to grip his hair. Her mouth opened and her tongue touched his lip. He answered, licking out, tasting her for the first time. Something inside him unfurled, like a bud opening to the sunlight. It reached out, wanting more, more of her. His tongue thrust deeper, searching. Masculine hunger growled in his belly unlike anything his bear knew. An ache between his legs turned sweet as things moved there, thickening and hardening.
Then she was gone, stepping to her horse and leaving him standing there. That damnable hood shielded her face from him and, in his confusion, he remained in human form, walking alongside her horse’s flank. He’d never thought that a kiss, a mere touching of lips and tongue, could bring such sensations. His body hummed in the winter night.
Batu turned north, where the road lay covered in white with no footpath marking the way. Barren trees arched overhead, fracturing the moon glow to patches of weak blue and deeper gray. The crunch of snow from the horses’ hooves echoed far too loud. A prickling along the base of his neck elevated his awareness.
“Be wary,” he whispered.
“What is it?” Batu asked.
Noise exploded from the tree line. Moonlight glinted off a silver blade. Batu charged, bringing his mount between the descending men and Jana. An axe handle struck his horse in the muzzle. It squealed then bucked, unseating Batu. Darach took a step then stopped, a huge hunting knife jammed against his throat.
Rank breath sailed across his neck from behind. “You’re mighty free with that purse, milord, so I’m thinking you won’t mind handing it over.”
Batu tried to rise, but two dark shapes hovered over him, kicking. Jana cursed as meaty arms ripped her from her saddle and held her to a chest broad as a workhorse. She squirmed and struggled. A gruff snigger filled the night. “Hey, this is a fiery one, like I like ’em. Think he’s as free with his woman as he is with his coin?”
“Whatever, idiot,” the voice at his back spat. “But make it fast. Then maybe I’ll have a go at her.”
Jana’s eyes went wide, then narrowed. She drew up her knee and slammed her boot down on top of the man’s foot. He loosened his grip as she elbowed his ribs. “Get off me, you dog!”
Fury sped through Darach. The sharp edge of the knife cut into his throat as he shifted his weight, preparing to race toward her. He whirled, knocking the blade away like an annoying fly. He gripped the man’s neck, his fingertips driving deep into flesh. The man kicked like a newborn babe. Purple splotches broke along his cheeks and his lips turned blue.
Red-rimmed eyes locked with his as Darach squeezed. The airway crunched and blood spurted. A wet gurgle bubbled a small bit of red froth from the man’s lip but his body went limp. Darach flung the bleeding body aside then shoved his hand into his glove. The claws became extensions of the animal inside him that hunted.
Jana had gotten her attacker to his knees but he held firm to her cloak. She spat in his face, kicking him in the groin. “Whoreson!”
His yelp sounded like a puppy’s squeal but his huge hands latched onto her thigh, tugging her forward until she stumbled into his hold. His brute strength easily flipped her onto her front and his meaty hand captured her flailing wrists behind her back. His other hand shoved her tunic edge up and her leggings down. Her rounded bare rump glowed milky white against the dark band of her breeches.
“Don’t make me hurt you,” her attacker growled, tugging at his own clothes.
“You won’t,” Darach promised.
His claws raked down the man’s spine, opening his body like a book to be read. Blood splattered the snow. A fast punch, twist and tug ended the nonexistent battle. The body collapsed on top of Jana. Darach used his boot to roll the man off her. She rolled and her eyes went wide at the gaping hole in the big man’s back.
The prince had regained his unsteady footing. His sword pinned one dead body to the ground through the belly. He fended off the second attacker’s axe, dodging and ducking, then striking out with his dagger. A kick to his bandaged leg dropped him to hi
s knees.
Darach growled. Humans. They disgusted him, preying on the weak—the young, females and the injured. He lunged with a bellow. Batu’s attacker shrieked, dropping the axe. Fear widened his eyes as he backed away, holding his hands out. He took three timid steps backward then whipped around and fled. Snow kicked from his boots as he darted toward the tree line around the road bend.
A feral instinct pounded hot in Darach’s blood. His long legs made the chase a short one. Snagging the coarse wool cloak, Darach planted his heels and yanked the man off balance. Snow-crusted gloves shoved at him but he thrust them away and grabbed hold of one scrawny arm.
A swift jerk ripped bone from the socket as a scream pierced the night wind. Skin tore away, blood spitting into the air, before the man collapsed, his face buried in snow. Darach tossed the arm alongside the body. Victory swelled inside him.
“What did you do?” Jana’s horrified whisper floated on the bitter wind.
“I killed him.”
“He was running away!”
Confused, he turned. A fire crackled in her eyes, not the flash of excitement or fear but one of anger. It hit him like a boulder and he staggered back. Her fury tasted of scorched dirt in his mouth.
Limping from behind her, Batu said nothing. He struggled to one knee and turned the body over. Long lank hair covered the slack face. Batu pushed it aside and cursed. Although tall enough, the body wasn’t of a full grown man. The barest tinge of a beard darkened the youth’s gaunt cheeks.
“Oh, God,” Jana breathed. “He’s barely grown.”
“Seventeen maybe, eighteen at best.” Batu, head hanging low and his shoulders drooping, pulled the dirty mantle hood over the man-child’s face.
Her knees crashed into the snow. Darach reached to pull her to her feet.
“Get away from me!” She swatted his arm and scrambled back, away from him. “Why? You didn’t have to chase him.”
“It makes no sense to let prey escape.”
The livid heat of her glower turned frosty. “He wasn’t prey.”