AllFreeNovel
Share Us
She takes my hand as we walk out into the sunlit streets of Cranthum, streets that could run red with slave blood if this goes poorly. Even so, I am dedicated to this cause. The scourge of slavery must end. It’s a fight that’s been mine ever since I found Beth imprisoned, starved, and scarred in a cell beneath the summer palace. I squeeze her small hand.
There’s no one I’d rather fight for than the formidable female at my side.
And I will gladly give my life to ensure her freedom.
9
Beth
A slave caravan meanders past us. The dune we’re waiting behind looks like every other dune in the sea of sand behind us: nondescript, inhospitable, and an excellent hiding spot.
“When this one’s clear, we go.” Chastain checks the black stallions one more time, using his sleeve to polish the golden trappings along their sides. “Zatran’s lookouts, who happen to be devotees of Silmaran, have already reported that our caravan is journeying to the city. Everything is in place.” He squints at the wide golden sun marking the front of Gareth’s chariot. “Should be bigger.” Pressing one hand to it, and another to a lower stripe of gold, he adds to its dimensions until it’s twice the size of a dinner plate and gaudily ostentatious. “That will do, I think.”
“You realize a winter realm noble would never have such a horrid thing, right?” Gareth holds his giant mitt up to block the glare.
“I realize.” He nods. “You prefer drab clothes, cold weather, and huddling around fires instead of …” He lets his last words fade as he looks up at Gareth’s death glower. “I mean, every culture has its high points, of course.”
“At least the winter realm doesn’t enslave anyone.” I pat his arm. “So, I’m happy to take a warm fire, a handsome fae, and all the furs I can snuggle in while living my life in freedom.”
“You’ve turned into a true blade of the winter realm.” Gareth gives me a look of approval—one I never thought I’d see directed at me.
“Right, winter blade and all that.” Chastain takes the opening and backs away. “Everything is ready.”
“Beth, the cloak.” Silmaran reaches up for it.
I hate to part with it, but I do what I must. Pushing it off my shoulders, I let it drop, then bend over to pull it free from my legs.
Gareth groans, and Silmaran’s eyes are smiling as I hand it to her.
“No one look at my mate.” Gareth’s feral laces the edge of his voice.
“We aren’t looking.” Parnon climbs onto another wagon, this one less flashy, but still well-appointed. Nemar and Eldra sit in the back, their wrists shackled. Parnon—his color the same as the dunes—takes the reins. “By your leave, my lord.”
He’s going to have to drop his surly inflection by the time we reach Cranthum or we’ll be found out immediately.
Chastain backs away, but not before giving Silmaran one final kiss. It’s far more poignant than any they’ve shared so far, and when they part, I swear I can see her chin tremble. But then she arranges her scarf and gives us a nod before climbing into the back of our chariot. A bodyguard, one with blades hidden in every part of her clothing, she takes position.
“Hang on tight, my beloved.” He slaps the reins lightly, and the horses pull us out onto the road. Sand scatters around us, and the distant hilly jungle is covered in late afternoon shadow.
“I’ll be quite happy to never visit our forest friends ever again.” I shudder when I think about the bugs, snakes, and thorns.
“I kind of liked the trees.” He gives the slash of green a rueful look.
“You can’t be serious.” I glance back at Silmaran with a ‘do you hear this nonsense?’ look, but she’s busy staring off in the distance. Probably having deep, rebellious thoughts.
Gareth shrugs as we begin kicking up a trail of dust that I can only assume Parnon will love as he gets it full in his sandy face. “They told me things.”
“Like what?” I lean forward and drape my arms over the back of his gilded seat.
“For one, that you were mine.” He cuts me a sideways glance. “But I already knew that.”
“How did they know?” I wrinkle my nose. “Actually, I think you were just hallucinating. There are no talking trees.”
He clears his throat and keeps his gaze straight ahead. “They told me two others entered the jungle about half a day after we did.”
“Two others? The slavers who came in looking for us after my relatively successful pilfering escapade?”
“No, not them.” He reaches over his shoulder and covers one of my hands with his. “These two entered at the same spot we did. They were following our trail.”
My mouth goes dry when I realize what sort of beasts would be able to track us over water, to the shore, and into a forbidden jungle. “Kizriel.”
“And his brother, yes.” He gives the green another look, this one not quite as warm. “They encountered a good deal of trouble in those hills, thanks to the trees. Only the biggest one made it out.”
“You talked the trees into fighting for you?”
He shrugs as the chariot rocks down the uneven lane. “They liked us, thought I was funny.”
“You?” I can’t contain my shock. “They thought you had a sense of humor?”
“Well, I was high on poison, so yeah. I was a riot, apparently.” He grins. “You get a lover, a fighter, and a jester—see how lucky you are?”
“Luck has nothing to do with it.” I nuzzle against the back of his neck. “I saw a wealthy noble fae of the winter realm, and I bagged him right off with my good looks and bad attitude.”
“Is that how it happened?”
“Mmhmm.” Why does he smell so good? We took the same bath. Same lavender oils and other nonsense, but he still reminds me of a crisp snow in the winter woods. “Shouldn’t I be sitting on your lap, my lord?” I run my finger around the golden collar, tickling the back of his neck.
“Yes.” His voice turns almost gruff. “Up here now, harlot.”
I scoot around the edge of his chariot seat, and he pulls me into his lap. “I’m pretty sure a slave master wouldn’t call his harlot ‘harlot.’”
“Then what do I call you?” He keeps one arm around my waist and the other hand on the reins.
“Let’s make up a naughty name, shall we?” I tap my finger on my chin while settling deeper in his lap. No sense shying away from the bulge, not when I’m the one who put it there. “How about Xalana? Whenever we play the ‘I’m your harlot’ game, that’s what you’ll call me.”
“Hmm. I like it. Tell me more about this game.” He slows our pace as we begin to catch up to the other caravan, the gates of Cranthum rising in the distance.
“Well, whenever you find out I’ve been a naughty changeling, you’ll call me Xalana and order me to my knees to assuage your injured pride.”
His purr sends tingly sparks racing across my bare skin.
I continue, “After all, you’re second-in-command of the winter realm. You can’t have a devious changeling mate running around ruining your good name. You’ll have to punish me. Or if I’ve been extra bad, perhaps make me lie across your lap as you spank my bottom and call me your dirty little Xalana.”
He shifts so his cock rests in the crease of my ass and eases a hand up to cup one of my breasts. “We’re on a dangerous mission right now, and you’ve got me wanting to slap your ass till it’s red then claim you like a wild beast.”
My body heats and I lean back against him, giving him a nice view of my breasts. “Have I ever told you that your love of rules and di
scipline gets me wet?”
“Filthy Xalana. You need some discipline.” He nibbles at my earlobe. “And you need it so badly.” He thrusts his hips against my backside. “And I intend to give it to you so good that you will never even think of another male.”
I’m getting carried away, and when he squeezes my nipple—ah, by the Spires. I shouldn’t have gotten both of us so worked up. We have to stop. I moan as he slides his tongue along the shell of my ear.
Stopping. Right. I’m going to stop this. I have to stop this.
“How many females have you bedded?” I blurt the only question I can think of that will douse our flames.
He freezes, then coughs, then curses so viciously that I wonder why the master of Spires doesn’t come to claim him right here and now.
We roll along, the wheels creaking a little and the horses chuffing.
“Why such a question?” He rests his palm on my stomach. “Of all the questions in Arin, you pick that one.”
“I’m entitled to my question as long as I also answer it.” My plan is working. I kind of wish it weren’t, because I want his hands on me, his mouth, too.
“This one isn’t exactly fair. I’ve lived far, far longer than you.”
“So? We have a deal, remember? You have to answer.” I lean forward as the gates of Cranthum become clearer, the narrow battlements lined with guards in white uniforms.
After a few moments of grumbling, magic begins to take hold. He’ll either have to answer or suffer. Magic isn’t kind to those who break their promises.
“Torture,” he grits out.
“Just answer. Do you really think I’ll get mad?”
“I don’t want my mate to think for one second that any other female could ever compare.” He tenses so hard I fear he may become stuck that way.
“Tell me!” I smack his leg, the jewels bruising my palm. “Before the magic makes you bleed out of your eyes or something awful like that.”
“Ninety-seven.” He gulps in a breath, his body unwinding. “But you must know that not a one of them—”
