She’s got a point.
"These aren't friends of yours?" I ask, marking the way Kai's shadows have begun to writhe more aggressively around his arms, the way Logan's hackles are raised in his wolf form.
"Friends is a complicated word," Kyrian answers.
"No, it really isn't." I put my hands on my hips, ignoring the way my muscles protest after being hauled around. “Pretty straightforward concept, actually."
Kyrian sighs and spares me a quick glance over his shoulder, his tousled dark hair framing his angled jaw. “Whoever is coming might or might not wish me dead. Either way, they will unlikely be at liberty to actually kill me. You on the other hand, they will absolutely want to unalive. Which would be inconvenient after all the trouble we went through to kidnap you.”
Well, at least he’s direct.
"Here we go," Kai says, though I've no idea what he is looking at. The words carry that familiar edge of controlled tension that I've learned means trouble is about to find us whether we want it or not.
True to form, a heartbeat later, a patrol of five fae warriors melts out of the trees’ shadows. They move with the same fluid grace as the triad, their steps making no sound on the leaf-strewn ground. Also, all four are armed, their blades leveled directly at us.
Neither Kai nor Kyrian make any move for their weapons, which either means they're supremely confident or we'resupremely fucked. Given my recent luck, I'm betting on the latter.
"Identify yourselves," the male at the front of the patrol orders. He's tall and lean with auburn hair pulled back in a warrior's knot and more blades strapped across his chest than anyone should need.
Kyrian steps forward with that infuriating confidence that transcends species. Even disheveled from our trek through the forest, with his dark hair falling across his forehead and his clothes rumpled, he somehow manages to look like he owns the entire damn camp. So much so that when he dropped his hands behind his back, like a general conducting inspection, it looked natural. “You first, sentry.”
The armed patrol straightens almost imperceptibly.
“You—” the patrol leader’s brows furrow then lift suddenly. “Your highness?” The words grow more certain, his fist rising to touch his chest. “Stars, Prince Kyrian. What are you doing here?”
Chapter 2
Rowan
“I’m sorry, what?” the words spill out before I can stop myself. Not that anyone is paying attention to me right now. “PrinceKyrian?”
“Talyn.” The corner of Kyrian’s mouth twitches upward and he extends a hand to the sentry, the pair clasping forearms. His voice still carries the melodic lilt I've grown familiar with, but now there's something more beneath it. Authority. Kai-level authority. “When did they let you out of the nursery?”
Talyn gives a short snort of laughter as he sheathes his blade, the others following suit. “A year or so. Not that you’d know. Where the hell have you been the past two years?”
“He did say,your highness,right?” I clarify with Ellie. “That wasn’t my imagination?”
“If you imagined it, so did I,” she whispers back.
Kyrian gives Talyn a kind of curt look that saysdon’t overstep yourself.“Busy.”
“Of course.” Talyn clears his throat, his attention now off Kyrian and back onto the rest of us. When it lands on me, there is a flicker of surprise, then recognition and then a hate so bitter that I can taste it in my mouth.
“Is that human what I think it is?” Talyn asks. "The mercs claimed they had the Ainsley gift with the cadets, but I thought they were just driving up the price. But they weren't, were they? That's her.”
“Who is in charge of the detachment?” Kyrian says, ignoring the question.
“Prince Theron. I?—”
“- Please send word to him of our arrival,” Kyrian interrupts, his face so carefully schooled that I’m certain the commander’s identity isn’t good news. At least for Kyrian. Whether that’s to my and Ellie’s benefit remains to be seen. Kyrian lifts his chin slightly. “I would like to attend to him at his earliest convenience."
Talyn hesitates, glancing at his comrades. “You know I can’t let two humans juststrollinto the encampment,” he says, choosing each word with obvious care. “Especially when one of them matches the description of Ainsley's daughter. Not even for you.”
Kyrian exhales sharply. “I take full responsibility for the women. Both of them. Stand aside."
But Talyn doesn't move. Neither do the others. If anything, the other sentries eye us with increasing suspicion. And in the case of one male — a lithe younger looking fae with blue-dyed hair — open hatred. Like I’d done harm to him personally.
"We have orders," Talyn says, his features hardening into that particular expression soldiers wear when caught between rank and regulation. “You may go forward and we can allow your companions in on your parol. The humans will be surrendered to our custody however.”
