“Never call me that again.” I didn’t put the cuffs on, because he was clearly not a flight risk. Instead, I yanked him by the wrist toward Bram.
“Is that horse looking at me? He’s judging me. That horse is absolutely judging me.”
“He judges everyone,” I said.
“So you want me to get on the giant magic horse who hates me?”
“He doesn’t hate you.” I wasn’t sure this was true. “He just has questions. We all do.”
I mounted first, settling into the saddle, and reached down. Pip stared at my hand as if it were something far more intimidating, his gaze flickering back to my face as his throat worked.
“Up,” I said. “Don’t make me cuff you.”
His smile turned cheeky. “Don’t threaten me with a good time.”
Pip grabbed my forearm and I lifted him and deposited him in front of me on the saddle. He made a small involuntary sound as his bare body settled into my lap. My cock twitched.
There were certain unavoidable physical realities to carrying a person in the saddle in front of you, certain reactions within one’s body.
It was a logistical difficulty caused by his lack of clothing. That was all. My iron magic stirred, waking in a way it shouldn’t have.
“Comfortable?” I asked.
“Mmm.” Pip shifted a little and settled in.
I kicked Bram into motion. He waited a judgmental beat before settling into an easy, loping canter that had Pip bouncing against me.
As we rode, Pip chattered, a constant stream of bewildered observations. “Wow, is that a real thatched roof? Like, with actual straw? It’s so cottagecore.” A moment later: “Wait, is that a windmill? I didn’t even know they still made windmills!”
The Queen had wanted a distraction. She was about to get her distraction, along with unforeseen tactical complications.
I adjusted my grip on the reins. If my arm tightened around his waist, it was only for safety, because he kept squirming. It had nothing to do with the warmth of his bare stomach against my forearm.
Chapter 2
Aeldryc
IbroughtPipthroughthe back tunnel, avoiding town. Better not to explain a half-naked sparkly twink—whatever that was—to the citizens of Feravael. The stable yard was blessedly quiet, with a few stablehands rushing out to take our mounts. I dismounted first, reached up and lifted Pip down. I meant it to be neutral, but he tipped forward and slid down my chest like rain over stone, his body molding against mine.
“Pip, what are you doing?” I took a step back, heat coiling low in my gut. It was a reaction I hadn’t felt for anyone in years, and one I refused to have now.
Pip did a little innocent eyelash flutter up at me. “Thank you for lifting me down, Al.” How were his lashes so long and thick? Wait, had he called me Al?
Before I could address the Al thing, Thyren cleared his throat. “Commander. Shall I go file the incident report for the Queen? I’ll cross-reference the border patrol logs as well.”
“Absolutely,” Vaelith said, appearing from the direction of the armory with suspicious speed. “And I should inspect the weapons. Today. Right now. Can’t wait.”
Ilyndra was already gone. I hadn’t even seen her leave, which was either impressive elvish stealth or a deliberate insult. Possibly both.
I should tell them to handle Pip, should stalk off and leave them with the annoying work, but Pip chose that moment to turn around, put his hands on the hitching post, arch his back, and wiggle his round buttocks while singing a low song that seemed to be about riding horses that were dirty.
My mouth went dry. I couldn’t trust his safety to anyone else under my command. It had to be a spell. Perhaps he had a glamour woven into his skin to unsettle me. There was no other explanation for this heat, this possessiveness.
Thyren clapped me on the shoulder. “You’ve got this, Commander.”
They left.
I huffed out a breath and handed the reins to Thom, who had appeared from somewhere and pointedly avoided looking at Pip’s rear end.
