Several minutes pass in silence before she shifts, peering up at me once more. “Can you tell me where we’re going?”
Until now, I’ve kept our destination vague whenever she asked. Which wasn’t often, even after the first night we left her sisters, but Wren’s had a lot on her mind. It’s not surprising she hasn’t pushed me much for information on where we’re going.
We round a bend, and Chaos slows as the ground underfoot becomes slippery.
“Well, I suppose there are two answers to your question,” I muse.
“Oh?”
“If the suns and moons are with us, we’ll reach The Ivory Spoon within a day or two.” The inn is located a short distance outside Moorn, and I’ve stayed there a few times over the years. “With any luck, they’ll have a couple rooms for us and a stable and some hay for Chaos.”
Mist will have to fend for herself, but that won’t be a problem. The forests around Moorn are teeming with wildlife, and she enjoys the hunt as much as I do. I’m sure she’ll find something to keep her occupied while we rest.
“That sounds nice,” Wren says.
“Mm-hmm, it will be.”
Between the money Maia was able to obtain for me on short notice and the funds Hedran had on him, we’ll be able to pay for the stay and have enough to buy supplies later.
“Watch your head,” I direct as Chaos trots under a large low-hanging branch.
We both duck, and I curve my chest around Wren’s back. The trees reach for us, brushing the top of my head and shoulders. Wren squeaks, squirming against me, and blood rushes to my cock.
I make a mental note to give the gelding an extra treat when we stop riding.
“And after that?” Wren asks when we’ve straightened. “Where are we going?”
I lift my head and wrap my arm around her more tightly. Is it necessary? No. Do I want to keep holding her? Absolutely. “After, things get a little... tricky.”
“What do you mean?” Even though I can’t see her face, I can tell her brows are furrowed.
“I have a general idea of where we’re going.” And by that, I mean that I’ve heard a few rumors and I’m hoping the information I’m following is at least somewhat trustworthy, although I don’t tell Wren that. “And I’m fairly certain it’ll be safe.”
For her.
She looks up, her nose scrunching. “‘Fairly certain’?” she repeats.
“They may not take kindly to me.”
There’s a chance—a rather high one, if I’m being honest—that they’ll kill me on sight. But these people are also Wren’s best shot at survival, and if we find them, I’m hopeful they’ll guard her from the king while she works out what’s happening with her magic.
And her safety, it seems, is far more valuable to me than anything else. Including my own well-being.
11
THE IVORY SPOON
WREN
“What do you mean, there’s only one room?” Gabriel leans over the counter at The Ivory Spoon, the quaint two-story wooden inn that was a sight for sore eyes when we arrived not long ago. The bag holding all our possessions is at his feet, the sword he took from Hedran strapped to his hip beneath his cloak. His other sword is sheathed behind his back.
My muscles are aching, reminding me that we rode all night to get here. Chaos has been brushed and stabled, and I hope he’s getting a good rest. He deserves it.
Gabriel, Mist, and I are all still shaken from our encounter with Hedran the day before last. After we left the dead Hunter’s body, we rode for several more hours before finding refuge in a small cave. Neither Gabriel nor I slept much as the suns rose, then fell.
But we made it here, and I’m hoping we’ll be able to sleep well soon. The inn doubles as a tavern, and a handful of drunken patrons are milling around round wooden tables, speaking loudly.
Oil lanterns are burning low, empty tankards are lined up on the counter, and a woman with forest green hair is wiping downtables. An unoccupied piano sits by the front door. A small fire blazes in the hearth, keeping the winter’s chill at bay.
