Page 23 of Blood & Roses

“We should go,” I reminded him, wiping my mouth with my sleeve and chasing away the lingering touch of his thumb.

He sighed, nodding as he looked out the window. “What do you think about renting a horse?”

The horse was a ridiculous expense, but Rowan insisted he was too tired after being awoken by the damn bird, and he couldn’t possibly carry me all day, and he wanted to be armed in case of danger, and excuses, excuses, excuses.

It was extremely obvious as he swung up behind me and wrapped an arm tightly around my waist that his motivations were entirely selfish.

“How’s this?” he asked, speaking against my neck and sending a shiver whipping down my spine. “Comfy?”

“I hate you,” I replied, a bit too breathlessly to be serious.

He chuckled. “No, you don’t.”

We were out of Fairwinds by the time the sun was peeking over the horizon, moving as quickly as we could without over-taxing the poor horse. It would be slower going than riding on Rowan’sback, but I couldn’t deny the appeal of having his arms around me, keeping me steady and warm in the cold.

We kept our hoods up in case someone recognized him and reported to the queen, but Rowan was certain she didn’t care enough about any of the guards to remember their faces.

“The offer of marriage must be a lie,” he said, several hours into our ride. We had talked about anything and everything, another benefit of Rowan being in his elven form, and now our conversation had turned to the assassination. “But perhaps we can trick her with a pig’s heart from a butcher. Get close enough to her for you to do your magic.”

“It will have to be poison,” I replied, shivering a little as he idly flexed his fingers against my waist. Probably an unconscious move. Maybe. “Unless I can get my hands on her long enough to render her unconscious so you can finish the job.”

“Messy,” Rowan grunted, his voice a caress against my ear. “And she’s constantly guarded.”

“What about the mirror Mora saw in Tristan’s memories?” I wondered, chewing on my lower lip and trying not to think about Rowan’s hand. “Could she have used that to enchant him somehow? Create the illusion that he couldn’t shift?”

“I’m not sure,” Rowan said. “I’ve never seen her show particular interest in any specific mirror, but she’s a vain creature.”

“Tell me about her magic,” I commanded. “What am I up against here? Is she an illusionweaver like Sera?”

“That’s what’s strange about all of this,” Rowan replied, moving his hand to pat the horse’s neck. I mourned the loss briefly until he returned it to my waist. “She’s Elandorean. Not really remarkable either. She can shift, but nothing out of the ordinary.”

“But she somehow poisoned Tristan’s mother, married and murdered his father, and cursed him to remain a deer,” I listed as I pondered what kind of magic would allow her to do all of this. “And somehow convinced the High King’s guard that your brother was dead without a body.”

Rowan stiffened behind me. “I hadn’t thought of that,” he admitted, sounding chagrined. “Maybe she’s part Frostwood? Or else…”

He trailed off, and I twisted in my seat to look at him. His face was pale.

“What?” I asked, looking around for an attacker or some other catastrophe.

“Or else she has powerful help,” Rowan finished.

I scoffed. “Who would be helping her?”

“Perhaps one of the other kingdoms,” Rowan suggested, sounding grave. “Hoping to claim Elandor, or at least make it less powerful. There’s been a great deal of infighting between the kingdoms since the endless winter set in twelve years ago.”

“And the High King hasn’t stopped it?” I asked, surprised that he would allow discord to grow between the kingdoms.

The three elven kingdoms, according to lore, at least, had been formed when the first elves divided, each pursuing a different element of Lirael, the elven goddess of wisdom, magic, and the forest.

Frostwood elves had channeled her magic, mastering the art of weaving magic into all manner of creations. Silvershade elves had embraced her wisdom, gathering knowledge and sight in their great libraries and focusing on honing the natural gifts of their bodies. Elandorean elves had embraced the forest, shifting their forms into those of the creatures who dwelled in her sacred woods.

But Lirael’s direct descendants had possessed all of these gifts, and so her children and their children had ruled as elven High Kings and Queen for a millennia, keeping the three growing kingdoms united as one elven people.

But if the High King was no longer keeping the peace…

Rowan pulled the horse to a stop, and I turned again in my seat to find him looking at me warily, his mouth a tight line.

“What?” I asked.