Page 13 of Queen of War and Ruin

“Course you do,” Toth grunts. “Fucking idiots.”

With that, he turns and walks back toward his group. Lilias follows, leading her mare. I catch up to her.

“I’m a farrier?” I whisper.

“You are,” she replies. “Don’t worry. I’ll tell you what to do.”

“Great,” I mutter, watching the hard eyes of the smugglers as they turn to meet us.

Chapter 7

Zarek

LOOK BUSY

“That stallion is going to be a problem,” Lilias whispers.

She’s bent over the back leg of the gray horse, frowning at the hoof I’m holding in my lap. The smugglers are spread out on the grass, having a picnic while we do whatever it is farriers do. The horses Lilias and I rode from Dungal are grazing amicably, but the smugglers’ stallion, the one who did the little dance, is snorting and pawing the grass nervously on the other side of the road. He’s tied to one of the carts, but honestly, I don’t think that would stop him if he decided to go on a murder spree.

Lilias nods. “Give me your dagger. The small one.”

I reach into my vest and hand her my small dagger. Lilias runs the blade along the edge of the horse’s hoof with a frown.

“You really need a rasp for this,” she mutters.

The bright edge of my dagger flashes in the sun as Lilias peels away little flecks of hoof.

“This will solve the problem?” I whisper.

Lilias looks up at me, her smile as bright as the edge of my dagger.

“Not a chance,” she says. “If this old mare had been limping, we’d be in trouble.”

She bends back over the hoof as I slowly start to understand what she means.

“You were bluffing,” I say.

She grins, and I look away as that familiar heat rushes to a place that’s uncomfortably close to a very large animal’s hoof. And to my dagger.

“I don’t think Toth knows a thing about horses,” Lilias whispers.

“And the harnesses?” I whisper. “For the oxen?”

“Just fine,” she replies, as she peels a long, white curl from the horse’s hoof. “But clearly he didn’t know that.”

She leans back, then wipes her forehead. She’s pulled her hair back into a loose braid, and a few strands dance around her flushed cheeks.

“You lied your way in,” I say. “Princess, I’m impressed.”

“Well, I am married to the snake of Vsenrog,” she replies.

She smiles at me, proud, beautiful, and streaked with dust from the road that runs through the ruins of Dungal, holding my dagger in her hand after fooling a man who appears to be a practiced con artist.

I have never wanted to kiss anyone as much as I want to kiss my wife right now.

I clear my throat, and the horse shifts above me in a way that makes me very nervous.

“Can I put this thing down?” I ask, glancing at the massive hoof in my lap.