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“And what is that, Ard Tiarna? Will you marry my daughter and make me grandbabies with your paired physiques?” He cast a lecherous, joking grin up to his daughter. “A child with his shoulders and your fair face? We would carve bloody rivers across the whole of Magh Meall.”

Grimhand chuckled with her father, but I didn’t miss the slight glint of restrained interest in her grey eyes.

“No, my lord. Alas, I am otherwise spoken for.” I inclined my head in apology to Grimhand, and she returned the gesture, mirth still flashing at the corner of her lips. “A chance to battle beside a Fae who burns from the tips of her ears to the roots of her magic like I have never seen before. A Fae that legends will be woven about. A Fae who has already defeated me in battle.”

Stormbeard snorted. “You ask me to do a favor for you, and the payment is the opportunity to be an unpaid mercenary? I see the Siur Dobh on your fingers, Ard Tiarna. I would suggest you set the resin aside. It has eaten at your mind too much.”

I leaned forward. “She is a Fae like no other, Stormbeard. Born in Human, brought in shackles, she is such a threat that the Ard Rí will declare a single Fae who liberated herself a threat to the realm worthy of being called folus fíodóir.”

Hushed intake of breath was my answer as I summoned from the depths of their cultural memory the one boogey man every Fae was afraid of. The one creature that had ever walked Magh Meall that every single Fae feared.

“Is she?”

I smiled, letting the mania of my love for her bleed into it. “No. But a Fae who has him so scared, with no allies, no kingdom, no weapons, and no crown to call upon, to declare her one? Imagine the kind of general she will make, leading your warriors into battle.”

Stormbeard was silent. Mace, behind him, mimicked his father. Grimhand, though, she understood what I was saying. “It would be the most glorious battle since the war with the dragons, father. The odds would be against us. We, the Flintback clan, would stand alone beside her and would be positioned as the greatest clan should we win. And if we lost? Songs would be sung about our last stand until no lips yet lived to sing them. True glory.”

Stormbeard considered what his daughter said, weighing it against his own wisdom and his own ageless lust for battle.

“Very well, Ard Tiarna. The Flintbacks will find the missing Árus Láigh.”

Chapter 25

Cricket

The disassembly of the camp didn’t take long. Before the sun was full in the sky, a wagon had been packed with all the gear, and soldiers were helping my friends onto saddled horses. I frowned as I watched the last horse tied to the back of the wagon and wondered if I’d be testing out my new satin slippers on our long trek. Worse had happened to me, and I’d gone at least two winters in Michigan with holes big enough to fit my thumb through the soles of my shoes.

I began walking down the line of the horses that shied away from Goose at my side. If we were headed out, it would be better to be at or near the head of the line, I guessed. I didn’t want to be covered in dust.

When the iron band of Brittle Spear’s leather-armor-clad arms surrounded me and pulled me back against the rigid frame of his body, I had been trying to figure out a way to keep the velvet dress out of the dirt and mud. A squeak of surprise slipped free of my control before I started thrashing.

“Calm yourself, Banfhlaith,” he purred into my ear. “I’ve been looking for you. Glad I found you before you got lost. Tsk, tsk. Wandering off. Come, you ride with me.”

I frowned up at him, disentangling myself from his limbs. “I can walk. Or there’s a perfectly good horse back there.”

“A shame, my dear, the poor thing has gone lame.” He affected a sulk, and I glared at him, before casting a glance over to the perfectly healthy and happy horse who was grazing on a feedbag hung from the back of a wagon.

“Is that so?”

“Sadly, yes, and I didn’t bring any spares at all. So, you will have to tolerate my presence.”

“That’s fine. I’ll walk.”

He grinned and scooped me up, ignoring my protests as he mounted the massive beast of a horse. “We couldn’t have a Banfhlaith walking the length of the journey, I’m afraid. It’s a dangerous ride after all.”

He situated me in front of him, my butt sliding back to nestle between his spread legs with nothing but the bulk of my dress to buffer our two bodies.

“This is ridiculous,” I complained, gripping the low rise of the saddle in front of me as the convoy of horses with Brittle Spear at its head began moving away from the scrabble of the crags and the hole I had fallen into.

“Ridiculous, but practical,” he rumbled into my ear in a low whisper that shot through me like fire licking at the dry grass surrounding us.

Little by little, Brittle Spear put distance between us and the rest of the group. It wasn’t enough for us to lose sight of or protection from them, but just enough so that our conversation would be private, and it felt like it was just the two of us wandering the wild land.

He shifted, dislodging the lump of velvet behind me, and slid me further into him. The heat of his body radiated up my back and pulsed against my ass as it nestled into him. The air grew heavy with tension as he gripped the reins tighter and closed the space between us.

“Br-Iron Thorn,” I whispered breathlessly as the hand that had dropped the length of leather guiding the horse came to rest under the curtain of my lavish gown on my bare thigh.

“Yes, Banfhlaith?” he asked as if nothing were amiss. As if his fingers weren’t kneading into my needy flesh and pricking tiny goose bumps all along my body.