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I crash into him, and we become a confused jumble of arms and hands hampered by his bound wrists. Eventually, he pries me off enough to slip his cuffed wrists over my head and, finally, holds me tight. I gulp down his scent. “Tell me everything will be okay.”
“It’s going to be okay, lass. I promise.”
I don’t know if he is lying to me, if he even knows how this might fall, or if he is merely responding to my demand for assurance.
It doesn’t matter. I believe him, and that will get me through this.
Then he surprises me by setting me at arm’s length and winking as he nods at me. “Aye, that’s a fancy dress.”
I give him a withering look even as my lips twitch.
He smirks.
“Please don’t throw me in the river.”
His smirk blooms into a smile as he draws me back into his arms. “It was a stream and ankle deep, and I wouldn’t dream of it.”
There is something deeply perfect about this easy conversation, for with those words, I know events have neither damaged him nor me, and somehow, everything will be alright.
In the distance, a deep, resonant drum begins to beat.
“That is the centaur drums, sire,” someone says. “I am not well versed in the meaning behind them, but I believe they came here with war in mind and are rousing themselves to that course. If I might encourage everyone to mount so we can proceed with the parlay.”
I feel Aston’s lips curve into a smile as they press against my hair before he draws me away.
He pins the guard with a glare when he steps forward like he might take me in hand. “I will help her on the fucking horse.” He walks me to my horse, lifts me up, and places the reins in my hands. Then, he stalks back to his horse, the soldiers taking hasty steps out of his path, seeming relieved that he gives them no trouble.
He is such a barbarian, I think with no small amount of pride.
The call comes to ride. We move off at a brisk trot: the king, his advisors. Two guards at the front bearing his standard, and a dozen more who flank our sides and the rear as we trot through the cobbled streets of Pershore, out the city gates, and into the broad grassy plains, dusted with snow, that run between the city walls and the forest.
Here, I see the armies for the first time, and my breath catches in my throat. The standard of the Baxter clan as well of other clans I do not know. Men, barbarians, and shifters… and indeed, there are proud spear-wielding centaurs too.
As we approach, a smaller retinue breaks away from the mass, riding out to a midway point between the city and the armies.
Here we meet.
* * *
We dismount a small distance apart. The guards try to separate Aston and me but give up the idea when Aston issues a warning growl. Comforted by his presence at my side, my eyes search the small crowd for signs of Lor, my heart lifting as I spot his dark head and find his eyes already on me.
Then my hackles rise as I notice the pretty woman with long red hair at his side. Princess Penelope has quite a reputation in the city and is every bit as beautiful and formidable as rumors portray.
I am mollified when I see that Lor is looking at me and, further, Penelope cannot keep her eyes off our clan king, Alfred.
Aston and I are instructed to remain a small way back as Louie and his advisor approach the Baxter clan king.
I have seen Alfred several times during my visits, although I have never spoken to him. A veritable giant at seven feet tall, he carries a huge ax at his hip and wears an expression that says he’s more than happy to use it.
I’m reminded of my earliest impressions of the clans, how they are warm, friendly people, unless you wrong them—wronging a barbarian is a very bad idea.
Alfred starts the negotiations by stating in a deep rumble, “So, you came to your senses, then.”
Louie, the head of one of the largest Hydornian kingdoms, does not appear cowed by the giant before him. “You have my wayward daughter,” he states dryly. “A man, be he king or otherwise, knows when he is outmaneuvered. Also, war is inconvenient and costly. If I’m going to spend money, I’d sooner have a shipment of Maldorian wine.”
“Aye,” Alfred confirms. “I can relate to that.”
“My daughter is well, I presume?”
