The Centaur Queen (The Dark Queens #7)(17)
She was scrabbling for purchase, her four hooves slipping and sliding in a thick bed of gravel. She clung to the small roots of a creeping pine, knuckles white and eyes panicked.
Rushing to her side, I moved to her hind end and pushed, wedging my hoof into the thick trunk of a weeping willow for better traction, knowing I would pay dearly for it. The leaves literally cried tears of bitter sap that stung the flesh and burrowed through me like writhing magma worms, making me hiss and bear down on my back teeth with grim determination.
We both grunted as we slowly and carefully maneuvered her out of the death trap. By the time she’d moved past it, her hair was clinging to her forehead and she was gasping for breath. A pink tint bloomed high on her cheeks.
“A trap, no doubt,” she panted, coming to the same conclusion I had as she tightly gripped the low-hanging branch of another weeping willow. The whites of her eyes were large and wide. She didn’t even flinch when the sap burned her flesh raw. I knew then that the brave centaur was capable of feeling fear. Not once in the games had she evinced any sort of weakness.
Flooded by a feeling of overwhelming relief that she was safe, my hands trembled as without thought, I ran them down the smooth, but dirty coat of her hind leg, over and over, more to soothe me than her. Her muscles were twitchy and jumpy beneath my callused palms.
We both stood like that for what felt like forever, but could have been only mere seconds, before I finally sensed her begin to settle down. The white-knuckled grip she held on the branch loosened noticeably, until she was able to release it completely.
Long fingers strumming nervously against her breastbone, Ty looked around, then back down where we’d come from, before turning again to me. “The sun sets in an hour. I am holding us back. My hooves cannot navigate this terrain.”
I almost told her it wasn’t true, but that was a lie, and centaurs never enjoyed hearing cavalier platitudes, unlike nymphs who wanted always to believe they were perfect in all ways. Tymanon knew her strengths, but she was also confident enough to recognize her weaknesses. So I bit my tongue.
Satyrs had gripping hooves. We were built for this type of terrain. Centaurs were built for speed. It’d been all I could do earlier to keep up with her. But now it was she, and not I, who struggled.
I glanced up the rock face. We still had another thousand or so feet to go. Not much in terms of distance, but the constant upward trek coupled with the hard terrain meant we could be in very big trouble.
The trail wasn’t just winding. There were hundreds of paths carved into the very foundation of the rock by millions of travelers over the years. This particular path I’d quite literally stumbled upon the last time I’d come through here, as though very few had ever found it. If I wasn’t vigilant, I’d miss the turn off, and we’d wind up headed toward the very heart of the stone dwarf’s stronghold. And that would be the end of us.
We had an hour left of sunlight and not much time to decide.
“What do you want to do?” I asked her. I wanted to push forward, but not if it endangered her. We’d find another way. My heart sank, because I could think of no other paths that would shield us half as well as this one. But Ty’s safety was paramount and superseded anything else.
Still breathing heavy, she shoved sweaty strands of hair behind her ears. Dainty, pretty little ears she had, unlike my own large ones. Funny how I’d never noticed how ungainly and awkward I was until I’d spent time in the company of a creature far larger than myself. And yet it was I and not she who I felt was clumsy in their skin. I knew my looks were nothing to make hearts flutter, and yet I’d never felt ugly before. Nymphs were made to desire us above all else. Centaurs were not.
I froze in my petting of her, only just realizing I hadn’t stopped once I’d started. I found myself reluctant to pull away from her completely. Touching Ty was intoxicating.
She said, “There is no choice but to press on. It’s already taken us two hours to get to this spot. We cannot tarry long in stone dwarf country, exposed as we are. Are you certain the area you take us to is safe?”
I shuddered as I forced myself to break contact with her. The moment I did, I waged war within myself, wanting to touch her some more, wanting to hold her, to caress her, to assure myself again that she was safe now, that she was okay. Gods above!
She cocked her head, still waiting on my answer.
I forced the words past my numb lips. “Aye, or at least it was,” I said, voice thick and gravelly. “The waters there are bitter. No life grows and nothing cares to stay for long. There were no tracks of anything recent having passed through there last time I was there. It’s the safest waypoint for us.”
Her jaw set. “Then we go. But I cannot continue on four legs. I’m far too clumsy and broad for these narrow passes.”
It took me only a second to understand what she meant to do. I stepped back as Tymanon glowed with a wash of golden power. Shielding my eyes against the brightness, I thought I was prepared to see her like that again, thought it would be nothing. I’d seen her once already. Beauty was beauty. A satyr’s attention didn’t last long. We’d been created with the innate desire to spread our seed far and wide, and to never tarry long at the side of any one nymph. And yet when she stepped forward, moving on two legs, my knees grew weak and my heart quite literally skipped a beat.
Ty kicked out one leg and I couldn’t help but let my gaze wander down the supple, strong length of it, imagining for just a moment what those legs might feel like wrapped around me, how she’d sound during the throes of passion, what she’d look like.