Hunter's Season (Elder Races #4.7)(27)

She was an assassin, and she had survived not only in Urien’s palace for decades, but she had also survived Thruvial’s household. Yet with him, she did not barrier any part of herself or use the many tools that must exist in her repertoire. Instead she revealed to him a heart of glass, fragile and beautifully faceted in every way, luminous with light.

He could not remember ever feeling so touched, or so honored.

“Come,” she said. “I’ll show you my favorite spot by the river. We can even fish if you want. I like fish for breakfast.”

“So do I,” he told her.

He got dressed fully, pulling on a shirt and boots. The day was fine enough again that no jacket was necessary. He tied his hair back with the leather strip, and splashed his face with water from the basin.

She had braided back her hair and gathered a basket of fishing supplies from a bottom shelf. As soon as he gave her a nod, she lifted her sword and harness from the hook by the door, although she did not bother to shrug it on.

He took the basket so it would free one of her hands then he captured it with his own, lacing his fingers through hers. Giving him a gleaming, bright smile, she led him on a pleasant walk to the river.

Their route bisected a large path that was more of a small road that followed the river’s length. Now that he knew where the river was, he knew the path would lead to Adriyel, but he no longer cared to follow it. They settled in the shade of a massive oak tree.

Adriyel was the great river in the Dark Fae land. It poured hundreds of leagues through the heart of the land. The bank on the opposite side was certainly visible, but the details were obscured in the distance. It was treacherous to swim the long length from one side to the other, but every year some fools attempted it. Many were swept downstream and drowned.

Here, down a steep bank from the oak, there was an indentation with a relatively shallow pool. Smiling, she pointed down to it. “This was my favorite place in the heat of the summer, although my father never took his eyes off of me for a moment, for fear I would forget and get too close to the river’s current.”

“This must have been a great place to play as a child,” he said.

“It was. We were happy.” She lifted a shoulder. “I remember us being happy, at any rate. I’m sure he missed my mother, but she died in childbirth with me, so I never knew her. He was my only parent as a child growing up.”

That would have made losing him especially hard for her. Dark Fae could live for a very long time, but there were still accidents, war and certain diseases that could claim lives. Long, long ago, his own parents had been taken in a virulent epidemic that had swept through their home seat in the country.

She sprawled with her long legs crossed at the ankle. He braced himself against the trunk of the oak to go through a round of stretching exercises. She watched closely, and offered some suggestions. Afterward, he lay beside her on the thick, rich grass of the bank, hands laced behind his neck as they talked.

Neither bothered to reach for the fishing basket. They were too focused on each other to care. The sunlight turned the green oak leaves golden, and a fresh cool breeze blew off river. Sexual arousal and affection blanketed them together in warmth and comfort, and imbued him with a sense of wellbeing.

They both heard the voices at the same time.

Male voices, approaching in their direction.

“It must be around here somewhere,” said one. “This is the area they said. Just a bit further, maybe around that bend.”

“Well, we’ve got to continue,” said another. “There’s no going back now.”

Even as Aubrey sat up, Xanthe threw herself on him, one hand clamped over his mouth. She stared into his eyes, her own gaze sharp and steady.

“Don’t make a sound”, she told him telepathically.

He nodded as he clasped her wrist. “I understand.”

“I am going to check where they are.” She rolled off of him and to her feet in one silent, lithe movement, scooping up her sword and harness as she rose. She shrugged it on quickly, her expression as keen as the blade that settled between her shoulders. She glanced down at him and touched a finger to her lips. He nodded again, and she disappeared through the waist high grass that bordered the path.

He rolled to his feet, not nearly as gracefully as she, as his wretched back muscles threatened to seize up again. After a second’s consideration, he snatched up the fishing basket, not because the contents mattered so much as leaving it on the bank would have given away their presence. When he noticed the indentation their bodies had made in the grass, he wiped the area back and forth with one boot until the marks were gone.

By then Xanthe was back. She had drawn her sword. She gestured to him with her free hand. “Come on, we must go this way.”

She led him on a different, more difficult route than they had taken earlier, further upstream for a while before they cut back across the path, and through a tangled, overgrown thicket, until finally they arrived back at the cottage.

As soon as they stepped inside, she grabbed her wrist guards that held throwing knives and began to strap them on.

“I need to follow them and discover what they’re up to,” she said, in a rapid, quiet voice. “It’s possible their presence doesn’t have anything to do with us, but we need to know if they’re hunting you. As soon as I leave, I want you to bolt the door and the windows. Don’t answer if anyone knocks. There are the kitchen knives if you need weapons. I’ll return as fast as I can.”