Storm's Heart (Elder Races #2)(107)

She filled a metal pot with water and set it on the brazier to boil. Then Rune and Aryal took their leave to wash and change into clean clothes and, as Rune said, prepare for mass consternation and misbehavior. They each gave Niniane a hard hug. “See you at the other end,” said Rune.

“Be careful,” she told him.

“You too, pip-squeak.” He smiled and touched her nose.

When it was her turn to say good-bye, Aryal said, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

Niniane opened and closed her mouth. She said, “I have no idea how to respond to that.”

“Yeah, well.” Aryal’s hug lifted her off her feet. Then the harpy followed Rune out.

The water in the pot boiled. She set about the comforting, familiar routine of making coffee while Cameron ate everything left on the plate. Niniane tried to drink her coffee but it was too hot. She had a sense of time flashing by too fast as it raced toward an inevitable, deadly foreign place, like a curtain of water that spilled over a waterfall to shatter on jagged rocks. Her hands shook as she added cold water from a canteen to the steaming brew so she could drink the contents down.

Cameron did the same with her coffee. As the other woman drained her cup, Durin said from outside the tent, “Your highness.”

“Come in, Durin,” she said.

He lifted the flap and looked in at them both, his expression grave. “It is time to leave.”

“All right.” She stood, and Cameron grabbed her sword in its scabbard and shrugged into the shoulder harness.

Dawn had come and gone. In the full light of morning the area sparkled with melting frost. The area stirred with restlessness. Niniane could hear the jingle of horse harnesses and raised voices coming from the troops’ area of the encampment. Durin stepped close so that Niniane was sandwiched between him and Cameron. He gestured to one side of her tent, opposite the direction of the troops. Cameron frowned, and Niniane looked at him in quick inquiry. “The troops are garnering a lot of attention from the others,” Durin said rapidly in a low-toned voice. “We thought it would be faster and quieter to take you out this way. We must move quickly now.”

She nodded and turned in the direction he indicated. Cameron put a hand to Niniane’s back and turned with her, and Niniane felt the other woman’s hand clench in a fist in the material of her sweater. Cameron threw her hard.

Wait, what?

Niniane stumbled forward, trying in vain to correct her balance as she bounced off the taut material of the tent wall. Then she reached the dipping point and fell forward. She tucked her shoulder as she had been taught, hit the ground and rolled. As she fell, she heard a ringing metallic noise that was the sound of swords clashing. Her mind still stuttering, she came up on her hands and knees. She spun around to look.

Cameron and Durin were fighting. Cameron shifted to block the Dark Fae male’s sword thrust. Cameron’s movements were athletic and confident, but Durin moved with such deadly, accomplished style and grace, it was clear the human woman was hopelessly outmatched. Cameron said to her, “Run.”

She jumped to her feet, staring as she backed up.

An arm hooked around her neck, and she felt the cold, hard edge of a knife at her jugular. The blade bit into her skin. The sting came a moment later, and she felt the wet trickle of blood.

“I might have known,” Naida said in her ear. “Nothing’s gone right since you crawled out of the woodwork.”

Ah damn.

Durin surged forward, his sword flashing in a complicated series of movements, and Cameron’s sword went flying. She spun and kicked, but he lunged forward, too close for her to land a proper blow. At the same time he reversed his hold on his sword and slammed the hilt into her jaw. Cameron dropped without a sound.

“Keep your hands where I can see them.” The warmth of Naida’s breath tickled her ear. “I have no intention of letting you poison me like you did Geril and his friends.”

She held her hands up. Naida turned her around and marched her rapidly toward the edge of camp. Durin fell into place beside them. He kept his sword unsheathed as he looked around them with sharp eyes. She gritted, “I can’t believe nobody is seeing this.”

“They’re all arguing and watching the soldiers prepare to leave,” Naida said. Within moments they reached the edge of the clearing, and Naida forced her to move faster until they were running. Naida said to Durin, “What is taking so long?”

“Ryle can’t get to the Chancellor,” the captain said. “The Wyr bitch is watching him too closely.”

Who was Ryle? Not one of the soldiers. One of Naida and Aubrey’s attendants? Niniane’s gaze slid sideways to Durin. The Dark Fae male’s face was bleak.

I have killed someone I liked before, Carling had said. I have killed someone and felt regret.

“You did it,” she said to him. “You killed Arethusa. She was your commanding officer. She trusted you, and you killed her. How could you?”

Durin’s red-rimmed gaze flashed to her, then he looked away.

“He did it for the greater good,” Naida said. They came to four tethered horses that were bridled but not saddled. Naida jerked Niniane to a halt. “Keep your hands up.” She said to Durin, “Search her for weapons.”

Durin sheathed his sword and ran his hands over Niniane. He was as fast and expert in searching her as he was in doing everything else. She sighed as he took her stilettos from her pocket. He tucked the small sheathed knives inside his shirt. When she was disarmed Durin tied her hands behind her back with a strip of leather as she looked at Naida for the first time.