Storm's Heart (Elder Races #2)(96)

He flew several miles ahead of the party, and then he scouted to either side and took a look at their rear flank just to be safe. All was peaceful and well in the countryside. There were no sneaky faeries lying in wait. Niniane was safe. She might not be happy yet, but she would be one day. He swore he would make that happen. For now it was enough that she was safe and riding a pretty horse on a sunny cool afternoon with old friends surrounding her.

He dared to relax, just for a little while. The sharp wind blew. It lifted him high where the air was thin and sounded a mournful, endless song. The lustrous sun blazed with a greater clarity than he had seen in far too long, and the shimmering land magic rose to greet him as he soared, his great wings outspread.

And it was so blessed quiet.

SEVENTEEN

After his scouting venture, Tiago rejoined the party looking refreshed and invigorated. Niniane’s spirits took an upward surge as she watched him approach. He was a superb horseman. His black-clad figure astride the huge dappled gray gelding was eye-catching as they moved across the land with power and grace. He was easily the largest male of the group. The Dark Fae males who reached his height had lean whipcord strength, but they appeared willowy and almost effeminate by comparison.

Tiago approached to check on her welfare, his dark gaze searching her features as she smiled at him. His Power enfolded her in a brief, vibrant, invisible caress. Then he took his leave again. He consulted with Arethusa, collected three soldiers and went ahead on the road.

Then the party reached a bend in a wide shallow river, where Arethusa called a halt for the day. The area had been used several times as a campsite, and the underbrush had already been cleared away. Tiago and his group of soldiers were gathering kindling and chopping wood, so setting up camp became an easy chore for the new arrivals. The temperature began a sharp drop as the sun moved low in the sky. There would be a hard frost that night. Soon several large campfires were set and blazing.

Many of the party had modern nylon domed tents, but Niniane’s tent was a large, luxurious Dark Fae construction, warmed by woolen carpets and sectioned into two rooms by heavy, embroidered wall hangings. The outer sitting room had pillows, two cushioned wooden chairs, lamps and a campfire ring, where a small fire in a brazier chased away the damp and the chill. The second room contained her bed, a stool and a small travel desk, her saddlebags, another lamp that hung from a hook on a metal pole and the two trunks that contained her belongings. There was also, a Dark Fae female soldier informed her, a brass tub. If her highness would like, water could be heated for a hot bath.

Niniane almost groaned out loud when she heard. She and Cameron had hobbled into her tent to collapse in the chairs. They were among the worst off in the group. She didn’t know if the Vampyre’s human attendants also suffered. Cameron was a fit athlete but had never before ridden a horse for hours on end, and it had been many years since Niniane had.

“Is our pain that obvious?” Niniane asked. Cameron had sunk low in her chair and gave her a dour look.

“Yes, ma’am,” said the female soldier. The other Dark Fae female’s face remained impassive, but her gray eyes smiled in sympathy.

Niniane said, “I would be most grateful for a hot bath. Cam?”

“I don’t have a firstborn,” said Cameron. “But you can have mine if I ever do.”

“We will heat water,” said the soldier.

Soon she and two other soldiers brought in the brass hip tub and filled it with pails of steaming water. Niniane stripped without ceremony or self-consciousness and collapsed into the bath. As she soaked, Cameron brought her Aleve and hot spiced cider. Twenty minutes later she dried and dressed in fresh jeans and sweater. She was still sore, but at least she could move with more freedom. She left the other woman to soak and stepped out of the tent.

After the warmth of her tent, the air felt sharp and bracing. The camp had become well established. Her tent was in the most protected area, surrounded by others on all sides and well lit by campfires. The sun had dropped below the tree line. The rich evening light was beginning to fade. It had become diffuse enough that the Vampyres were able to shed their protective clothing.

Aryal sat on a log at the campfire in front of Niniane’s tent, tending several rabbits she roasted on spits over the fire. A couple of nylon coolers were stacked near her long, lean legs. Rune stood near the harpy, his hands on his hips, as he watched the activity around the other fires. Tiago would be around somewhere, Niniane knew, but she couldn’t see him at the moment, and his bag was nowhere in sight. Niniane frowned, crossed her arms and tapped her foot, thinking.

Rune caught sight of her. “Hey, pip-squeak. We’ve got supper here if you’re feeling hungry. There’s the fancy stuff in the coolers, and Aryal wanted fresh, hot meat.”

“About fifteen more minutes and the rabbit will be done,” Aryal said.

“Thanks. Where’s Tiago?”

Rune said in her head, He’s been interacting with the troops, working to build a rapport. They seem to like him. I think he’s trying to get Arethusa to loosen up. She said she would share whatever she found out on her end of the investigation, but then she went tight-mouthed on us. Maybe he can get her to talk.

She nodded and frowned at the leaping flames of the campfire. All she wanted was to take a seat at the campfire, relax her aching body among friends and stay in the protected bubble that had been created for her, but she knew she needed to reach out to the Dark Fae as much as Tiago, if not more. She looked up at Rune, “I should tour the camp.”