A Thief of Nightshade(59)

“I wasn’t going to,” she said softly.

“You could tell him the—”

“I’ll tell him when he’s had a chance to cool off.” Given ran her hands through her tangled hair, then added under her breath, “If I’m lucky, he’ll listen.”

She’d lied to them. She’d lied to him.

A Princess, yet she dressed in armor that obviously wasn’t borrowed. It fit her too well. Her leather tunic covered her like a glove and the way her guards were fastened at her shins and knees did nothing but accentuate her figure. The same held true for her arm plates, which revealed how slender but defined her arms were.

He’d been too consumed by the idea of what she was, whether it was prostitute or Shade, to take note of what was plainly in front of his face. He’d seen her beauty.

He’d imagined a trace of shyness in her spirit, but he’d missed the fierceness beneath it all. She wore her attire like she’d worn it all her life; like she wore deception, easily and like a second skin.

Just like Merrial.

It wasn’t long before they found the horses. Aislinn dreaded following along behind them, like an animal, as they rode ahead of him.

Ian pulled a small brushed-suede pouch from his belt and tossed it to Given.

“It won’t last long, but it will free him from his curse long enough to get him where we need to be.”

Given opened the pouch and pulled from it a small round apothecary disc with a tiny cork in the end.

“Don’t ask how I got it.” Ian pulled himself into his saddle.

Given kneeled down in front of him and took the cork from the bottle. “Do I have to use all of it?”

“Yes.”

She poured the liquid into his mouth.

Aislinn noted, as she tucked it away into her pocket, that she had saved some of it.

Aislinn immediately felt the same shifting sensation that he’d felt coming out of the looking glass and closed his eyes to slow the spinning of his vision. After a few moments, the feeling subsided and he was able to stand uncertainly on his feet.

And unlike when he was in the mirror, his metallic limb remained, though he had a modicum of gratitude that it had shifted forms with him and looked like it would function like a normal arm and hand. He flexed his fingers, or he supposed Given had done that for him, seeing as she was controlling everything but his breathing.

Even that was speculation.

She took a deep breath before mounting her horse and willing him to get on behind her. He, by no choice of his own, wrapped his arms around her as he settled in. He could tell she was uncomfortable with him riding as close to her as he was and this gave Aislinn back some small measure of dignity. He felt just a little more in control. At least he thought he did.

Tentatively, she laid her arm across his, pressing her palm to the back of his hand in something of a rueful gesture. At least, he presumed that to be her intention.

That wasn’t its effect. At all. The very feel of her arm warmly against his made him lose his breath and for once in his life, he was grateful to have no will of his own.

And that’s when he noticed, or rather, remembered her wounds. She wasn’t uncomfortable because she feared him, nothing of the sort. He realized, as she had to lean partially back against him, that the pain she bore on Aubrey’s behalf would have progressed since he last saw her and she was in pain then, though she’d done everything she could not to let it show. This made Aislinn angrier because he simply couldn’t understand it. Why would she do such a selfless thing, only to turn around and hand Aubrey over to Saralia? That thought and the feel of Given in his arms fueled his quickly rising temper as they rode.

They rode for hours. He hadn’t been in his own form in so long that his muscles were exhausted faster than had he been in good shape. His back felt strained and sore, his arms stretched taut and weak. He wasn’t aware of any outward signs of his weariness, but Given slowed her mount to a trot.

“We need rest.” She practically fell out of the saddle and after willing Aislinn to follow suit and sit with his back against a tree, she crawled to lay face-down on a patch of moss.

Ian

didn’t

dismount

and

sat

arrogantly looking down at them instead.

“You made the choice to cast the suffrage spell. You need to understand the consequences of your actions. Besides, Agincourt is only half an hour’s ride at best and I have urgent business to attend to.”

Agincourt? Aislinn wanted to ask so badly, but without free will he could only listen.

Given looked like she couldn’t move even if she tried, but she managed to laugh at Ian. She coughed, clearly regretting the choice, but struggled through it and laughed some more.

“I don’t quite see the humor in this,”

Ian said tersely.

“Well, you’ve never seen the humor in much of anything. Ride home on your own. I know you are in no mood for this and we both know I can handle myself.”

“And have his Majesty ask why I felt it appropriate to leave his beloved niece with a creature who could easily kill her should that spell weaken any further. And have you given any thought to the spell wearing off before you get home?”

Aislinn

was

still

pissed,

but

strangely, hearing Ian voice him as a threat to Given offended him.