Married by Treachery Read online

  She found the harness and bit beside the saddle, noting a number of broken stitches in the leather and a stress crack in the mouthpiece. She sighed. “Well, I don’t have time to fix all of this properly, but I can loosen the tension a bit to give you some relief. Does that sound all right?”

  “You know he can’t understand you, right?” Rian said over the stalls.

  “He understands more than you think,” Raquel replied, but as she turned, she spotted a little kith girl hovering behind a nearby post, watching her.

  It was one of the three from that night. One of the children that Raquel had run after.

  Thus caught, the little girl ducked out of sight. Raquel waited, hoping, perhaps, the little girl might make herself known, and then Raquel spotted movement above, in the loft amidst the hay bales.

  She didn’t turn to look this time but noted a small shadow up above, observing her from behind the hay. Curious.

  Raquel smiled to herself but got to work, feeling those eyes all the while. She slipped the saddle and harness on the horse, and she had just finished adjusting the bit when the child ducked away. The next second, she felt someone’s presence directly behind her.

  She didn’t appreciate the effect it had on her body.

  “You’ve collected an audience, I see,” Jake mused.

  “Yes,” she said, finishing one last adjustment. “Apparently, hard work is a rarity around here, and everyone gathers to watch.”

  He chuckled.

  Raquel looked back to see Jake leaning against the stable doors, his arms folded over his chest, his glamoured coat slung over one arm. Whatever had left him so uncharacteristically addled earlier was gone. His eyes were back to being warm as honey, and those full lips curved with something that made her heart stutter.

  “You saddled my horse?” he asked.

  She didn’t like the condescension in his voice. “And it’s a good thing too. Has no one ever taught you how to fit a harness?”

  “His harness is fine.”

  “For an amateur.”

  He smirked, pushed himself from the door, and approached, then stopped so close his arm brushed hers as he bent forward to check her work. He looked over all the straps and fastenings, standing far too close for Raquel’s comfort, but Raquel could not bring herself to step away.

  “You loosened the harness,” he said.

  “Yes, well, you’ve over-oiled the leather. The stitching is rotting out here and here”—she pointed to each in turn—“and then you overcompensated for this by tightening the straps, which has put undue pressure on the mouthpiece… see where it’s cracked?”

  Jake looked from the metal to her, and Raquel’s cheeks warmed.

  “Anyway, I don’t have time to fix it,” she continued, “but I’ve made adjustments that should keep dear Vizzi mostly comfortable. At least until we get to….where are we going?” She let her words dangle, hoping he’d answer.

  But he only stared at her, a glint in his eyes, as he said, “I see swordplay isn’t the only hobby you found.”

  “I was raised with horses. My father kept studs, and I often helped him break in the foals.”

  Still his eyes were on her, and Raquel’s heart beat an erratic rhythm in her ears.

  “There you are!” A woman’s voice slammed through the moment like a gavel.

  Jake abruptly stepped away from Raquel as a woman stepped into view. It was the same woman from the battle, the one Raquel had seen fighting beside Jake, and she was probably the most stunning woman Raquel had ever seen. Her long dark hair was plaited and draped over one shoulder, and she had the physique of a warrior but the grace of a queen, a strong nose and high cheekbones and eyes that cut like the blades she had wielded.

  “Sienne,” Jake said, and she stopped at attention a few paces before them.

  “You said ten minutes.”

  “And?”

  “It’s been twenty.”

  Jake raised his gaze to the rafters. “Meet my cousin, Sienne.”

  Sienne.

  Raquel’s lips parted, and she took a step toward the woman. “You’re the one who purged the Depraved poison from my veins.”

  Sienne leaned back as if overwhelmed—and maybe even spooked—by Raquel’s warmth and sincerity. Meanwhile, Jake looked as though he was fighting back a smile.

  “I am,” Sienne admitted, though both her tone and posture were careful. As if she feared that by speaking, she was entering into some agreement she wanted no part in.

  Regardless, Raquel extended her hand. “I wanted to thank you. For saving my life.”

  Sienne looked at Raquel’s hand, then her eyes. “You saved my daughter. We’re even.” Her gaze flickered absently to the loft, where Raquel knew a little girl was hiding, and then Sienne turned to Jake and said, “We are ready.”

  12

  “I must confess,” Jake said to Raquel as they rode a steady pace through the mist and trees. He sat behind her in the saddle, one arm wrapped around her waist, the other holding fast to Vizzi’s reins. “I am grieved to hear that my beloved bride finds her new kingdom…wanting.”

  He didn’t sound grieved in the slightest.

  “Grieved? Why, my dear prince, such feelings require a heart.” She eyed him over her shoulder, but he flashed that devastating grin, and she promptly looked ahead again. “And anyway, what does it matter what I think?”

  “What does it matter?” He feigned offense. “You are my bride, and nothing is more important to me than your happiness.”

  Raquel couldn’t help it. She laughed. So loudly, in fact, Banon glanced over at them from where he sat upon his own horse.

  Jake’s arm tightened around her waist, sending a little (and unfortunately pleasant) thrill through her body. Especially when his chest pressed to her back and he lowered his mouth to her ear and whispered, “I have something for you.”

  Before she could wonder or find the voice that had suddenly abandoned her, Jake presented a red rose.

  She stared at the flower, at this brilliant bolt of color made more vibrant amidst the surrounding grays. Its silken petals bloomed in full, and its sweet perfume filled her nose. She inhaled deep, in awe and in wonder, then caught herself.

  Jake’s coat had invoked senses as well.

  “Is this a glamour?” she asked.

  “No. Touch a thorn if you like. Glamour is uniquely persuasive, but I promise you it can’t draw blood.”

  She believed him. Then, “Where in the world did you find this?”

  “That, my bride, is a secret.” His voice was as silken as the petals.

  “Your entire life is a secret,” she managed.

  “Well, this little secret is yours.” He held the rose closer.

  She almost reached for it. “Why are you giving me this?”

  He chuckled. “Always so suspicious.”

  She glared back at him which—yet again—was a mistake. He was too close, and his arm still encircled her waist, and she could not look at him without thinking of last night. Of the look in his eyes when he’d nearly kissed her.

  “Is it too much to believe that I simply wish to court my bride?” he asked, as if taking great joy in her discomfiture.

  “Then where were these exemplary manners before?”

  “Do you mean when you were trying to murder me in my sleep? I have, on occasion, misinterpreted a woman’s feelings for me, but I didn’t think it a good idea to parry your blow with a flower.”

  Raquel grinned despite herself, and then he grabbed her hand and set the rose inside of it, careful so that the thorns did not prick her skin.

  Their gazes met.

  “Tell me you do not appreciate my gift,” he said. “Tell me, and I will take it back.” His words caressed her, and she could not—for the life of her—deny his gift.

  But then she remembered their conversation from the night before. When he’d said she drove a hard bargain. “I will not bargain for a kiss, my prince.”

  He smiled, all charm and i
nnocence. “This is no bargain, my bride. As I said: it is a gift.”

  “You told me life is a game; therefore, I am left to conclude that you do not give freely. There is a reason.”

  “You’re right.” Mischief danced in his eyes, but then he looked ahead to the mist and the trees.

  Raquel glanced down at her rose, swaying with Jake as they rode. She trailed her thumb over a little thorn and—ouch—yes, it was definitely real. She shoved her thumb in her mouth and sucked the fresh blood from her skin.

  “An expert with blades but can’t handle flowers…” Jake mused, and Raquel whacked him on the leg.

  Or tried to. He caught her wrist with those lightning-quick reflexes of his and examined her injured thumb.

  “It’s fine,” Raquel insisted. “It’s just a prick. Hardly anything to…”

  Her words evaporated as he pressed the pad of her thumb between his lips, right against his teeth. His eyes fixed on hers, dark as amber, and Raquel went rigid. Not because she was afraid or because she didn’t like it.

  But because she did.

  Far, far too much.

  The heat of his mouth was…oh, saints above, it was delicious. She could think of no other word, and when his tongue slid against the wound, her lips grew envious. Her entire body grew envious. His eyelids slid shut, but only for a moment, and when he opened them again, they looked hazy with sleep, or maybe too much wine. He dragged his mouth away from her thumb and asked, “Better…?”

  Raquel swallowed, feeling flush all over as she looked at her thumb. The little prick was nowhere to be found.

  He put his mouth to her ear and said, “I told you it was real.”

  Raquel was not so sure what they were talking about anymore, but Jake turned his attention back to their journey and said something to Banon about altering course, and Raquel sat quietly with her very confusing thoughts.

  What in the blazes was going on? She’d been so resolved this morning. So resolved to be patient and learn everything she could while traveling with Jake so that when the opportunity arose, she could sneak away and seek her vengeance on the man who deserved it—Edom. Every moment between here and then was simply a means of reaching that aim. It was her own sort of game. There was no room in that game for romantic detours, no matter how delicious they seemed to be.

  Especially with the man who had abducted her!

  She had half a mind to toss his rose into the wood, but then she thought Jake’s entourage might consider it a sign of disrespect toward their venerated prince, and also, it was too pretty. It seemed wasteful to sacrifice such rare beauty to a rotten wood, so she kept the rose and secured it to the ties of her corset where she’d previously kept a blade.

  The hours passed on, and the mist did not relent. However, Jake kept a steady pace, guiding their company through a maze Raquel could not unravel. It all looked the same to her. Hazy fog and spindly black trees with the occasional cry of a Depraved, and she was very thankful for Jake’s expert navigation. She would not have made it through this wood otherwise.

  There were nearly three dozen in their company: seven from the outpost, but the rest had come with Sienne. From scattered conversation, Raquel had learned that Jake meant to keep the bulk of his forces in Little Mignon—the outpost—but those he’d left behind would follow once he gave the signal, whatever that was. A few of Sienne’s company had stayed back as well, including the three children. Why Sienne had brought them at all, Raquel couldn’t get a clear answer, but Sienne seemed relieved that they were there.

  Jake was just guiding Vizzi up the steep slope of a dried riverbed when Raquel pointed to a large mass atop the ground a few dozen paces away and asked, “What is that?”

  Jake followed her finger with his eyes, and then he drew Vizzi up short.

  “We stopping for the night?” Banon asked, coming to a halt behind them. “Because my arse is starting to hurt, and—”

  Jake raised a hand, and Banon stopped talking.

  “Wait here,” Jake said to Raquel, and he dismounted.

  “Excuse me,” she snapped, swinging her leg over and jumping down from the saddle. “But I am the one who saw it, and you can’t expect—”

  Jake covered her mouth with his hand, and his expression warned. He glanced pointedly to the trees above, to the branches swaying strangely in a breeze that wasn’t there, and he looked directly back at her, his meaning clear: Be quiet.

  She glowered at him.

  He gave her another very pointed look, this one asking: If I remove my hand, will you cooperate?

  She answered with a look of her own that said: Yes, but I’m not climbing back in that saddle.

  Jake sighed, resigned, then pulled his hand away. Satisfied that she wasn’t going to argue, he gestured at Banon and walked on while the rest of their company slowly caught up.

  Raquel licked her lips and followed after Jake. She’d made it halfway to the mound when she froze in her tracks.

  It was a stag with a very impressive spread of antlers.

  A chill swept over her skin, head to toe. The stag lay on the ground panting, each breath a struggle, and pain shone in its large round eyes.

  Half of its flesh had been eaten away.

  Raquel stared in horror. This was even worse than her dream. It looked as though the stag were being eaten alive, its body consumed by some pitch-like black substance that had already eaten through two of its legs to the bone and left half of its ribcage exposed to the elements.

  Almighty in heaven…

  Jake dropped to his knees on the ground, a somber set to his shoulders.

  In a flash, Raquel saw the Jake in her dreams. The one with his head bent and vulnerability spilling down his cheeks. However, this time, Banon was there, and this Jake was not crying.

  But there was a deep and touching sadness in his eyes.

  Raquel resisted the urge to go to him as Dream Raquel had done. Her dreams were always different. Sometimes showing events as they had or would happen. Sometimes showing poetic interpretations of a moment.

  This was obviously the latter.

  She watched Jake as he placed his palms to the stag’s exposed ribs, as he slid them tenderly along the stag’s spine, murmuring things Raquel could not hear. A creak overhead drew her attention to the trees, where those branches grew bolder, searching and reaching like serpents, as if seizing an opportunity.

  Jake’s head was still bowed, and Banon did not notice.

  “Jake,” Raquel said quietly, not wanting to disrupt this moment and whatever Jake was doing but also needing to get his attention.

  Those branches reached lower, curling and twisting like vines. Something snagged her hair.

  She jumped away and shrieked, “Jake!”

  Jake looked back at her, his eyes widened then narrowed, and he thrust his palm forward. A burst of air blasted forth, scattering dead needles and leaves until it pushed right over Raquel with so much force that her braid whipped straight back like a golden pendant.

  There was a soft, keening hiss, like hot embers doused with water, and all of those reaching branches snapped back to their proper places.

  Jake stared hard at her, as if checking for signs of injury. Satisfied, he looked back to the stag.

  Raquel let out a shuddering breath and approached.

  If Jake heard her, he didn’t show it. His hands were on the stag, his eyes closed as he murmured strings of words in a language Raquel did not know but found beautiful. A grim Banon stood over them, his eyes now trained on the trees, but when Raquel neared, he acknowledged her with a stiff nod.

  Jake stopped murmuring, and Raquel felt a sudden ripple of power. A push of warmth and heat and energy. The stag fell still, finally at peace, its eyes staring blankly, its head slumped.

  Jake bowed his head, and he didn’t move.

  Banon turned away, caught Raquel’s gaze, and gestured for her to follow. To leave Jake alone, to give him space. Raquel glanced at the others, then back at Jake, at the cursed s
tag lying dead on the ground at Jake’s knees.

  I cannot stop it.

  Raquel slipped the rose from her corset, stepped around Jake, and lay the rose upon the stag.

  When she glanced back, Jake’s eyes were open and fixed upon her.

  She opened her lips to say something, to bring comfort as Dream Raquel would have done, but she was not Dream Raquel, and he was not Dream Jake, and so she closed her mouth instead, letting the rose give all the comfort her words could not. She started back for the group, but as she passed Jake by, he grabbed her hand and held it tight.

  She glanced down at him, and he looked up at her, his eyes darker than she had ever seen.

  “Thank you,” he whispered.

  Raquel’s heart melted a little.

  She nodded once, he released her hand, and she walked on, back to the others, while trying not to dwell on all her other dreams of him.

  The dreams of things yet to come.

  13

  Jake didn’t stop Vizzi again until the sun set. It had been a quiet ride after the stag. Its death loomed like a dark cloud over them all, following them through the mist and trees. Raquel wanted to ask. She wanted so badly to know what that black substance was, how the stag had been infected, and why. And what Jake had done to let it pass in peace.

  But she didn’t.

  Jake sat so rigidly behind her that she worried any conversation might make him crack. Might fracture his resolve and his composure, and though this Raquel did not mind if it shattered him to pieces, Dream Raquel would not allow it.

  Actually, that wasn’t quite true. This Raquel did mind, and that bothered her most of all.

  They did not cross any other creatures, unless one counted a centipede. A forest of this size should have been a refuge for any number of wildlife, but there was nothing. Just how much of the forest life had this plague claimed?

  It was in a small clearing that Jake stopped their group. He studied the surrounding trees, his kith features all sharp lines and hard planes, his gaze narrowed. “We’ll make camp here,” he announced and dismounted.

  Raquel, however, wasn’t so sure. “What about the Depraved?” She climbed down from Vizzi, who shifted, agitated.