15. Tamsyn

15

Tamsyn

T HE WOODS WERE ALIVE. I KNEW IT. FELT IT.

In the ensuing days, this knowledge took hold of me, deep as teeth sinking into my skin, through the meat of me, clinging tightly.

We moved along at a swift pace that was far from comfortable, especially in the increasingly opaque air. The limited visibility worried my nerves, but the others carried on as though the fog were an ordinary thing. I could see directly in front of my horse to the rider before me, but beyond that, the world turned hazy, draped in a fine wool. Shapes, vague shadows. Trees towering, amorphous giants. There could be anything out there, ahead of us, beside us... waiting.

I would have preferred to travel slower, to see better, to take more breaks, to stretch my screaming muscles and unkink my back, to rest—even if that meant adding more time to what already felt like an endless journey. We had been at this for over a week, and we were not yet halfway there.

But my preferences didn't matter. I told myself I would become accustomed to the relentless pace, to my grinding weight, to the exhaustion and the soreness and the aches, to the ill-humored company I kept.

All of it.

We would reach our destination eventually. I just had to hang on until then. Endure. I could do that. I knew how to do that.

Except...

I felt the eyes on us. Always. Tracking us, marking our progress as we journeyed, observing us even at night when we bedded down, and in the mornings when we woke, unfolding our bodies into the cold gray.

Every sound felt suspect. A birdcall. A snapping branch. A whispering wind. A chattering creature. I seemed to be the only one nervous, adjusting my grip over and over on the reins as we rode, my hands sweating inside my gloves.

Sleep was hard won. I could blame it on my growing discomfort, my hurting body. The hard ground. The unfamiliarity of sleeping outdoors. The strangers all around me, husband included. Husband especially .

Or it could be my gnawing conviction that others lurked in the impenetrable woods, watching... waiting for the right moment to pounce. It certainly put to rest my thoughts of running away. At least for now. I would not flee from one untenable situation into another, into something worse... into what felt like certain danger.

The border warriors were vigilant but undaunted as we rode. They knew themselves, confident in their strength as they sat atop their warhorses, moving fluidly with their beasts. They were formidable. Even I could see that. My gaze flicked to the thick press of trees. Anyone watching us could see it, too. And they were out there. I knew it in the marrow of my bones.

And I was not wrong.

I forgot all about what the grueling pace was doing to my body when we rounded a bend, and they were there, blocking the road, poised atop their mounts, completely at ease, arms and hands relaxed, reins loose between their fingers. Clearly they had been expecting us.

At the front of this motley band, dead center, was a handsome young man with a trim beard who reminded me a bit of Stig, even if he was dressed shabbily, the scarf around his neck tatty and worn.

He smiled widely. His easy manner felt contrary to the tension swimming on the vaporous air. He lifted a hand, flicking it mildly. Instantly his men moved in, unfurling across the road, fanning around us.

"They're flanking us," Mari growled in warning.

Fell lifted his fingers in a circular motion, signaling his warriors to action. Our warriors closed in tighter, hands drifting to the weapons at their sides and attached to their saddles—all movements done with an ease and idleness that belied the edge upon which we all precariously balanced.

I might never have traveled this far from the City before, but I knew enough to know that the situation was fraught. Danger thickened the air as Fell's warriors dropped into multiple rows in a defensive tactic. I was maneuvered behind Fell. They squeezed in on both sides of me, clearly trying to make me less... less .

It was as though by attempting to hide me they only shone a light upon me. The leader sat a little higher in his saddle, craning his head, peering over and around bodies to settle his gaze on me. I knew I looked different from the rest of them. I lacked the bearing and appearance of a warrior from the Borderlands. I was dressed as a Penterran noble, in my riding skirts and cobalt-blue cloak lined and trimmed in pale fur.

"If you wish to pass, you need to pay the road tax," one of the bandits announced.

Fell pulled his sword free, the steel singing in the air. "I will pay no tax." His words rumbled loose from him in an almost bored manner. Perhaps he was not surprised. Had he sensed them watching us, tracking us, too?

"We are no defenseless travelers," Arkin cut in. "You've picked the wrong people to fuck with. Now stand aside, dogs."

The leader snapped his gaze to Arkin, his nostrils flaring, and I wondered if it was the wisest course to insult him.

Fell muttered Arkin's name under his breath while training his gaze steadily on the leader. "Penterran roads are free to all travelers," he inserted in an unruffled voice, smooth as churned butter.

" Penterran roads?" The leader grinned a toothy smile, although his words held no lightness, and his eyes were cold as night as they scanned us. "You've been misinformed. This road is mine. All who wish to use it must pay a toll." He scratched his bearded jaw with long fingers. His speech and manner were quite refined. Not what I would expect from an outlaw here along the edge of nowhere.

"Should have taken another route north," one of the bandits suggested with a mocking twist of a smile, revealing his rotting teeth.

"What other route? Through the boglands? Or the skog?" Arkin's expression revealed how intolerable he found either.

I'd heard of boglands, treacherous swamps where no one traveled, much less lived. The marshy ground was unstable. One wrong step plunged man and beast into sinkholes, never to emerge again. I'd never heard of the skog, and I filed that word away to ask about later.

The leader nodded, feigning a look of contemplation. "Those are options."

"Go ahead. Take your chances in the skog," Rotting Teeth encouraged with enough relish to let me know this would be the worst choice.

"Or," the leader suggested with an air of magnanimity, gesturing to the road ahead, "you can pay the toll and be on your way."

"We traveled south this very route weeks ago without you jackals harassing us," Arkin complained.

The leader shrugged. "Well. We must have been occupied elsewhere. Now we are not. Now we are here, and you need to pay us."

"How much do you want?" Arkin snapped.

Fell held up a hand. "The amount does not matter. I won't pay it. I don't give in to thieves."

I looked at Fell with some annoyance. Was this even worth the fight? He had the coin to spare. He could pay, and we could avoid any trouble.

The leader's eyes found me again. "Coin isn't the only payment we accept. We can barter... other things."

I didn't miss the direction of his gaze. Neither did Fell. His expression unreadable, he looked to me and back to the brigand.

I held my breath, my fingers clenching my reins tightly.

Still grinning, the leader nodded to me, adding, "We can take the girl there as our due."

No one moved.

I waited, wondering if Fell would agree. He didn't want me, after all. If they wanted to be rid of me, this would be the opportunity to do so without being directly responsible. He would have an explanation to give my parents and the lord regent. Sorry, bandits took her.

Rotting Teeth frowned at me. Shaking his head, he muttered, "Bad luck, that."

His leader sent him an annoyed glance. "What are you on about?"

"The hair." He shook his head. "She's... wicked."

I resisted rolling my eyes. It would not be the first time I'd heard that allegation.

The leader gave his insufferable grin again. "I like them wicked." Then he shrugged as though he were not talking about something as significant as my life. "What can I say? I like redheads. See so few these days."

"For good reason," Rotting Teeth muttered, referring to the war on witches. Not that there was much of a war anymore. They had all been run to ground in the past few decades. Eradicated. Or they hid themselves so well that they avoided detection.

Arkin leaned to the side, the leather of his saddle creaking as he whispered something to Fell. I couldn't hear the words, but I could guess.

Let him have her.

"She's not for the taking," Fell declared after a long moment, ignoring Arkin.

The bandits' leader tsked. "Come now. She's not one of you. Anyone can see that. She looks ready to topple off her saddle. She must be slowing you down."

I bristled. Did I look that feeble and pathetic? I pulled my shoulders back as though I could suddenly appear more stalwart, as strong and sturdy as the rest of them. I hadn't uttered a complaint in the days since we'd started this hellish ride. I bit back a retort insisting that I was not slowing them down. They merely moved at a fast clip. At least, I didn't think they had slowed their pace because of me. I now eyed Fell suspiciously. Would they be moving faster if I wasn't with them? That did not sit well with me. I did not want to be a burden and give him another reason to resent me.

"Oh, now you're doing me a favor by taking her off my hands, is that it? So considerate of you." Fell laughed darkly. "Which is it, friend?" The way he stressed friend was decidedly unfriendly. "Is she a burden? Or valuable enough to barter?"

The brigand's smile slipped. Clearly he did not appreciate being laughed at. He leaned forward over his mount as though ready to impart something significant. "Either give me the girl or I'll litter the road with pieces of you." He gestured to our full party with a mild flick of his fingers. "All of you."

Suddenly my skin snapped and pulled tight as warmth rose up inside me. A sense of foreboding rushed over me. Air tremored from my lips... from my mouth, which suddenly tasted of copper.

Compelled for some mystifying reason, I lifted my gaze from the menacing man and peered into the dense walls of foliage to the right and left of us along the road. It was impossible to see within the thick press of towering trees, but I looked anyway. I tried to see whatever it was I felt staring back at me... at us. I couldn't see them, but I felt them. Felt their hot gusts of breath, the rush of blood through their veins, their humming excitement ready to be unleashed upon us.

There were more. More brigands lying in wait, ready to cut us down like a scythe to grass if the order was given. It was not just the manageable dozen or so in front of us.

A panicked gasp left me. My gaze flew to Fell. His attention was also on the trees. He knew, too. Perhaps he had always known, from the moment we rounded the bend. And, looking at me, he saw that I knew. He read that knowledge on my face as easily as one scanned a map, and I felt his surprise. It was the same curious way he had looked at me in the chancery, when I'd emerged from my hiding spot behind the painting. The same way he had looked at me in our marriage bed—his eyes full of wonder and curiosity.

He'd been unable to see my face through the veil, but still he had looked at me, surprise flickering across his shadowed face as his body took mine. I'd felt his shock... his bewilderment as we joined, me taking from him as much as he took from me. My face burned fire.

"Give us the girl."

The words jarred me back to reality. I had forgotten everyone else, lost in the memory of that bedding and the pleasure I had found. At the voice, Fell and I dragged our gazes back to the brigand.

"She's my wife," Fell said. Just like that. A statement of fact.

The admission affected me, though. The pulse spiked at my throat. It was the first time I had ever heard him acknowledge me as that. It made our marriage feel all the more real—equal parts terrifying and exciting. His voice, those words... My belly dipped.

I blew out an exasperated breath. This was what came of thinking about that night, about our bedding, and why I had become so careful to avoid thinking about it. It was too confusing, too... stimulating. I would think about it later and attempt to sift through my feelings then. There were more important matters at hand.

"Ah." The leader chuckled and looked to his cohorts. "I didn't have that sense. Wouldn't have guessed that at all. Did any of you?"

My face burned now for different reasons. Of course he did not have that sense. Fell wasn't even riding close to me. He hardly appeared to be a husband enamored of his wife.

There were chuckles and murmurs of agreement among the bandits.

"Well, she is mine," Fell affirmed in a hard voice. "And I will keep her." The last bit rang with a challenge, which was only emphasized as he lifted his sword and pointed it directly at the brigand. Fell stared down the length of the blade and gave a slight squint, as though bringing the man into better focus. "Now. Let us pass."

All levity vanished from the leader's face. He wasn't going to move. He wasn't going to relent, I realized, and gulped. And neither was Fell.

The coppery taste in my mouth intensified. It was dreadful. I'd only tasted it once before. I was barely five years old then. I'd knocked out one of my front teeth prematurely. I'd been running, and I tripped on a toy and landed face-first on a wooden block in the nursery. Blood, hot and thick, had filled my mouth. I remembered that I bled forever, and it had tasted like copper coins.

Nurse had exclaimed over the blood spurting from my mouth and declared that my adult tooth would likely never grow in. A real shame, she'd insisted. You're already frightfully unattractive with that unfortunate hair, and now you will be gap-toothed. No surprise I remembered that insult so keenly. She had been wrong, though. My adult tooth eventually made an appearance, breaking through the gums like the arrival of a long-anticipated guest.

This was like that. Copper coins in my mouth again. Except I wasn't bleeding.

That was when I knew. Somehow.

Blood would soon soak the ground. I smelled it like impending rain.

"Or," Fell said in the hushed pause.

"Or?"

"I have another proposition that won't result in anyone getting hurt. Well, anyone other than you."

The man snorted. "Cocky bastard, aren't you?"

"I'll fight you. Just us. You and me. If I win, we continue on our way unmolested. With my wife."

The leader laughed lightly, and I braced myself for his rejection of the proposal. Why would he accept such terms? He and his band outnumbered us. He needn't risk injury to himself to get his way. To get me.

"You and I can settle this," Fell said, baiting him. "Come. Show us your prowess. You can tell everyone you beat the Beast of the Borderlands." From the gleam in Fell's eyes, it was clear he did not think he could be defeated.

The leader's eyes widened as he looked him over. "Is that right? You're the Beast?"

"That's right," Fell agreed with a slight incline of his head. "Even if I win... it will make a damn fine story for you. Admit it."

The leader almost looked tempted to smile at Fell's cajoling. Then he gave a single shake of his head and replied soberly, "I'm not in this for stories. I have people to feed."

Fell nodded at me. "And how will she feed your people?"

At that, the leader's smile returned. "There is more than one appetite to be fed."

I sucked in a breath.

Fell's frosty eyes iced over. His hand tightened on the grip of his sword, knuckles clenching white.

The taste in my mouth became unbearable, telling me everything I needed to know. No. I could not let this play out. Lives would be lost. I might survive only to become a captive of these brigands. If Fell was too stubborn to see that, so be it. I was not, though. I was not, and I would not let that happen. I had to stop these idiots before they killed each other.

Enough was enough.

Seized with purpose, I squeezed my travel-sore thighs and nudged my mount forward with my heels. My mare reacted to my prodding quicker than I'd expected, lurching forward with a jangle of the bridle.

Mari noticed my movement and grabbed for my reins, but she was too late. She made a muffled sound as I passed Fell and the rest of his warriors. They seemed frozen, darting puzzled looks at me. Clearly no one had expected me to do anything. They'd expected me to sit in silence like a great lump, letting life happen to me without a whimper.

Perhaps I surprised even myself. I was accustomed to taking abuse. Never resisting. Never fighting back.

I was not one of them. I wasn't a warrior. At least not like they were. I wasn't even, as far as they were concerned, a real princess. I was nothing.

Sitting atop my horse between the two groups, I felt all eyes on me.

"Tamsyn." Fell finally found his voice. "Get back behind me."

"No."

He blinked in astonishment. He had not expected that. His destrier must have sensed some of his sudden tension, because he pranced in place and tossed his head with an agitated neigh.

The leader laughed, enjoying my show of rebellion. "Ohhh, I like her."

Ignoring him, I lifted my arms to the clasp of the necklace I wore. It was a gift from my last birthday. Well, on the day we celebrated my birthday. No one knew my actual birthday. Not with any certainty. I couldn't have been but a day or two old when I was found in the castle bailey.

I owned a few pieces of jewelry. All gifts from my family. Nothing too extravagant. All sentimental, now more than ever that I was gone from them.

But I would give it up. To save lives, it was a small sacrifice.

The clasp unhooked, and I lifted it away from me, fastening the clasp again so that the four charms did not slip loose.

"Here." I stretched out my arm, the chain dangling from my fingers. "Take it. I'll pay the tax."

All my life I had been paying the tax. What was one more time?

"Tamsyn." Fell growled my name.

I sent him a hard stare and declared, "There will be no fighting." I looked back to the brigand. "Here. It is quite valuable, I assure you. Take it."

He studied me thoughtfully before dragging his attention to the necklace in my hand. He inched his mount forward, crossing that remaining bit of space between us. He reached for the necklace, letting his fingers stroke my glove-encased hand as he did so.

Fell pushed up beside me, his destrier bumping into my mare. His warhorse flashed its teeth before nipping at my horse. Fell looked ready to flash his own teeth and take a bite out of something, too. Me, presumably.

The brigand tested the weight of my necklace in his palm, assessing the gold chain, examining the four hearts, each studded with a different gemstone, each one representing the four princesses of Penterra. Yes. One was even for me.

My heart had swelled that day when I opened the pretty ribboned box that contained the necklace. I had felt so touched, so included, so seen . The gift had been an affirmation, proof of the royal family's commitment to me, their embrace of me into their family.

I experienced a little pang at the loss, to see it in the hands of this thief, to know I'd never see it or wear it again. Just as everything else I had left behind, I would be leaving this behind, too. Another thing lost, given up, tossed into the wind like dust.

I blinked my suddenly heavy eyes. It's just a necklace. A material thing. It amounted to nothing.

Lives were more important. What was one more sacrifice? This one hardly felt as substantial as my body, my life, my freedom... all things I had already given over to Fell.

It was worth it. I knew this. Which was why I didn't understand the fire in Fell's gaze as he looked at me. Fire enough to reduce me to ash. I shifted uneasily upon my horse.

My mouth dried, but the coppery taste was gone. There was that. I scarcely registered the brigand announcing that he was satisfied with the barter. "We will take our leave of you. Safe travels."

I didn't spare him or his followers a glance as they turned and filed down the road. I couldn't look away from Fell. Not while he looked at me with such fury and betrayal... as he had when he pulled off my veil to reveal my face.

I had done a good thing, but no one would know it from his expression.

He was only inches from me. The rest of his warriors stayed put, several yards away. "What were you thinking?" he demanded.

"I was thinking that we should just pay the toll and move on." Simple. Logical.

He inhaled, dragging a hand over his face as though I'd just said the most ridiculous thing. Lifting the hand off his face, he blasted me with his icy gaze. "We don't surrender to the demands of an enemy."

"Never?"

He nodded once. "It is not a thing I do."

I pressed my fingertips to my temple, feeling the throb of a headache. "So you would rather engage in a skirmish and endanger lives? Possibly lose your very own warriors?"

His head whipped around, assessing the avid stares of those same warriors. "We're not doing this here."

He dismounted and moved to my side, holding up a hand for me. I accepted it and was instantly cognizant, even through my gloves, of the carved X in the center of his palm. Of the carved X in the center of my palm. All these days later, even though it had healed, I still felt the throbbing mark there where we had been blooded, alive and sparking at the contact with him. Awareness swept up my arm and throughout the rest of my body. He glanced at where our hands were joined, and I had to think he felt it, too.

I dismounted, my legs managing not to give out—just barely. He pulled me after him, his hand still tight around mine, still burning like a brand into me. His long strides carried him off the road, into the trees. I tripped after him, trying to keep up on legs that felt as unsteady as jam.

"Let me explain something to you," he tossed over his shoulder. "I am the Lord of the Borderlands." He wove us between the thick trees, the lush grass squelching beneath our steps. There was no sight of anyone else. I supposed they had moved on with the rest of the brigands. "I keep the peace in the Borderlands. I know it mustn't seem like much to someone who grew up in the comfortable and hallowed walls of the palace, but the Borderlands are my home. My responsibility." He stopped then, dropped my hand, and turned to face me. "To care for my home, to keep it safe, I require respect, and, when need be... fear." His face inched closer, his mouth emphasizing that last word as though extra force was necessary for me to comprehend him. "Can't you see? The moment I am no longer feared, I lose control... and the Borderlands are lost."

Eyes sparking, jaw tense and clenched, he was mesmerizing, magnetic, even spitting fury like this. Not a proper reaction. I knew that. Men like him should repel. Not compel.

"I know a thing about responsibility," I attempted to argue. "That's why I—"

"What happens if I let some lowly brigands take from me? What happens to my reputation then? What does it look like when my own woman takes the necklace off her neck and gives it to some outlaws just so we can use the road every citizen in this country has the right to use?"

I blinked and tried not to consider the way "my own woman" sounded hanging in the air between us.

Just as I tried not to hear his fair point.

He answered his own question: "I would look weak. Like a man who could not protect or defend his lands. I would be inviting invasion. Every brigand in Penterra and every enemy from Veturland would try to take what I have."

I had not thought of that.

"Oh." It was a single word. A puff of sound, small and insignificant as a fluff of dandelion floating on the air.

"Oh," he echoed, nodding firmly.

Some of the fight returned to me then. Should I have let them go at each other over a bit of coin? It seemed so senseless. "I doubt this one occasion has ruined your reputation."

He shook his head and growled in disgust. "You don't know this world out here. Every day is a fight. It is imperative that you listen to me and do as I say. Because this won't be the last situation to arise. I warned you that the crossing is dangerous."

"I understand." Everything was dangerous. That's what he kept saying. I understood that, and yet I couldn't keep the bite out of my voice.

He dragged a hand through the long locks of his hair. "Even when we reach home... In the Borg, there will be perils, too."

Home. That didn't ring right. How could a place unknown to me and full of assorted perils ever be my home?

"I understand," I repeated, tossing my hair over my shoulder in a move that was pure defiance and at odds with my words.

"You understand, but do you agree?" He stared at me, waiting.

I struggled to get the words out, like they were something foul-tasting on my tongue. "As it is your world out here, I will defer to you."

"It is my world, but it's yours now, too, and you would do well to learn how to live in it."

"I will learn," I promised.

He leaned back on his heels, appearing mollified. He glanced back in the direction of the road where our party waited. "Let us continue, then."

Taking my elbow, he led me back to my mare. I kept my expression neutral as he helped me mount, hiding my discomfort as my most tender parts once again made contact with the saddle. What I would do for a soft cushion.

The other warriors watched impatiently, all of them wearing vaguely recriminating glares. Even Mari. My favorite person did not seem such a favorite anymore as she stared at me with disappointment. As though giving my necklace to that bandit had been some kind of failure on my part.

Never had I felt so alone. My throat was bare; the comforting weight of my necklace warm and humming on my skin was gone. Mari's expression, Fell's lecture, this unkind world I did not seem able to fit within—all of it pressed on me.

I really was not one of them. It was as though they all knew some fundamental thing that had been handed out at birth, but this trait had skipped me. I'd told Fell I would learn how to live in this world, but what if I couldn't?

What if I never belonged?