Chapter Six

E ron stepped out of the stable of a town he'd become quite familiar with during the past twelve autumns and stared up at a clear sky. While the day would be cool, it promised to be clear—the perfect day for travelers.

And for hunters.

He turned back into the stable, going through the motions of readying a pretentious carriage for a trip to Hisar castle. The carriage had brought three men from Votrya: a driver, an older man whose body shouted of living in excess and who was apparently a duke, and a slender youth of perhaps twenty summers, fair of hair and face.

The last time Eron and Kene hunted, Eron had met a similar young lordling who had taken a kiss to ransom a medallion. Eron gladly took the kiss and would've taken more if time permitted, only to find the medallion tucked into his pocket later. He traced the outline of his new lucky token with one finger, smiling at the memory.

Soon, the Duke of Something or Other with the pretentious carriage, would swagger from the inn, his thoughts likely already turned to what favors he might win from the king. If Mistress Simona's accounting of valuables found in the duke's rooms was true, he and Kene would return from the hunt with a remarkable prize.

The young, fair man stepped out of the inn. Oh, yes. Exquisite, indeed. Was he the duke's son or a paramour? Either way might tempt Eron to once more exchange a kiss for a bauble or two.

Eron lifted the hood of his tunic and sauntered across the road. He'd taken it on good authority that he sauntered very well. The beauty gave Eron a quick once over, a come-hither smile tugging his lips upward. Oh, yes. Perfection. Eron had enjoyed entire nights with young lovelies like this, but only as Baroness Kennestone's ward, not when he played a common thief.

Although Eron wasn't much of a ward anymore at over twenty summers, Kene kept him around anyway, especially for hunting.

"Good day, sir," Eron said in passing,

"Good day to you, as well."

"Davin! What have I told you?" came a shrill voice. "Do not talk to the servants unless giving orders!" The portly duke waddled out the inn's door. No fear of him recognizing Eron later, thanks to the concealing hood, and besides, as a perceived commoner, Eron fell beneath the duke's notice.

"Yes, Uncle. I'm sorry, Uncle."

Uncle? Had they been attending a ball, Eron would definitely ask Davin for a stroll in the moonlight. Perhaps more. Eron stood aside for his "betters" and then entered the inn, where Simona served him a bowl of stew. Let the carriage get a head start while he enjoyed a hearty meal.

"You take care, young lordling," Simona murmured while filling Eron's water glass. "Life would be dull indeed without your and Kene's exploits to keep me entertained."

Eron gave her the grin and wink combination that had won him the favor of many a lad—and a few lasses—in the past. "I always have, always will."

Simona cuffed his shoulder. "Don't be practicing your wiles on me, you charmer." More gray smattered her hair than at their first meeting, and she now walked with a shuffle, but kindness still shone in her eyes when she looked upon Eron or Kene. He didn't let the grandmotherly countenance fool him. She could be ruthless when necessary, yet loyal to a fault.

Eron finished his meal and returned to the stables, bringing an apple for Rhedos. "Here you go, you fabulous bit of horseflesh." The horse munched the apple while Eron brought out his tack.

Kene and her gelding occupied the next stall, though anyone who saw her in her black breeches, boots, and tunic might have thought her a man unless they saw her braid, currently affixed to her head with pins and covered with the hood of her cloak. She slipped into the role of Lord Night so easily that sometimes she confused even Eron. "Are you ready, boy?"

Eron flashed a grin through the slats in the stalls. "As ever, milord." All these seasons together, she still occasionally called him boy. Reminding him of the difference in their ages?

Kene snorted in response, leading her horse from the stall. Eron joined her a few minutes later, mounted and ready to go. The horses were of a deep coloring with no easily identifiable markings, the kind of horse no one paid attention to. Though Rhedos might look like an ordinary horse, he had undergone training by the best horsemen and women available.

"Shall we go relieve a wealthy fool of his purse?" Kene asked with an amused smile. "I believe the villagers will need to replenish their supplies by winter."

"Yes, let's." Eron clicked his tongue, setting Rhedos into motion. His pulse raced in anticipation of the hunt.

Eron pulled Rhedos abreast of Kene's mount, staring up at an imposing castle that seemed vaguely familiar. They seldom ventured this far south without reason, and they'd never come solely to rob nobles. They always had other business nearby to provide an alibi.

"What are those?" Eron pointed toward the castle.

Kene blocked Rhedos, speaking in bored tones that belied the anticipation Eron knew she felt. "What, exactly?"

"Those large winged things."

"Ah, boy, remember the stories I once told you in the evenings about the cursed guards, forever destined to act as castle sentries in order to atone for their failures?"

Tales to fill a winter's evening. Nothing more. "Those aren't real men," Eron scoffed. "They can't be. They're some kind of beastly statue."

Kene clapped a hand on Eron's shoulder. "You are correct. They used to be men."

Shivers raced up Eron's spine. "You're telling me true? They were men?"

Kene clucked her tongue, urging her horse faster. "Yes. Cursed by a powerful mage."

"They have to stay that way forever?" Eron couldn't imagine being confined to one place. Even staying on Kene's estate for more than a few ten-days made his skin itch. Of course, he also didn't truly believe a mage turned men to stone. He'd heard stories of mages, but Kene changed the subject whenever he asked about them, leading Eron to believe she didn't believe in them either. Strange she'd mention one now. Then again, she somehow conjured mage light.

Kene continued the story as they rode. "Legend says that when a true heir of the royal family once again sits on the Hisar throne, the cursed guards will have an opportunity to redeem themselves. They'll be his or her champions. But I wouldn't put too much trust in the mage. A spell of that magnitude might be difficult to control. Now, quiet. We're near the road."

Eron went through the motions of hobbling Rhedos, sneaking through the trees, and climbing a tall oak, all while images flashed in his mind of champions, gargoyles, and battles. He stopped. Battle. What was it about a battle that made his heart stutter?

Kene shielded her eyes from the sun with one hand, peering up into the tree.

Eron poised to jump. They'd done this a hundred times. He nodded his readiness.

Kene disappeared into the brush to wait for their prey. Many wealthy lords came this way of late, offering who knew what in exchange for wealth and power. Many arrived at the castle less wealthy and fully aware of how unpowerful they were by the time they reached the castle gates. If they valued their treasures, they should have paid for guards—one or two wouldn't necessarily have deterred Kene, but they would have given her pause.

Eron's vantage point gave him a clearer view of the castle. Something seemed so familiar about the place, but he and Kene had never been there that he recalled. He'd only seen the place from a fair distance, and he'd never paid much attention during their previous trips.

The statue on the tallest spire caught his attention. Was that gargoyle looking at him? Chills ran down Eron's spine. Surely not.

The squeak of carriage wheels brought his attention back to the here and now. So close. Glimpses of the red carriage with bright gold trim Eron had attended at the stables showed through the trees.

He balanced on his perch, slipping a mask over his face. It occurred to him he now looked much like Kene had the day they'd met—a man all in black.

A highwayman. A highwayman, or woman, rather, who'd saved Eron's life.

The clop of hooves grew closer.

Kene stepped into the middle of the road, face covered except for eyes, nose, and mouth, without a sign of her rapier or knives. She could draw either in the blink of an eye. The carriage squeaked to a halt.

"Stand aside," the driver ordered. "By order of the king."

Kene pretended to examine her cuffs, deepening her voice. Even to Eron, who knew better, she sounded decidedly male, with a rich baritone. "King? I see no king here."

"We are on the king's business. I demand that you let us pass," the driver insisted. Poor blighter mustn't have heard that unescorted coaches in the forest were considered fair game.

As Kene trod carefully forward, Eron braced to jump. The moment Kene had the horses under control, Eron launched himself, landing on the carriage roof. The horses startled, neighing and rearing, but the carriage only rolled a few paces. That ought to shake the rich nobles' composure.

In a flash, Kene climbed into the driver's box, sword extended. Eron dropped to the ground and flung open the carriage door, dancing out of range in case either of the men inside fought back. When nothing happened, he entered the carriage, sword at the ready.

Davin lay across one seat, hair in disarray and lightly panting. His lips were kiss swollen—or perhaps swollen for other reasons. The Duke of Whatever in the other seat fumbled with his breeches, breathing hard.

Having a family reunion, were they? Or perhaps they weren't uncle and nephew after all. Eron certainly hoped not. "I could likely win more coin from your duchess for news of this little incident than I will by robbing you." There had to be a duchess. Pompous lords who paraded around with convenient outlets for their lusts always seemed to have a wife at home.

Eron held out his hand, waggling his fingers. "Now, give over. Your pouch, if you please."

"Now see here you—"

"You what ?" Kene asked, opening the other door. The mask made her grin far more sinister, as did her icy eyes. "Your money, if you please. And anything else you have of value. Come now. Neither of us has all day."

The duke quickly handed over his extremely light pouch. No one visited the king with so little.

"Now, the other one." Kene moved her blade closer to the duke's throat.

The duke gulped, then reached beneath his ample ass to extract another, much thicker pouch.

Kene hefted it. "That's more like it." She turned her attention toward Eron. "Now, kind sir, you take the young one, I'll take the old man, but you'll owe me." Kene winked.

Those crystal blue eyes would be a giveaway were they ever caught, if not for one-third of northerners sporting the same.

"Wha… what do you plan to do with us?" Davin asked after several mis-starts.

"Not nearly as much as I'd like to. But you'd like that, too, wouldn't you? Ravished by a lawless highwayman." Eron stroked his gloved fingers over Davin's cheek, eliciting a shiver. Oh, yes. If only Eron had more time, he'd make this beauty his.

If only for a few hours.

Davin's pupils dilated, and Eron knew he would fantasize about exactly what Eron said once he recovered from the shock of this encounter.

Eron took the rope Kene offered, tying Davin with way more touching than necessary. What a pity. They could've had such fun. "I would kiss you if I didn't know where your mouth has been." Eron glanced at the duke, now firmly tied. "A word of advice," he told Davin, "find yourself a better protector. You'd certainly find me more to your liking."

Eron hopped from the coach to the sounds of the duke's curses. The driver lay on his side in the road, tied and gagged.

Kene and Eron took their leave, heading for the stream and their cave. They'd be well on their way to the tavern by the time the men untied themselves, giving Simona a portion of their takings to be distributed among the villagers. If anyone asked, yes, Kene and Eron stayed in her inn. No, they hadn't left all day, instead spending time in the public room, drinking and playing cards.

While Davin dreamed of a dashing thief tonight, Eron looked forward to dreaming of Davin.

A gargoyle filled his dreams instead.