Chapter 18

18

KASSANDRA

W e ride for so long that I lose track of time. Despite the rhythmic rocking of the carriage, I don’t sleep.

I don’t dare.

By the time we reach our destination for the night, my throat is unbearably parched, my eyelids are crusted shut from the sand blowing in from the carriage window, and my cheeks feel heated to crimson. I all but dive towards the canteen of fresh water and chug mouthfuls of the delicious, refreshing liquid down.

“Careful, cherub. You don’t want to drown yourself.” Aleksander moves to stand beside me, stretching his arms above his head.

The movement tugs up his loose shirt, and I can’t help but gawk at the prominent abs revealed, as pale as moonlight.

I turn away quickly, willing the heat to dissolve from my cheeks, and Aleksander chuckles knowingly.

As I take another sip from my canteen—slower this time—I allow my gaze to travel over our camp for the evening.

While it’s still in the desert, miles of golden sand spreading out on either side of us, it’s partially hidden by steep dunes, similar to Faye’s village. The sun has just begun to crawl below the horizon, painting everything pink and pale orange.

Blaze expertly sets up a tent while Treyton attempts to create a fire. And I say “attempt” because I’m pretty sure the Spring Prince never had to start a fire in his life. He eyes the logs—which we took from Faye’s village—as if they’ve personally offended him.

Blaze, on the other hand, moves with an agility and surety that lets me know this isn’t his first time sleeping outside. Not that I’m surprised. Blaze didn’t become a warrior by hiding away in his castle.

The huge male rolls out two sleeping bags side by side and then nods for me to take the smallest one.

“You’re not going to set up a bed for me?” Aleksander asks with an exaggerated pout. “That’s so mean.”

In response, Blaze grabs a twig from our log pile and chucks it at Aleksander’s face.

“There,” he deadpans. “I started a nest for you.”

Aleksander grabs the fallen twig and holds it to his chest. “I’ll treasure it always, brother husband.”

“Brother husband? What the fuck?” Blaze looks a single tick away from tearing Aleksander’s head off.

So I interrupt them before a fight can brew, even though I am curious what Aleksander means. Is this another one of his inane ramblings designed to piss everybody off?

“Do we have anything to clean up with?” I sign, hating how grimy I feel. Sweat coats my arms like a shirt.

“Here, sunshine.” Treyton takes my hand and leads me towards the carriage. Most of the supplies have been unloaded, including a huge barrel. “Faye said this water isn’t safe for drinking but should be fine to use for washing.”

He reaches into another pack, grabs a washcloth, and hands it to me.

I give him a grateful smile, which he returns before he steps away.

I don’t dare strip down—not with three males on the other side of the carriage—but I do take the time to wash everywhere I can reach. Faye, thankfully, packed a bar of soap that smells vaguely of roses. Once I’m sure my body is as clean as it’s going to get, I dunk my head in the water and get to work on my long hair.

Satisfied with my work, I step out from behind the carriage to see the three males have settled down for the night.

And they all surround my bedroll.

Treyton and Blaze have claimed either side—something that causes matching scowls to erupt on their faces. Aleksander sleeps directly above me, close enough for his head to brush my own if I choose to lie down.

A strange, indecipherable warmth blazes through me.

“Here.” Blaze sits up and hands me a pack with a few toiletries and a change of clothes.

I take it gratefully and then dip back behind the carriage. Quickly, I change into another dress—this one loose-fitting and gray—then brush my teeth. I return to the males as I’m attempting to tame my snarled hair.

Treyton straightens and beckons me forward. “Let me help,” he says gently, patting the space between his spread legs.

Blaze growls, and Aleksander appears amused.

I hesitate.

“I won’t bite.” Treyton pats the bedroll once more. “But you need help with your hair, and I’m rather good at it.”

“Because of all your past female lovers?” Blaze retorts, narrowing his eyes.

I flinch instinctively.

I’m not sure how I feel about Treyton, but I find that I don’t want to hear about his previous conquests. A tight ball of jealousy forms in my throat at just the thought, making it hard to breathe.

Treyton tosses Blaze a frosty glare before focusing back on me and forcing his expression to soften.

“I used to do Serena’s hair all the time when we were younger,” he confesses. “I haven’t done any other female’s hair before.”

His voice rings with sincerity, which gives me the courage to breach the distance between us and sit between his legs. His deft fingers immediately lift to my hair.

A shiver races through me at the feel of his hand on my scalp, lightly massaging. His other hand reaches for my comb, and he begins to brush through the tangles.

I lift my hands up in the air so he can see me sign. “You and Serena are close, aren’t you?”

He blows out a breath, and it stirs the hairs on my head. Goose bumps ripple on my arms.

“We used to be,” he admits. “Not as much anymore. I’d like to say we’ve grown apart with age, but that’s not the full truth. I’ve changed. She’s changed. I’m not sure she likes the fae I’ve become.”

I’m surprised he confessed that in front of the other two males. Blaze in particular looks intrigued by this little nugget of information.

He looks as if he wants to say something, but one pointed glare from me keeps him silent. He folds his thick, tree-trunk arms over his chest and scowls.

Treyton continues, either oblivious or choosing to ignore Blaze’s reaction. My guess is the latter. The Spring Prince is far too intuitive not to have seen the spark of interest in the other male’s eyes.

“And of course, there’s the issue of Serena’s…behavior as of late,” he continues as he drops the comb and begins to plait my hair.

“You mean her crazy ramblings?” Blaze asks gruffly.

“Hey!” Aleksander pouts. “I don’t like the word ‘crazy.’ It hurts my feelings.” He pitches his voice higher in mock intimidation of a female. “ ‘Aleksander, you’re crazy if you think you can cut out this elf’s tongue and get away with it.’ ” He shakes his head sadly. “I prefer to say that we’re…creatively different.”

“You’re not creatively different or even crazy.” Blaze snorts. “You’re just straight-up insane.”

“I take that as a compliment.”

“It’s not one.”

Aleksander blinks. “Agree to disagree. We all have varying interpretations of the same thing.”

Blaze makes a snarling sound. “There’s nothing to interpret. I’m the one who called you insane?—”

“You did so with love,” Aleksander reasons.

“No.”

“I interpret that you called me insane with love.”

Blaze glances at me helplessly. “What the fuck is even happening right now?”

A giggle breaks free before I can stop it, and the confusion on Blaze’s face morphs into glee. His eyes sparkle.

“Fuck, I love that sound,” he murmurs.

“You told me that my laugh sounds like a fae getting kicked in the nuts by a pacon and then chopped into tiny pieces,” Aleksander murmurs sulkily.

Blaze doesn’t look away from me when he responds to the elf. “Because it does.”

“Rude.”

“Speaking of annoying creatures…” Blaze’s eyebrows furrow. “Where is that pesky monster of yours?”

As if he can sense he’s being talked about, Runt’s head pops out of the nearest bag. His shrewd, intelligent eyes fix on Blaze, and I swear they narrow in challenge. The pacon has a piece of meat in his mouth, and he slurps it down while maintaining eye contact with the Fall Prince.

Blaze bares his teeth at my pet.

Runt simply grins wickedly, jumps out of the bag, and then climbs up my body, being sure to not accidentally prick me with his claws. He rests his furry head between my breasts and sighs in contentment.

Blaze scoffs. “Did anyone else see the glare that damn pacon threw me? I swear he’s out to get me.”

“Is someone turning paranoid in his old age?” Treyton teases as he uses a leather strap to tie the end of my braid.

“Fuck off,” Blaze snaps, his gaze traveling to my now braided hair. His scowl deepens. “You need to teach me how to do that.”

“Braid hair?” Treyton sounds genuinely confused, and I can’t say I blame him.

“Yes,” Blaze grunts.

“You…the fearsome Prince of the Fall Court…want to learn how to braid a female’s hair?” Treyton repeats slowly.

“Teach me.”

Aleksander lifts his hand in the air and waves it back and forth. “I’d like to learn as well.” He winks at me. “Need to be able to take care of my cherub.”

“I don’t think I will teach you two.” Treyton infuses his voice with forced cheer as he gives my shoulders a squeeze, indicating he’s done.

I go to move back to my own sleeping bag, but he stops me, holding me tight against him. I can feel the rigid muscles of his stomach against my back and the rapid pounding of his heart.

“You see, there’s no reason for you two to learn how to braid hair since I already know how. And I have no intention of leaving Kassie. Ever.”

Despite his jovial tone, I detect an undercurrent of darkness that’s impossible to ignore. A warning, a promise, and a threat all combined into one.

And from the looks of it, Blaze and Aleksander heard it as well.

Neither one seems happy.