Chapter 14

Silas

Gods, was there anything more arousing than a beautiful woman holding a knife? If there was, I'd never come across it, and the sight had my cock thickening so fast it hurt, which had me hissing in pleasure. When I heard branches cracking as the little princess walked out into the forest, obviously having finished her business, I thought I would amuse myself by tracking her. I hadn't expected this. For her to respond to my question by diving her hand into some clever slit made in her voluminous skirts to yank a knife free and then brandish it wildly in my direction.

Oh, yes, this was going to be quite the journey.

Jessalyn was holding it all wrong, both hands wrapped around the hilt, which was something I was forced to correct quickly. I stepped to the side, beyond her wild slices through the air, then wrapped my hands around her wrists, pressing my thumbs down into the sensitive hollows there and catching the knife as it fell. I held it out, squinting as I looked down the blade. It was straight, true, and well-balanced. I tested that as I tossed it in the air, then caught the poignard at its tip.

"My knife…"

Her little gasp of loss undid me—in ways a much more coquettish response would never have achieved—especially when it was to mourn the loss of something I loved so dearly. I'd cry like a child if my blades were stripped from my person, not that there was any possibility of that. I'd been evading the attempts of my father to disarm me since I was five, much to his glee. I was heir to The Thieves' Guild of Khean, so I needed to prove myself worthy of that position every day. I flipped the knife, offering it to her handle first.

That tiny moment of hesitation? I couldn't help but love it. She could have her little blade back, much good it would do her, but that wariness… It was as though they bred it out of highborn girls, making them as gormless as puppies rushing towards danger. If she hadn't been taught to stifle that… I shook my head and then smiled politely.

"You were holding that all wrong." I plucked one of my own knives from my belt and then demonstrated. "Two arms and you limit your range of movement." I shifted to a one-handed hold and then sliced through the air. "One-handed gives you much greater range of movement."

Jessalyn danced backwards, though I had no intention of getting close to her. If I did, I would be tempted to nick off all the jewels she was wearing, leaving them to fall in the dust, and then I'd want to cut off—

No.

I drew on the same iron control that'd had me staring at her hot little cunt but not actually touching it. Bad thieves acted on impulse, snatching things the way a child might—just because they wanted them—then were surprised when they were hauled before the judges to be told they'd be hanged for their crimes. A smart thief identified his goal, gathered all the relevant information, planned his heist meticulously, and then covered all his steps as he made his getaway. That was the way I'd been trained since I was a child, so my mind went to work on all the steps I'd need to take to get her naked again.

I catalogued them. Get her trust first, then get her used to me and my blades. Slowly but surely, get her to see the pleasure that could be gained from drawing intricate patterns on my skin, then licking away the blood that welled. And when she'd been a very good girl for me, I'd pull my most precious knife free. The one with the long handle with that bump in just the right spot, so that when I eased it into her, she'd feel it just there—

"I could show you how to properly wield a knife if you'd like." And where the hell had those words come from? My lips, it seemed. She looked just as stunned as I was by my offer, but I rallied quickly. "If you're to ride with us to Khean, it stands to reason you need to be prepared to fight off any threat that gets past us."

Yes. That was the excuse I was offering to spend time with a beautiful woman, helping her learn how to hold a knife properly. Nothing at all to do with the persistent and very annoying throb in my loins. I waited for my slap to come. Surely I deserved one after I inspected her like a horse at market last night. She wasn't to know I would treasure that stinging mark long after it faded.

But it didn't come.

She just stared at me—her eyes taking in all the little expressions that crossed my face, my stance, my positioning—reading me just like a thief would a mark, I realised. I fought the urge to smile.

"You'd do that for me?" she asked, wary as a startled rabbit.

I smiled slowly, unable to stop the flush of something so very warm washing through me, right before I offered her my arm.

"Your Majesty, it would be entirely my pleasure."

I sought novelty like others did air because it felt like magic fizzing in my veins whenever I experienced it. I had to admit my feet barely touched the ground as I escorted Jessalyn back to her carriage.

"You're done?" Arik was always a blunt fool, blurting out whatever thought was in his head far too freely, but I watched the muscle in his jaw jump when he saw where the princess' arm was. Interesting. "The horses have had some water and we need to push on if we're to make camp by the river crossing before night falls." He nodded to the carriage. "Get in, Your Majesty…"

Only Arik could inject such scorn into a title. It should've gotten him kicked from the corps some time ago, but that would never happen.

"The carriage is making me feel nauseous." I felt Jessalyn stiffen beside me, as though expecting an argument. She lifted her fingers from my arm, and I missed their presence instantly. "The air inside is too close and—"

"Then ride with one of us." Golden Boy's smile was back, thinking he knew how this would go down. Most women flocked to his side, taken in by his pretty exterior, not realising what lay beneath.

But not the princess, apparently.

"Fine." She turned to me, and I soaked in the view. Those eyes sparking with fire, her full lips pursed and then curved into a smile before a slender little hand went to my chest. Gods… I sucked in a breath. I was in trouble. "You said you'd show me the basics of knife wielding. Could we perhaps make a start on my lessons as we ride?"

Hell—clearly I was being consigned to hell, but I'd often been called a devil, so when we reached where I'd tethered my horse, I just grinned and cupped my hands. She put that dainty little foot into the hollow and then hoisted herself up into the saddle like a horsewoman born. Thank the gods they trained Stormarian women adequately because being forced to lock my thighs around her to keep her in the saddle, while at the same time teaching her the niceties of knife play, would have been a step too far for even my control.

"You're going to show her how to wield a knife?" Arik asked, grabbing at my shirt when I went to retrieve a waterskin for the next stage of the journey.

"Seems like a smart thing to do." My tone was deliberately light, which set my brother's instincts on high alert. "An armed princess is one that may just survive."

At that, his fingers loosened their hold, brushing against my shirt front to smooth the wrinkles, to little avail.

"Teach her well, then," he urged, "and don't…" He frowned as he stared into my eyes, making me wonder at the source of it. Did he care what happened to the little princess? Surely not, after all we'd been through over the years. Carrying out the king's commands had burned all the fine feelings out of the lot of us. "Don't let yourself be distracted."

"Good advice to follow, brother." I clapped him on the shoulder, not waiting to watch his response.

A good thief is always aware of his environment and the people he shares it with, seeing all the same things others missed, but there was only one set of reactions I was interested in. Jessalyn stiffened as I hauled myself up into the saddle, but her body softened against mine when I settled. The same instincts I'd honed to ensure my safety fed me so much more information.

She still smelled slightly of roseblood, the tangy floral taint that stained her skin only partially masked by the orange blossom perfume she wore. Her hips were narrow on the saddle in front of me, her arse tiny, fitting perfectly between my thighs. And then there was the raw silk of her hair, coiled up in tight braids at the base of her neck. I longed to pull them free, thrust my hands into all that softness, then push my face into the mass. Instead, as we were still waiting for the others to mount up, I decided to drop the reins to let my horse graze a little more. This would be the best time to show her how to handle a blade, so I jerked a knife free of my boot and held it before her.

"What do you know of the different parts of a knife?" I asked as the others readied themselves to leave.

"This is the bit you grip, and that's the bit you stab people with," she replied.

"The bit you grip…" I let out a low hiss. "This is the blade and this channel here…" I ran my finger along the groove, the sensuous feel of steel against my fingertip just as pleasurable as having her in my arms. "It's to give somewhere for the blood to go… when you stab someone." I turned the knife on its side, to show her, then kicked my horse into a walk to follow Arik's lead. "Mine is a full-tang knife. The same steel used in the blade goes through the handle, with the wood sandwiched on either side for more comfortable wielding. It's much less likely to break because the steel runs through the entirety of the blade."

"Is mine full tang?"

I tried very hard not to watch her hand delve into whatever mysterious pocket was built into her skirts, nor to react to seeing a brief flash of flesh that was there and then gone again. My arms could not help but tighten around her just slightly at the sight of her hand on the knife once more.

"Gods, no," I said, prompting her to turn it on its side and showing her that no metal ran through the body of the handle, or if it did, it had only a slender tang. "Your blade could easily break off when you stab something. Usually this sort of knife has it just glued into place."

"So why would someone make something so useless?"

"It was probably designed to be a belt knife, with no greater burden placed upon it but to slice a man's meat up for him."

"Can I get a proper knife then? Will we be stopping at any villages with a marketplace? Or a sword master's forge?"

"Not likely, Your Majesty…" I repeated her title to remind myself of it, not to point out to her the social distance between us, but that didn't explain why I pushed my knife into her hands. It had been given to me by my father when I was first blooded, and the nicks on the blade were testament to its age. "But I'd be honoured if you'd accept this one instead."

"You'd give me your knife?"

I didn't see the trees or the road, or my brothers ahead or beside me, not even Creed perched up on the coach box as he manoeuvred the carriage along. All I had eyes for was Jessalyn as she twisted in the saddle.

"It's just a knife," I assured her, "and I have many."

"Well…" This close to her, I caught the slight blush in her cheeks, so much more delicate than last night's drug-induced flush. "I accept your gift most gratefully, Sir Silas."

"Just Silas," I corrected. "No noble blood in my veins, unless the king of thieves is now recognised in courts across the continent now. No?" I smiled wryly as she looked at me a little uncertainly. "Now, to lessons. You now know that wielding one-handed gives you greater flexibility of movement, but how should you grip the handle?"

"Like this?"

I groaned as she gripped it like it was an eating utensil, but not just because of her terrible form. It was more that seeing the ebony wood against her creamy skin made much more vivid thoughts arise. Of her hand wrapped around my hardness. No, it would be better for her to have the handle of the knife in her palm as she gripped my cock, pressing the wood into me…

"Not quite." I loosened the reins, crossing them over the pommel and squeezing my knees so that my horse knew to walk on, plodding after the others at a sedate pace. I took Jessalyn's hands in mine, resisting the urge to rub my thumbs against her soft, smooth skin, and then held her fingers around the handle in the correct grip. "There are several different ways you can grip a knife hilt, and it depends on what your purpose is…"

I knew I was plodding straight into hell without even a look over my shoulder, but I didn't care. You had to take your pleasures where you found them, that was the motto of a thief, because you never knew when the noose might tighten around your neck. My throat might be tight, every breath one I had to fight to take as I clasped the princess close, but there was nowhere else I wanted to be.

It was when she'd inevitably slip free of my grip that I'd be in trouble.

I couldn't focus on that now. I took her through the different forms and strikes, remembering all the lessons I'd been taught and then passing them on, because it was only then I could ignore the persistent ache in my body.