Chapter 15

I knew exactly what this was now. All the coy allusion and doublespeak of the court had melted away after last night. Silas was aroused by me. I didn't have to try to interpret anything. I knew it from his erect cock pressing into my bottom with every rock of the saddle.

And my response was just as honest: I pushed back against it.

One, because I wanted to. That surprised me—that a wantonness persisted after the fire of roseblood died down—so perhaps it was a character flaw rather than the drug itself. Either way, I felt his whole body stiffen each time I did. His instruction did not falter for a second, but I heard the ragged rasps of his breath grow faster. And two, I'd need to perform what magic I could to lull all of them into a state of oblivion, so that when I made my escape…

"If you hold it this way and strike down, the power from your entire arm is behind it." He demonstrated, stabbing into the air. "Now, you try."

I felt the warmth of his hand on the handle as I gripped it in a way I thought was a perfect mirror of his. Silas fussed with my fingers, shifting them into a position that better matched what he wanted and that's when inspiration hit. I performed the strike, aiming at the poor horse's ears, not even riffling his mane on the downward stroke. Silas took the knife from me again and showed me the next move.

I deliberately misinterpreted his instructions, because then he was forced to press closer and move my hand into the right position. Every time I got it wrong, he made me do it again and again, each time correcting my grip, until finally he slid his hand over mine, helping me perform the strike. I strived to memorise the way my muscles felt—the balance of the knife in my hand, then its sharp trajectory downward—promising myself I'd practise it over and over again until it came as naturally as breathing. If Silas was fool enough to teach me how to defend myself, I'd learn my lessons well.

But in the here and now, my aim was to distract him and throw him off balance, and so, when the horse jostled us over a bump in the road, I made sure to grind back hard against him as I jolted in the saddle. He tightened his grip on my knife hand while his other hand slapped down on my stomach. It was far lower than was decent, but I wanted him to go further. I wanted him to touch my body with passion, unlike last night when he'd done no more than clinically inspect me. And I felt it, in my bones, that he wanted to go further too, that what he was reacting to went beyond the distracting rub of my rump against his cock. There was something more.

"Again…" His voice was hoarse now, ragged, and that told me much about his response to me. His grip around my waist was tightening, not loosening, despite the horse's gait settling down. "Again, Jessalyn." Not princess, nor Pearl; not Your Majesty or Your Highness. Jessalyn. I smiled to myself, resisting his order just to see what he'd do. "Again, Jess. You've almost got it."

Jess… That was a slip up, surely. No one shortened my name, not in my presence, but he… I showed myself an apt pupil then, gripping the knife exactly as he had shown me.

"Good girl. Just like that."

Oh, gods, that had me shivering. Last night was mostly a haze, but I remembered Arik's voice coaching me through sucking… I shoved the memory to one side. Instead, I focused on doing as Silas asked, stabbing out in a way that used all the meagre strength in my arm.

For just a moment, all I felt was pleasure at doing something the right way after only a little tuition. It made me feel stronger, prepared to face down any threat I might face.

Exactly how I needed to be if I was to sneak away tonight.

"That's it!" Silas said, holding me tighter. "Clever girl. It usually takes me days to get the new recruits to learn those strikes."

"I hope you'll find I'm a diligent student, Master Silas," I murmured back. "Did you have other strikes you wished to teach me?"

"Silas." A brusque voice interrupted us.

Arik didn't even bother addressing me as he rode back to us. The frown that creased his brow made both me and Silas aware of the way he was currently holding me. His arms loosened, but not by much. Whatever his comrade might feel, the need to keep hold of me seemed to outweigh those concerns.

"Her Majesty has had enough air, I believe." Arik turned his eyes upward, taking in the dappled light that filtered through the tree canopy. "Wouldn't want her to burn her pretty little nose."

"You think my nose pretty?" I said, tapping it with the butt of the knife. "Why thank you, sir knight."

"Pretty enough to be a thorough distraction." Arik's eyes narrowed. "This area of forest can be quite dangerous." I looked around us, seeing only verdant beauty, and fought the urge to roll my eyes. "I think you should return to your carriage so we might best protect you."

Protect his men from my wiles, more like. Roan smirked when Silas brought his horse to a stop, but that expression faded to one of intent focus as I unbuttoned the gap in my skirts.

"May I keep this blade, Master Silas?"

"I think I'm going to have to insist you do," he ground out, taking in the sheath strapped to my thigh. "This thing is near useless."

The knife my mother gave me was sent flying through the air with a negligent flip of his hand, the handle vibrating when the blade buried itself into the trunk of the nearest tree. I wanted to be able to do that as well, and I wondered what I might do to get Silas to show me, but then I remembered I'd be leaving this contingent behind when night fell. I didn't bother buttoning up my skirts, feeling the scandalous sensation of cool air playing over my legs as I followed Arik. He stalked past the carriage horses that were tossing their heads and stamping, no doubt ready to get moving again.

"Lass, you—" Creed went to say from where he sat in the driver's seat, but Arik cut him off, jerking the door open and pulling down the steps. He stabbed a finger inside, his meaning plain.

I shot him a downcast look through my lashes as I climbed back into the carriage before he shut me back inside. Let him think me compliant, mastered by his overweening masculinity. As soon as I was seated again, I pulled the knife free. Once the carriage rocked forward, I aimed at the richly upholstered wall in front of me. The blade bounced off on my first attempt, forcing me to yelp and jerk my legs back as it rebounded to the floor.

When I picked it up, I considered it closely, analysing the memory I had of Silas throwing it, then tried again. My cry of victory was quickly stifled. My throw had queered, resulting in the knife point burying itself in the corner of the carriage, not in the middle where I'd aimed. I decided that practise would be required for me to improve my aim. What else was there for me to do? I plucked the knife free and threw it over and over for the rest of the day.

Arik took in the sight of me with the knife in my hand and the shredded upholstery when we stopped for the evening. Although he said nothing, the tightening of his jaw was more eloquent at expressing his mood than words could ever have been.

"You'll wash down at the river, with an escort."

He was barking at me like I was one of his men, not his future queen, but I just smiled.

"And will he wash my back for me? I have trouble reaching. Usually one of my maids would assist, but perhaps Silas—"

"Silas is gathering firewood, as is Creed, until their heads get clear," he snapped. "And I've got better things to do than wash a pampered princess—"

"Queen," I corrected.

"Empress, imperator, ruler of the known world." He threw up his hands. "Roan has shown himself sensible enough to watch you and not be caught in your spell—"

"But not you?" I moved to the doorway, our gazes locked in a silent battle for dominance that would be won or lost when one of us gave way. Arik didn't want to play this game, because to acknowledge this conflict was to grant me the status of equal combatant. He stepped aside stiffly and let me pass. "Still feeling the effects of roseblood?" I reached up, my former self silently horrified at my brazenness, intending to trail my hand across his chest, but he grabbed my wrist before I could make contact.

"I'm Kheanian. I've been fed roseblood in food and drink since the day I became a man." He dropped my hand. "It'd take more than some dock scrapings and a spoiled little girl to destroy my control."

"That's not a no." I smiled my most serene smile, then decided to fire off another salvo before I breezed past. "The fact you need to exert any sort of control over yourself indicates that you are having to stifle your natural impulses."

Arik's choked-off growl was my only answer. I just kept the same smile on my face as I walked up to Roan, who stood waiting with a drying cloth hanging over his shoulder.

"Come on, Trouble. Let's get you washed before the animals come down to the waterhole for the night." Roan turned and directed me to come with him, reaching behind him to stroke the hilt of his massive broadsword. "I can take down anything that tries to take a bite out of you, but I'd prefer not to."

"Trouble?" I tried for a huff of affront, but his rakish grin was infectious. He snatched a stalk of grass from the waist-high growth by the river, chewing on the end.

"I've got seven sisters at home, so you could say I'm familiar with the look in a woman's eyes when she's intent on causing chaos. The commander doesn't understand, having been raised in a household lacking the gentle touch of a woman."

"And what am I intending to do that could cause so much trouble?" I asked. I kept my tone light and teasing, but I wanted to know exactly what he had divined.

"Don't know the details yet." He shot me a sidelong look full of sly mischief. "Don't want to. Half the fun is seeing what you women do." I kept my mouth shut, suddenly terrified then that somehow, I'd reveal my intent. "Men are stupid creatures for the most part, thinking themselves lords and masters of the world. They might make it hard for a woman to make a full-frontal assault." He flexed his arms, those very impressive muscles popping under the rolled-up sleeves of his shirt. "But brawn over brain only gets you so far. Women are cunning creatures because that's all we'll let them be, but if cunning is what will get them what they want, that's the method they'll use."

What could I say to that? I'd been playing with knives all day, but his words cut closer than any of those blades. Too close for comfort. I just nodded, and he let out a low chuckle as I stepped forward to the river, handing me the drying cloth and soap.

Mother made sure I had dresses I could get out of without needing assistance, so I made quick work of the buttons, shedding the heavy velvet travelling dress like it was my second skin, followed by the underdress and my underwear. As the sun dropped lower in the sky and the world took on a red glow, I walked into the river water, shivering at the cool lick of it against my skin. The soap wasn't as fine as we used in the castle, but it wouldn't rub my skin raw, so I went to work quickly, washing myself clean. I didn't know when I'd have another chance. When I was done, I flipped backwards, floating on the water's surface, and stared up at the sky. That the sun was blood-red made sense to me. Whatever my future held, somehow, I knew my hands would be stained with blood and all I could hope was that none of it was mine.