Chapter 12

Tara

I awaken with my heart pounding, disoriented for a moment. Something's changed. Then I realize what's different. The carriage has stopped. Confused, I lean out the window and realize that there are massive trees everywhere and no sign of the huge mountains in front of us. Peering behind me, I see that jagged mountains stand guard over the way back to witch territory.

We're in shifter territory now.Those mountains behind us are impassable, outside of this passage. There's no going back now. If there ever even was a way to go back. I sit back on my seat trying to understand why I feel so uneasy. The marriage was done. The deal was signed. Nothing has really changed, except that I've left the safety of my people's lands.

Not that it was all that safe for me.

One of the servants opens the carriage door, and I grab my bag of weapons, knowing what's coming. He'll help me but ignore me, like the others. He's silent, but he extends his hand and helps me out of the carriage.

"Thank you," I say.

He nods and hurries away.

It's strange. I've been with these shifters for days, and I still don't know anything about them. Maybe it's the long days and nights of traveling, but they seem completely uninterested in getting to know me, no matter how hard I try.

And the princes and I? We appear to be avoiding each other, which is a strange arrangement.

Stretching, I yawn and stare out around me. Dawn paints the sky, casting a soft glow on the landscape and giving everything a deceptively magical glow. Heading off the road, I cautiously enter the area we'll be sleeping in, feeling out of place. Around me, the shifters are setting up camp to sleep. Tents rise like shadows, and a fire flickers to life in the center of the camp.

I wonder if they sleep during the day like nocturnal creatures or if they just do this when they travel. I hope this is just for traveling. The notion of sleeping during the day would take some getting used to if this turns out to be normal life. But I can adjust to it. I can adjust to just about anything. It's one of my only skills.

Another servant approaches me, reaching for my bag, the one I filled with my weapons. His face is blank, like he's just going through the motions of what it is to care for a royal, without any interest in getting close to a witch. Not that I blame him. If my mother's battle stories are true, we witches have killed a lot of shifters, brutally. I wouldn't want to be near me if I were him either.

"No, I'll carry it. Don't worry about it." I feel better about being surrounded by shifters with my weapons close at hand.

He frowns at me, his first emotion outside of indifference. "I'll carry it for you. It's my job."

Maybe, but I don't want you to. "It's okay. I packed it, and I've carried it all this way. I can manage," I insist.

Seriously? What's this guy's problem? I get that I'm in the land of freaking giants, but I can carry my own bag.

"Please, Princess, I'll handle your belongings," he says, but his voice is filled with frustration.

"Nah. Pass," I say, taking a couple steps away.

He stands in front of me, reaching for the bag. I shake my head and clutch it to my body even tighter before turning away from him and trying to walk away. I'm not doing this. I'm not being told what to do, nor am I going to have some awkward fight with a servant in front of the entire camp.

"My lady," he growls behind me, and I can tell he's too close still.

"Just let the Princess carry her own bag of baubles and jewels! Let her see that we shifters aren't subservient to the witches just because they have magic. If she wants to survive, she can survive by her own merit," Prince Drogo calls out from where he's putting up a tent. The people around him all burst into laughter.

I'm relieved. I don't even care that they're making fun of me. I just don't want to deal with this situation. Things need to stay light with my new captors, I mean, husbands.

"Yep, let me carry it! It's my own problem if I want to cling to a heavy bag," I say, shouldering the bag and scanning the area for where I should set up now that I'd dealt with that uncomfortable situation.

So far, we hadn't officially camped. Moreso, we pulled off the road for a couple hours of sleep at a time. I'm guessing now that they're back in their territory, they feel safe enough to set up a true camp.

The only warning I have is when I hear the servant huff in irritation behind me, and then he's suddenly grabbing my bag, nearly pulling me off my feet as I cling to the last thing that feels like mine in the world. The weapons I got from my blacksmith.

When he won't let go, I yank back, and everything in the bag spills onto the ground. My best three daggers clang together. My favorite sword does a spin before falling completely to the ground. My five throwing stars land straight up in the dirt, and my bow and arrows fall to the ground with the arrows fanning out like a flock of birds taking flight. The servant"s eyes widen as he takes in my arsenal, before he quickly walks away.

"Thanks for the help," I mutter.

The camp has quieted down as everyone stares at me and my mess. I don't know what they're thinking, but probably nothing good. Trouble both has a way of finding me, and a way of making me look bad. This is another one of those glorious moments.

Realizing that no one seems to be looking away, I force a smile and shrug my shoulders. "My bobbles are a little different than other women"s. Still shiny though."

Someone snorts.

Another person gives an awkward cough that seems to be covering up a laugh.

Smooth, real smooth.

I kneel down and start gathering my things back up in my bag. Everyone else resumes setting up…well, almost everyone. I can feel eyes boring a hole into me, and I know it"s Prince Drogo. He dislikes me the most out of my husbands. And I'm doing a bum job of winning his affection.

I glance up, and our gazes catch. I can practically feel his anger sizzling over me like fire. The tattoos on his arms dance as his muscles swell. The man looks good and ready for a fight, but the target of his anger is me.

The desire to flip him the bird moves through me, but instead I offer him a sickly-sweet smile. If he looked tense before, that's nothing in comparison to now. Those pale brown eyes of his are filled with rage, and his jaw is clenching so hard I think he might break it.

Serves you right.

I mean, it's not like any of this was my idea, so why's his anger focused at me? Witches and shifters hate each other, I get it, but they agreed to this deal too. They don't get to sit around giving me dirty looks.

With all my stuff put away, I close my bag and rise to my feet. My gaze skims over the shifters busy setting up camp, and the ones that are sitting around the fire with Drogo. Neither are the company I want to keep, so I bite my lip and think about where to go. When I hear the sound of running water, I release a slow breath. Perfect.

I scurry out of camp and come to the river. I set my bag down, then walk to one of the trees to handle my personal business. When I"m finished, I wash my hands in the river, then decide I need to clean up a little bit because we"ve been on the road for a few days, and I feel gross.

Most witches can get water to wash over them just right. To cleanse their skin without soaking their clothes. Which I should be able to do, right?Yeah, it's an easy enough spell. I've managed it a few times. It's not like calling to the lake and getting it to respond. It's a smaller ask. Just a little bit of water.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath. "Water," I whisper, and wait.

Nothing happens, but I didn't really expect it to the first time. I just have to focus. I'm only asking for a misting of water. A small amount. Even I can do this. I command the water again, but it doesn't respond. Frustration builds up inside of me, and I take another deep breath and blow it out slowly.

"Water."

Nothing.

I huff and fling my arms up in frustration. The sound of water hitting the ground all around me reaches my ears, and my eyes fly open. Did I do it? I don't feel any water. I grin and stand, whirling around to see what happened.

My grin falls away. Prince Arlys is standing behind me. He's soaking wet, with water dripping from his long, black hair, and more water running off his arms and clothes. And he looks pissed.

Fuck.

"I"m so sorry!"

He's going to think I did this on purpose. He's not going to believe a witch is so bad with her magic that this could be an accident, and I can't let him know how useless I really am.

I need to fix this. "Let me help!"

I'm not going to try my magic, and then set him on fire. Nope, I'll have to do this the traditional way. First, I ring out his sleeves, then go for his shirt, pulling it out of his pants and ringing that out too. Then I grab the sleeve of my dress and start patting him down, starting at his chest and moving downward.

"Man, this is a lot of water," I mutter as I reach his pants, and pat off the front of him.

Prince Arlys leaps back like my touch is fire and looks at me wildly, his hands covering his crotch. For such a big man, he moves pretty damn fast. Why though? Those wide green eyes of his just look shocked, which isn't exactly helpful.

"What?" I ask, confused.

"Wh–hat are you doing?" he asks, his voice deep and pleasant, even now.

"Drying you off," I tell him, planting my hands on my hips. "You're soaking wet, and it was kind of my fault."

He stares at me for a long minute before he shakes his head.

I sigh. I know that look. As usual, I"ve done something wrong. And as usual, I don't know what it was. I mean, technically, I know I soaked him in the first place, but that doesn't seem to be what he's upset about now.

"I"m sorry," I say. "For the water and whatever else I did to upset you."

"You…" he begins, gesturing widely.

"Me…" I say, trying to follow him.

"You…" He motions to his pants.

"Wet your pants," I say, then wince, realizing what I'd said.

He stares at me like I'm a creature he's never seen before.

"I got you wet instead of getting myself wet." Like I was supposed to.

His jaw drops.

Now, I'm scratching my head. What did I do now? "Why don't you just take your pants off then, and I'll take care of you?"

He stares. Hard.

Did I grow an extra head? I feel like I did.

"Just let me get into your pants, and I'll take care of you." Why is this so hard to understand?

He makes a sound that's definitely not a word, spins around, and marches back to camp.

Fuck.

"Let me know if there's anything I can do to make up for your pants later!" I call after him.

It might be just in my head, but I think he's rushing even faster away from me. Yup, I made another friend. Prince Drogo will continue to glare at me, and now Prince Arlys will too. At least with this husband I gave him a reason not to like me.

Way to go, girl.

I stand there motionless, my heart pounding. I've done it again. My magic is useless, and I embarrassed myself in front of Prince Arlys. He either thinks I did that on purpose and am a real asshole, or he knows that I did it accidentally because I suck, and the shifters will realize they got a dud of a witch in the trade.

Either way, I just made my life a hell of a lot harder.