Page 66 of Kept

Warmth spread through me, along with tendrils of desire. We hadn’t spoken about the Sanctum, but the experience resonated between us. Laurent had put himself between me and Doru. He hadn’t even hesitated. And afterward, he’d wept as he kissed me, telling me more loudly than words that he loved me. It was new for both of us. I was determined to give it a future.

But first I had to make sure he crossed the Bleak Pass—and then returned to me.

We rode in companionable silence for the next few minutes with nothing but the soft sound of the horses’ muffled hooves on the frozen ground to accompany our progress. Varick’s thirty knights were the most elite warriors in Nor Doru’s army. It was hard to feel frightened when I was surrounded by towering males with glowing eyes and armor as black as the night. They’d traded their crimson cloaks for black too. Each warrior wore his hood pulled up, rendering our party almost invisible.

I wore black, too, including a pair of leather trousers donated by one of the squires. “Skirts won’t do, halfling,” Varick had said when he brought them to me. He’d rubbed his mouth and muttered “fuck” when I appeared in the courtyard wearing them a few minutes later.

“Are they too tight?” I’d asked, craning my head over my shoulder as I struggled to see.

He’d cursed again and promptly thrown a cloak around my shoulders. “It’s more a matter of them making mine too tight.” His eyes had glinted dangerously as he tossed me none-too-gently into the saddle. “You’re going to wear those for me when we return.”

“Yes, General,” I’d said breathlessly.

Without skirts to manage, Avenor’s sword lay flat against my thigh. I hoped I wouldn’t need to use it, but its presence brought me comfort.

An owl hooted softly.

Instantly, knights surrounded me, male bodies blocking my view. The rasp of steel on steel filled the air as the knights drew their swords.

“Stop right there,” Varick said somewhere ahead of them, his deadly tone sending a frisson of fear down my spine.

A familiar, lilting accent reached my ears. “You vampires are an unfriendly lot.”

Varick cursed, and I heard him sheath his sword.

The knights relaxed. I nudged my horse forward, nosing through the cluster of warriors in time to see Rhys the Fair lower his hood and offer Varick a smug grin. Jordan and Igrith emerged from the shadows behind Rhys and reined in on either side of him. A small band of Wesyfeddans appeared behind them. All wore brown cloaks fastened with broaches that resembled a leaf. Leather armor peeked from under the fabric.

Rhys’s grin softened to a smile as he looked at me. “Given. It’s good to see you.”

I couldn’t help but return his expression. “You too.” I looked at Igrith, joy bubbling at the sight of her freckles and smiling hazel eyes. Like me, she wore leather trousers and boots that climbed to her knees. Her dark-brown hair was pulled back from her face. A quiver of arrows rose over her shoulder. “I can’t believe you’re here,” I said.

“I told you we’d meet again.”

Laurent gave Rhys an assessing look. “Your presence is a surprise, Chieftain. Wesyfedd is famous for its independence. I thought you were committed to not choosing sides.”

“We heard there was a fight brewing. We were in the area and bored, so we thought we might join in. Assuming you’ll have us.” Rhys shrugged. “Also, Rellan Blackmun is a cunt.”

Any lingering animosity Laurent bore Rhys appeared to drain away as he smiled at the Wesyfeddan chieftain. “Nor Doru can use a few extra swords.” He looked at Igrith. “And arrows, especially those loosed by the Huntress of Aberwas.”

“I name my arrows, Your Grace,” Igrith said. “Are there any names in particular I should add to my quiver?”

Laurent’s expression went cold. “Crasor, Prelate of the Brotherhood.” He turned to me.

“Lord Rellan Blackmun of the Meadowlands,” I said.

Igrith nodded. “It will be done.”

Jordan spoke, his eyes on Laurent. “I believe congratulations are in order, Your Grace, for your ascension to High Priest…” His gaze strayed to Varick. “And your marriage.”

Laurent smiled thinly. “Thank you, Jordan.” His voice turned silky enough to make me shiver. “It’s a shame you couldn’t attend.”

“As you told me once, Your Grace, your gods and mine are not the same.”

“That’s true.” An edge entered Laurent’s tone. “How fortunate you made it out of Lar Budina safely. We were concerned when you disappeared.”

Jordan’s blue eyes remained steady. “No need for concern, King Laurent. I can look after myself.”

Drago leaned into Varick, murmuring, “We are wasting the night, my lord.” Varick nodded, but Laurent obviously overheard because he wheeled his horse around. He lifted in the saddle and addressed the knights.

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