Page 63 of Deadly Maiden

“Let’s sidle to the edge to let them get past.”

Wyntre nods and ambles her mare to where I wait, hands crossed on the pommel.

Men and wagon driver assess us as they trot by then keep going, clearly unimpressed and certain we aren’t a problem.

“The disguises are working. A pity we couldn’t stay in Venin longer?” I prompt Wyntre, teasing her.

“You know I hated that place.” She leans over to poke at my ribs with her black-gloved finger, and I catch her hand, kiss her knuckles.

At her scent, I bite back a groan. “Kissing you, smelling you…” I inhale loudly, making her laugh. “It’s my favorite hobby.”

You dirty old dragon.

My own thought shocks me. I am old, however. Old, but not normally lewd in thought. Only in the middle of sex.

And now we are.

Thatwehas been slipping into my thoughts now and then.

Then I remember how she gave me permission to make love to her when I catch her asleep, if I feel so inclined. The last traces of sadness over the differences in our mortality lift, leaving only sunshine.

“Let’s rest and eat when we get through the forest.”

“And we can take off our crystals,” Wyntre says. “The forest looks dense.”

“It does. Once we reach Langordin, there will be few opportunities to be ourselves, unless in our rooms.”

“I know.” Her mouth twists with dismay. “I will miss seeing your hot dragonshifter body. You know I stare at your ass too?” Then she grins at me, for her words shock me. “Don’t think I haven’t seen you looking.”

When we get in the trees, we should fuck her against one.

What am I thinking? No! Though it would be fun.

“I noticed.” I’m lying just a little.

“Hmmm.”

When the road enters the forest, I’ve lost impetus and choose not to do bad things to my girl necromancer. Though just imagining it is interesting. Another time. Travelers do ride or walk past us still.

“This place reminds me of the ambush.” She shudders. “Is there any way to detect one?”

“An ambush? No. Not of a certainty. We should be wary, but if anyone does try to attack, it won’t be due to your identity.”

“Most of the others are riding in large groups. Is that due to bandits, do you think?”

I nod, shift in the saddle. I’m watching for signs while we talk. Noises. Flashes of color. She’s put me on alert. We have three days of riding, and maybe I’m being too jumpy. I’m far stronger than anything we will encounter.

And I cannot shake this unease that has risen.

“Perhaps in the next town,” I suggest, “we can find someone to travel with. It is difficult to say who is trustworthy, however.”

We ride deeper into the forest. Thankfully, our only true companions seem to be our mounts, while the many creatures moving about are doing their normal creature business—eating, killing, reproducing, pecking at other creatures that steal their food, and making twittery songs.

It’s a relief when we ride around a curve in the road and see the country opening out ahead, the silhouette of a few low hills.

“Midday? Shall we stop here?” I’m dismounting as I ask that, but I guess I know her answer.

Wyntre also dismounts, and we lead the horses off the roadway. Go too far, and the trees close in, become too dense to take horses through. Although we remove our pendants, we keep them nearby as we eat and drink.

---