Page 47 of Once Upon True Love's Kiss
“We should return to the village now,” Ardan said.
But she didn’t want to. She wanted to stand there with the vague hope the stranger with the blue-green eyes would return.
“Snow?” he queried.
She exhaled a deep sigh of contentment. “Yes, I suppose you’re right.”
He reached for her hand, tucking it into the crook of his elbow. He was talking, but she wasn’t listening. Instead, she was thinking about the stranger. The stranger, she realized, she would likely never see again.
Chapter 17
Roderickawokethefollowingmorning when his horse nudged him with her nose, then snorted at him. The stars were gone, replaced by the morning sun. Birds sang their happy tunes high atop the trees and the stream the lady mentioned rippled over rocks in a soothing trickle that sent him right to sleep.
Smiling, he patted the horse’s nose.
“All right, old girl. I’m awake. And you’re right. We should be going.”
He had a difficult time not thinking about the girl in the forest. There was something special about her, something that told him that though she was human, she was not all she appeared to be. It was difficult to ignore the earthy scent of magic emanating from her. He wondered if she realized how intoxicating that was.
In all his years, he had never met another elemental, though he certainly knew there were others like him. His parents, may they rest in peace, did not possess the magic as he did.
But the girl did. The moment he stepped down from the saddle and approached her, he sensed it. She had a fire deep within her. When she said she was the protector of the forest, he believed her.
What baffled him the most was that she was with the elven boy who she called Ardan. He had his enchanted blade. How had the two of them come to be in each other’s presence? They didn’t seem as though they were a couple. In fact, she seemed more irritated with him than anything. Ardan, other the other hand, was enamored with her.
Even without his magical senses, Roderick saw that about the elf.
She was lovely with red lips and moonlight pale skin. It was difficult to see in the darkness, but he guessed her hair was black as a raven. She had high cheekbones and a heart-shaped face with a chin that came to a point. He admired how she clenched her long, slender fingers into a fist, as though she meant to do him harm if he stepped out of line. The thought made him smile. He regretted not getting the girl’s name.
The horse nudged him again, breaking him free of his ruminations. He patted her nose again and then went to the saddle bag, reaching in for an apple.
“I know we should be going,” he said as the horse munched away. “But I can’t stop thinking about that girl.”
A snorted response, which made him chuckle. He took up the reins and led her away from the stream, heading north and to Seraphina’s castle to deliver the queen’s dagger.
It was a long ride through the Mystic Vale northward. He passed through several small villages, all of which seemed to have no joy about them. The tension was high in each of them. He stopped at a local inn in the village of Westfall for a midday meal and was welcomed by the innkeeper. From him, Roderick learned why there appeared to be no happiness in these villages. Seraphina’s rule was one of suppression. She taxed them to the point of poverty.
The innkeeper told him the story of the missing princess. That she mysteriously disappeared after the king died under suspicious circumstances and Seraphina proclaimed herself queen.
“What happened to the princess?” he asked.
The innkeeper shrugged. “No one knows.”
After he finished his meal and threw some gold coins on the table, he continued his journey.
He did not arrive at the castle until the sun had long set. Rather than ride up to the castle gates, he dismounted and walked the rest of the way, leading his horse by the reins. There were guards posted outside the door, which he expected. He did not expect the guards standing along the wall pointing arrows at him ready to shoot him if he made a wrong move. He gave them a cursory glance as he approached the outer wall, then fixed his gaze on the two flanking the open portcullis.
One guard stepped forward, holding out a hand to stop him from advancing further.
“State your name and your business here,” the guard said.
“Roderick of Bridgefort. I come at the behest of your queen to hand deliver the item she requested.”
“What is this requested item?” the guard asked.
“She commissioned a special blade from me. I’m a blacksmith,” he replied. He preferred not to say, but then he decided he wouldn’t get very far if he didn’t.
“Wait here,” the guard said.
