Page 15 of Tusk Love

“Yes, yes, I’m with him!” Guinevere hastily piped up. She laid an entreating hand on Oskar’s arm. “These nice men were just helping me with my bags—”

“These nice men,” Oskar said witheringly, “are two of Druvenlode’s most notorious criminals.”

“They arenot,” Guinevere protested, aghast. Then she glanced at Warwick’s shoddily bandaged stab wound. “They are only in high spirits from the drink, and their friends—”

“Theirgang members—”

“—are a little rambunctious,” she continued stubbornly, but at this point Jimmybutcher and Warwick had dropped her bags on theground and were slowly backing away. Oskar was practically vibrating.

“Now, now, Oskar.” Jimmybutcher held up his hands, a placating lilt to his wry tone. “We didn’t mean your lady any harm. She wanted to know where the market was, and we thought it’d be best to escort her.”

“Iwillsay that she trusted us a little too quickly. You have to look after her, Oskar,” Warwick pronounced, the most sober that Guinevere had heard him during their brief acquaintance. He sounded almost fatherly. “No telling what sort of trouble she’ll get into out here.”

“I might already have an inkling,” Oskar groused.

Jimmybutcher’s elfin features twisted in something like sympathy. “Good luck, Oskar.”

After Jimmybutcher and Warwick had disappeared, Oskar picked up all of Guinevere’s bags and set off. She followed him back to the tenements, earnestly pleading her case the whole time.Hewas the one who’d said that Dustbellows folks’ bark was worse than their bite, and in any case, Jimmybutcher and Warwick hadn’t hurt her at all; in fact, they’d been kind enough to guide her to the marketplace after she’d stumbled upon them outside an alley…

Oskar didn’t say a word until his front door had slammed shut behind them. He set her bags down and gave her a hard stare. The urge to press her lips to the aggravated wrinkle between his brows crept up on her like a fever, and she, too, fell silent. Lost at sea.

“Guinevere,” Oskar gritted out as though each syllable were being dragged forth by wild horses, “I will take you to Nicodranas. Start packing. We leave within the hour.”

Chapter Ten

Oskar

Of the six approved gods, Oskar trusted least in the Matron of Ravens, whose province was death and fate. The existence of a goddess for whom everything was set in stone periodically annoyed him like an itch he couldn’t scratch. Out here in the mountains, down in the dark of the mines, people made their own destiny.

And yet…

Perhapssomethings were inevitable. Maybe he’d always known what he was going to do from the moment he first saw Guinevere in the light of the inferno.

But that didn’t mean he had to behappyabout it.

“You cannot escort me all the way to the Menagerie Coast,” Guinevere was protesting as Oskar divided up the stash of rations and supplies between their two rucksacks, hers glossy and brand-new. “You have to go to Boroftkrah. It was your mother’s wish…”

“It can wait,” Oskar said shortly. “My mother’s shade will bean me over the head if I let a girl like you walk the Amber Road alone.”

“Whatever do you mean,a girl like me?” cried Guinevere.

“Someone who gets in the middle of a fight between two rival gangs.” Gods, just remembering it was enough to make him break out into a cold sweat. She was a danger to herself. “Stop arguing, princess. It’s done.”

She blushed violently. Then she asked, with the absentmindedness of an afterthought, “How did you know I was in the marketplace?”

“People told me they’d seen you there.” With the Butcher and Phineas “Disembowelment” Warwick. Shit. Oskar wasnotabout to recount how he’d torn out of his house when he woke up to find that she wasn’t in his bed. How he’d gone around describing her to various passersby like a lunatic and nearly laid out the hapless street sweep who’d spotted a silver-haired girl haggling at the marketplace in the company of two lowlifes who had a body count in the triple digits between them.

He surveyed what it was, exactly, that she’d haggled for: far too much, and they would need to leave some of it behind, but it was incredible, really, what a few useless trinkets could get you, just because they were made of precious metals…

Inspiration struck.

“Do you know how to ride?” Oskar asked Guinevere.

The stable master on theoutskirts of Druvenlode drove a hard bargain in spite of Oskar’s best glowering. In the end, he could be persuaded to part with only two horses—a dappled gray-and-white draft mare named Pudding and a jet-black stallion called Vindicator.

The exchange had required nearly all the contents of Guinevere’s satchel. Oskar could see how hard she was biting her lip not to complain, and he silently vowed thathewould thump her father if the merchant said anything once they met him at Nicodranas.

But, in any case, Guinevere was rather quick to cheer up once Oskar began tying all their luggage to Pudding, the pearwood trunk included. She kept up a steady stream of chatter while he worked.

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