Page 38 of Boundless
Len sighed, but he was learning not to put up an argument with her. "The men will j-judge me, though."
"Perhaps. But they're a generally judgy bunch. Their opinion doesn't count for much, in my eyes.Youknow who you are. The people who actually care about you know who you are. Who cares what a bunch of cunts think of you taking proper care of yourself?"
He was quiet for a little, the only sound in the tent that of her hands gliding over his skin. "You make it sound so easy," he responded at last.
"Hm. Well it's noteasy, I'll give you that. But it issimple, aye?"
"Aye," he chuckled, his eyes sliding closed. By the time she was done he was snoring lightly, and she decided to let him sleep. They'd agreed that she would take first watch, anyway, and she was far more used to hard travel than her sweetling, besides. It was in the Istarii Drakan blood to wander, the horde camps roving all over their territory, following game, following whims, following the will of her mother, their matriarch. Daega had practically been born in the saddle, and it was no hardship to sit and watch her beautiful elf prince sleep while she kept an eye out for trouble.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Inn Trouble
IT WASN'T UNTILthe third night on the road that the guards had to earn their pay.
They'd been making good time, the foothills that marked the beginning of the contested territory already a smudge on the horizon. If they could keep up the pace, they'd be there in six days, just like she'd predicted.
She and Len had opted to ride closer to the cart today and chat with Sevren and Maleom, the boisterousness of their chatter drawing in the two closest guards until the captain at the rear of the caravan was shooting them dirty looks. But it had been such a fun day that Daega found it impossible to feel guilty.
When they stopped that night, it was at an inn, their guards groaning in relief that it wouldn't be another night on the ground, but Daega was a little less relieved. It wasn't a particularly nice establishment, for one—it wasn’t quite seedy, but it also wasn’t nearly maintained enough to give her confidence in the place. But she couldn't deny that Len could use the comfort of a proper bed. It had been warmer today, and he looked tired and wrung out.
It was a bit of chaos, getting the rooms sorted out and everyone taken care of, but despite Aevel and Sev wheedling her for another round of cards she declined, retreating to the small attic room she'd taken with Len to see to him.
When she eased into the room she made sure to lock the door firmly, wishing there was a chair in the room she could wedge under the latch.Suppose I can just scoot the stool over and if anyone comes sneaking in they'll either knock it over or trip on it,she thought.
She did a sweep of the tiny room, barely big enough to fit the narrow bed, and was satisfied that aside from being filthy, it was safe.
"Try not to touch too much. This place seems like the sort to carry a kind of ambient infection,” she cautioned, sitting carefully on the lumpy mattress beside Len's pale face. "Are you well, love? What can I get you?"
Len grunted, his green eyes rolling over to her face. "Well enough. Tired. All th-this riding, and the heat..." He trailed off, eyes slipping closed again.
Daega smiled down at him, combing her claws through his sweat-caked curls and caressing the back of his head. "I'll go fetch some water for a wee bath, alright?"
He nodded, rolling over onto his back with a groan to do as she'd asked. She gave his thigh a squeeze and snatched the chipped, badly stained basin from the wobbly little table tucked in a corner and went out to the spout she'd seen at the side of the inn.
She was only gone five minutes, but it was a tense five minutes, her hair standing on end and her muscles shivery and tense without Len in her sights. She just couldn't shake the sense that something was wrong, that something was going to happen.
She threw open the door when she returned, eyes wide and taking in the room. Which was still. And quiet. The only sounds were the men having fun downstairs and Len's soft snores. She shook her head, feeling silly as she reset the lock and the stool, taking the basin to the bed and snagging a hand towel from the small ratty pile that had been provided for them.
"Bathtime, love," she trilled as she sat beside him again. He snorted, jumping in startlement, before sitting up with a sheepish grin and taking the towel. He pulled off his shirt but left on his elf armor, pulling it away from his body to be able to clean his torso.
"Ah, it's cold!" he squealed, goosebumps pebbling his fair skin.
"Aye, princeling. You'll find hot water a luxury out on the road." She let a wicked grin melt onto her face. "Don't worry, I'll keep youniceand warm."
He bit his lip, flushing and darting a look at her, swiping the damp cloth over his skin to clean it. "I don't know—I m-might be too t-tired—"
She kissed his temple, nuzzling his face as she pulled back. "I was just flirting. I want you to get your rest. There'll be plenty of time for me to blow your back out when we get to the camps—"
The rattle of the window sash trying to lift rent their tender moment. When it refused to budge, a small hand punched through with the hilt of their dagger, making a hole for them to grope for the lock.
Daega was up in an instant, the basin full of water flying through the air to empty and shatter at her hooves. Her blade was drawn in her next breath, Len tugged off the bed to crouch beside it on the floor on the side farthest from the window, out of sight. Then she was across the bed and peeking out of the little window. She saw two men on the ground, cloaked and faces hidden, their builds too broad to be any of their elven guards. And to her horror, there were two more on the lower section of the roof, crawling across the thrush up towards them.
She almost missed the small figure crouched right under the window, a fifth member of the party that had come for them. But their dagger flashed in the moonlight, giving her just enough time to jump back and avoid the slash.
The angle was too awkward for her sword, so she drew her dagger from her boot, bringing it up and launching her own attack on the small figure trying to scrabble inside their room. They were bloody quick, ducking and slithering just out of the reach of her blade. But whoever they were, they'd never fought an Istarii Drakan before, or they never would have gotten so close.
The battle trance took her, pumping her blood faster and turning her lungs into powerful bellows that stoked the fire broiling inside her belly. She felt herself swell, and time started to slow, her eyes taking on the crimson glow at the edges that signified her sight—and most of her other senses—sharpening. Things began to feel like they were happening in slow motion, and finally—finally—she was able to slip past her opponent's guard.
