Page 43 of Of Kings and Thieves

“Nothing,” I said quickly, not wanting to sound foolish. “Just thought I saw one earlier. Must have been my imagination.”

He eyed me thoughtfully, and I couldn’t help but feel like he was weighing his words carefully. “There are ravens around here, you know.”

“Right,” I agreed, trying to dismiss the nagging feeling that something wasn’t quite right. But the sight of those feathers haunted me, and I couldn’t help but wonder why only I seemed to see them.

“Samara,” Magnus said, his voice catching my attention again. “Is this really bothering you?”

“Maybe,” I said, “but don’t worry about it.”

“You’ve been working too hard,” he offered.

I shook my head. “No. I’m all right.”

It was the last night before reaching Ravenfell Pass, and once again, we had set up camp beneath the towering pines. This time, they were at a lower elevation, and the air was warmer. The tree branches creaked in the wind, and the scent of damp earth and pine needles filled the air. But there was an uneasy stillness around us, as if the forest itself held its breath.

Everyone felt it now, the feeling of being watched. There would be no fire tonight.

As we ate a cold meal in silence, a flicker of movement caught my eye. Another raven feather drifted lazily from Col’s shoulder, floating to the ground. My heart skipped a beat as I watched it fall. No one else seemed to notice.

I was just about to say something when he stood and unsheathed his sword. “Ready?”

More training. Of course. The feather was quickly forgotten as I shoved the rest of my food in my mouth and joined Col beneath the trees. My muscles ached from days of intense practice, but my body yearned for the closeness that came with each sweaty, challenging moment spent in his company.

“I thought we needed to maintain quiet... for secrecy,” I said as we found a suitable space. Killian and Magnus had followed.

“This is more important,” Col said, removing his shirt and tossing it on the forest floor.

Almost full, the moon hung heavy in the sky, casting long shadows across the campsite as Col and I stood facing each other, our swords raised. The air was thick with tension, an electric charge that seemed to crackle between us as we circled one another, our eyes locked.

I tried to ignore the way my heart raced at the sight of his broad, muscular form, the flex of his powerful arms. My sword felt strangely heavy in my grip, my palms slick with sweat.

“Samara,” Col snapped, bringing me back to reality. His hazel eyes bored into mine, searching for any sign of weakness. “The Harrow’s soldiers won’t wait for you to gather your thoughts.”

He lunged forward, his sword flashing in the moonlight. I parried his blow, feeling the reverberation through my arm as the steel met steel.

We sparred like this for several minutes, trading blows and counterstrikes, our movements growing more graceful and confident as the night wore on. Each time our swords clashed, I felt a thrill shoot through me, a fierce satisfaction that came from knowing I could hold my own against him, at least for a few moves.

But the tension remained, a heavy weight that settled over us like a shroud. With every touch, every near miss, I found myself drawn closer to Col, the need to feel his body against mine growing stronger and more insistent.

“Enough,” he growled finally, stepping back and lowering his sword. His chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath, his eyes dark and intense as they met mine.

“I’m not done,” I said, my frustration fueling my movements.

I attacked once more, and this time, Col wasn’t ready. He brought up his sword at the final moment, but not before I drew a line of blood along his forearm.

“Shit!” Horrified, I almost dropped my sword. Col seized my arm and spun me around so that my back was to a tree. Then he brought his own sword to my throat.

“Dead,” he remarked. “You should have tried to follow through.”

“Well done, Samara!” Magnus said. I vaguely registered more praise from him, but only had eyes for Col. He towered over me, so close I could smell the fresh blood on his arm.

I cut you.

So you did. The pride in his gaze sent a surge of warmth through me, but it was quickly overshadowed by the hunger in his eyes. “Get lost,” he said to Magnus and Killian without taking his eyes off me.

“Don’t order them around like that,” I said.

“Why?”

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