My body jolted awake.
In the distance, a pale skein of light tried to break the darkness of the cave. I blinked through the heaviness of my eyes, orienting to my predicament. I was in a cave, my body ached as if it had been pummeled by stones, and my fire was on its last breath of life.
With a bit of reluctance, I made a move to abandon the warmth of my oversized fur coat, and was promptly reminded I had not slept alone.
Nor with clothing.
One arm remained draped over Arvad’s waist. I closed my eyes against an unsettling dip in my stomach. His hand gripped mine, pressing my palm against his chest as if I were his lifeline. The heat of his bare chest, the thrum of his steady pulse, his steady breathing through the night became too inviting.
Hells, I hadn’t known last night if I’d be able to heat his body well enough. Not with the pelts I’d planned to use as cover were strewn outside somewhere, not with my joints and sharp edges the only thing I had to use against his long, broad form.
But he was alive. He’d stay alive.
Now, a severe part of me wanted to curl against the strength of his bare back once more, and bask in the safety of it. An irritating thought because I did not care much for Night Folk, and I did not know this man.
Even if he’d been grateful.
Even if his face was not abhorrent to look at.
Quite the opposite. He was young, strong, his brown skin like a fresh tea my maj used to make whenever I needed a bit of warmth before bed.
But he was fae. Night Folk! For all I knew his fury magic created an illusion over his true face that left me dumfounded and wanting to stare at him a little longer.
Careful not to wake him, I slid my hand out of his grip. He shifted, but didn’t wake as I rolled out from beneath the fur. The chill of morning quickly chased away any heat from his skin. I checked my trousers and tunic, singing praises to the gods that our clothing was dry. It wouldn’t do to huddle with a naked fae longer than necessary.
Arvad rolled onto his opposite shoulder with a deep, contended sigh.
A grin cut over my face. I could admit there was a bit of satisfaction knowing he survived, slept, and slept well because I had something to do with it. I’d never saved a life before. And, even if he was Night Folk, I was glad my clumsiness landed me beside him last night.
After dressing, I stepped outside. Wind cut through my tunic, but soon enough the sun would peak and it would be warm enough to descend the mountain. Doubtless my daj was pacing a new canyon in the cliffs by now.
The gash on my side ached, but in the morning light, was not as deep as I thought.
I gathered a few fallen nuts, some new kindling, a bit of snow to melt down, then returned to the cave.
My breath caught in the back of my throat when, in the fading light of embers, Arvad stood, half-naked, pulling his dry tunic over his broad shoulders.
I took a moment to admire the carved muscle of the fae. In my mind, I’d foolishly assumed Night Folk were sniveling tricksters with no real substance to them. Ambassador Vargus was gaunt, thin, and his skin reminded me of burned parchment pulled over sharp bones and points.
Arvad, well, he was nothing like Vargus.
He glanced over his shoulder at the shuffle of my boots. Lines of exhaustion carved his face, and his lips still held a hint of blue, but his eyes were dark and clear and captivating.
“Lilianna?”
I understood the tone of question. When I woke, for a moment, I wasn’t sure what had been real or made up in my mind.
“Arvad.” I took a step closer, hugging the wall of the cave. “You should use the fur. To make certain the chill is gone.”
“I’ll survive, thank you.”
The man hadn’t blinked. His eyes simply followed me as I inched toward the fire. They carved beneath my skin, as if he could see every inner thought. Perhaps, as Night Folk, he could.
I didn’t know all the things fury could do.
My skin prickled under his study, but I added more kindling to the embers, and tried to ignite the dying flames without much luck.
“Bleeding hells.” I stoked the weak fire. We needed it at the very least to melt the snow for my water flask.
For what seemed like endless hours, Arvad watched me work, arms folded. When I cursed again at a pathetic flame, he snapped his fingers. All at once the brilliant red shifted to a crystal blue, but burned hotter.
I stumbled back, startled.
Arvad moved around to my side, then sat, legs folded beneath him.
“What did you do? What is that?”
“Fire, Lilianna. It grows hot, and we cook things over it quite often.”
I shot him an irritated look. “I know what fire is, but . . . what happened to the flame?”
“Fury.” He sighed and reclined onto his palms, eyes on the fire. “Granted, I am not as skilled in Pyre fury as I am with common earth fury. Still, I think it should last.”
“Are you telling me you could’ve had a fire blazing in here all night.”
“Yes.” He faced me, the annoyingly attractive smirk still on his lips. “If, of course, I’d had my wits about me. I’m afraid I was rather frozen last night, and all I could think of was sleeping naked next to a strange woman.”
I rolled my eyes. “Seems fae men are much like Timorans. Shove a pair of breasts in their faces, and they lose their minds.”
Arvad laughed. A sound that warmed from the inside out.
I went closer to the fury fire with a touch of caution. When nothing about the flame seemed amiss but for the rich blue color. I placed the nuts over a few stones in the pit and watched the skin crackle and bubble.
“I did what I did last night to save you,” I said after a long pause. “Don’t get ideas, Fae.”
My breath caught in my throat when one of Arvad’s big hands rested on my shoulder. “I know, and I’m indebted to you. Forgive me, I do not mean to make light of what you did, but it is enjoyable watching your face turn red. I think I unsettle you, Lilianna.”
I snorted and turned the nuts over with the end of my stick. “Why would you think you do? Because you don’t.”
“Ah, yes, you’ve now convinced me.” He shook his head. “Admit it, I draw out unease in you.”
“Rather pretentious of you, Fae.”
“Yes. I have been told I am the definition of pretentious many times, Timoran.”
I lifted my eyes, and caught his white grin. All gods, the man was handsome, and his sharp tongue drew more than one smile.
Night Folk were not meant to be charming. They were the bearers of fury magic, the folk who treated Timorans like we were nothing but a boil on their back, not entertaining company.
“So, tell me, Arvad of Etta. What brought you into the high peaks at such a wretchedly cold hour.”
“Ah, it is quite a tale. One that ends rather embarrassing for me, I’m afraid.” He shifted, so he sat straight again. The blue flames cast his warm brown skin in a soft light, and I could not look away. “My companions and I came to speak with Ambassador Vargus. We thought we’d be clever and take a shorter trail through the peaks. It all falls to that bleeding fool”—he pointed at Svӓrd— “he decided to be skittish, and before I knew it, I had landed my foolish ass in a pool of ice.”
I checked the nuts, brows raised. “Your party must be searching for you.”
“No doubt. But I assume you did not trek the peaks alone either.”
“I am part of the royal hunting party.” I gathered the roasted nuts, and carefully used a flat stone to push some to Arvad. “If there are any separations we’re to meet at the base camp. They’ll wait there until nightfall before determining if they send a search party, or leave me for dead.”
Arvad wore a look of surprise.
I shrugged. “The peaks are dangerous. It is not always possible for the king to risk more skilled hunters in the frosts. Not when we already have such limited resources here.”
Unbidden, my voice took on a hint of bitterness. I hoped Arvad might dismiss it, but I had no luck at all.
“You could, you know.” He peeled back some of the nut skin. “Timoran folk, I mean. Etta has offered countless resources to your people. We’ve land, half the bleeding kingdom if your feckless king would simply accept the generosity.”
My mouth dropped. “Oh, is that what they tell you over in your fury-blessed land?”
“Yes, that is what they tell me. What is it they tell you in your frozen wasteland?”
“Waste—you, herr, are . . . well, you’re out of line. No folk work harder than Timorans, no folk fight like Timorans. We are survivors, raiders, and warriors. And you, what do you do? Whip your hand and create fire, or food, or beautiful soil while you grow fat on your satin pillows?”
Arvad chuckled. It was not meant to be funny. It was meant to be an insult.
With his dark eyes he inspected the shape of his broad chest, the thick muscle of his arms. “I’m not sure if I should be offended you called me fat, or insist you check your eyesight.”
“I am beginning to regret saving your life.”
“No you don’t.” Arvad scooted closer until our shoulders touched. He lowered his voice to a soft whisper. “Etta is not without its challenges, Lilianna. But I swear to you, by the gods, we have done what we can to bring your people over the peaks.”
I stared at him, waiting for a twitch of the cheek, maybe a fleeting glance to hint he was lying. Arvad didn’t blink, his eyes never left mine, breaking into me like black glass.
“How would you know? I am a close friend with our prince. Unless you have befriended your queen, how would you know? I have seen the Ettan queen, she is many turns your senior.”
He chuckled. “Yes, she is. But you could say I am a friend of the Ettan court. After the night I’ve had, I would not mind becoming a friend of Timoran. At least one Timoran.”
Blood rushed to my face. I turned away, and popped a few nuts onto my tongue.
Why did I enjoy his company so much? He was nothing. Our people were not exactly enemies, but nor were we allies. Yet, the first impulse I had was to accept the hand of friendship.
I needed to be on guard.
The truth was all of it could be a trick. A ruse of fury, an illusion. Arvad the fae could be saying things to get in my graces.
Why would he go to the effort? I had nothing he needed, was no one of importance. Not to a man of Etta, at least.
I wiped my hands and stood. “We should go before we are trapped on these peaks for another night.”
“Lilianna,” he said, scrambling to his feet.
A knot gathered in my throat as he came close enough I could make out the bits of green in the blackness of his eyes. Arvad towered over me, one hand on my arm. I shuddered, but didn’t pull back. Where last night his body was as blue and cold as the ice, now his skin radiated warmth.
Arvad must’ve realized how close he’d come, and cleared his throat, stepping back. “I do not know these cliffs the way you do. I would like to make a proposition. My horse for your help in finding my travel party.”
“Oh.” I tucked a lock of my damp hair behind my ear. “I really should go to the meeting point. I would not want any other hunters to risk their lives when mine is clearly not at risk.”
“Then we go there, but perhaps you might lead us on commonly used roads and we search for my friends at the same time. They are not fools, and are skilled trackers. They will keep to roads and trade routes as they search for me.”
The thought of riding down the mountainside, and not risking the loss of a toe was deliciously appealing.
I opened my mouth to respond, but hesitated. Did I believe Arvad’s tales? None of Vargus’s Ettan visitors ever came over the peaks. They took the pass in glided hansom cabs or black coaches with silver rimmed wheels, or open carriages with wheels that could be traded for ten bushels of roots in hard winters.
If he’d lied about his reason for being here, then what did he want?
Then again, if he had told the truth, Arvad would be someone of import to the Ettan courts and the consequence for saving him could be a reward. Hells, Daj and I could use a bit of a reward with the frosts on the horizon. A few fatted hogs? A season’s worth of dried herring and hot ale? Perhaps bags of copper and silver shim pieces.
“I can see your mind spinning.” Arvad grinned. “Allow me to assure you, Lilianna the Huntress—I will only be a fiend and unscrupulous should you ask. I have no ulterior motives while the sun is still high but to find your fellow hunters and my fellow Ettans.”
“You lie.” I turned on my heel and began gathering the fur coat.
“Lied about what?”
On my knees, I turned away from him, intent to hide the smile spreading across my face. “You said you would not be fiendish and unscrupulous unless I asked. You lie. I’m convinced you simply do not know how to be anything but unscrupulous.”
A furrow had gathered between his brows, but when I peeked over my shoulder, it faded as his laughter bellowed against the cave walls.
“My whole life I thought Timorans were harsh, humorless sorts. And here you are becoming one of my new favorite folk.”
“Ah, that is only because I saved you from your stupidness.”
Arvad gathered the water skins, his body brushed mine as he went past. “No, Lil—may I call you Lil? I think it has much more to do with the memory of your naked body pressed to mine all night.”
He laughed when heat rushed into my face. I wrinkled my nose and threw the last few nuts at his head.
Still, strange as it was, by the time I left the cave, arms wrapped tightly around Arvad’s waist, I couldn’t remember when I’d last laughed so much.