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Because Prince Cristen had ruined Ava’s gown, Liadan took off her own fur cloak and wrapped it reverently around Ava. She then lifted the princess into her arms and turned back toward the castle, heading through a secret passage Ava recognized immediately. Ava knew before she even saw Lysa that it was Lysa who had helped Liadan: the Knight of the Wild hadn’t been at Castle Caradin long enough to have learned all the secret passages, but Lysa would have known this one.
The passage led beyond the castle wall, to an empty field, where the snow fell over the frozen lake. Ava recognized it as the edge of her father’s hunting grounds. In the distance, she could see the forest and how the snow capped the dark trees. It was quiet and serene here, as behind them, the bell rang frantic in the tower, men shouted and horns were blown: Prince Cassian and Prince Cristen (and the assassin) had been found dead in the courtyard, and Princess Ava’s absence had been realized.
Lysa was waiting nearby, shivering in the snowfall, wearing a fur cloak over her simple gown and carrying a bundle in her arms. Beside her were two saddled horses, one white, the other brown, and beside the horses stood a knight Ava didn’t recognize. When Liadan set Ava on her feet, the princess hesitated uncertainly.
The strange knight was tall and strong like Liadan, beautiful, with fiercely slanted gray eyes, and on the front of her beautifully engraved silver breastplate was the sigil of a sparrow, wings spread. Her dark brown hair had been pulled back in a messy bun, her helm was under her arm, and snow was collecting on her hair. She smiled politely when she saw Ava and bowed.
“May I present Ethne Cawthorne, the Knight of the Sparrow,” said Liadan.
Ava lifted her brows, impressed. “The Cawthornes?”
“The very ones. At your service, your highness,” the apparent Ethne said, smiling.
The Cawthornes were an ancient and noble house and had turned out some of the best warriors in the seven kingdoms. Ava wasn’t surprised that a Cawthorne was friends with the likes of Liadan: it would take a true warrior to keep up with the Knight of the Wild.
“She is my fiercest and most loyal friend,” went on Liadan proudly, “and we have shed blood for each other. She can be trusted.”
Ava nodded graciously at the knight. This Ethne, like Liadan, was tousled, breathless, and stained in blood. So Liadan hadn’t stormed the castle corridors alone. She owed both knights a debt of gratitude.
“I am in your debt for keeping my Liadan safe,” Ava said to the knight.
“I am in your debt for ensnaring her heart,” returned Ethne with a crooked smile. “Tis about time my dearest friend knew a woman’s touch. Most of her life hath been a dry spell, if you can believe it, and she would scold those who would seek pleasure themselves—”
“Ethne!” Liadan growled, tensing up.
Ava giggled behind her hand. Then her eyes went to Lysa, who shrank beneath her gaze. She felt guilty to see Lysa so miserable and meek: while journeying through the passages, Liadan had told her how Lysa had been forced to betray her, and how it was Lysa who had come to Liadan, begging that she save Ava from her marriage.
“Do not cringe, dearest Lysa,” said Ava soothingly. “All is forgiven. I did not understand before, but I understand your predicament now.”
A look of relief passed through Lysa’s brown eyes. She moved close, still a little meek but happy now. “Here,” she said, pulling a gown from her bundle. “I managed to slip into your bedchamber and get you some clothes. I brought you a cloak as well . . .”
“And no one noticed you?” said Ava in surprise.
Lysa smiled. “No one notices peasants, your highness,” she said, and for some reason, she caught eyes with Ethne and gave her a reproving look. Ethne only smiled as if she wanted to say something – perhaps some joke – but deciding better, the knight held her tongue. Ava stared at the two, wondering at their silent exchange.
“Here,” Lysa said again, holding out the gown. It was pale blue, one of Ava’s simple traveling gowns.
Remembering that she was naked beneath Liadan’s cloak, Ava sighed in relief. “You are so sweet to me, Lysa,” she said, and Lysa blushed. Ava dropped the cloak away, revealing her nudity, and saw the Knight of the Sparrow’s intrigued eyes immediately go to her great breasts. Liadan’s lips tightened, and seeing this, Ethne laughed, rolled her eyes, and looked away.
Holding back a laugh, Ava looked at Lysa, who was blushing bright as she avoided looking at Ava’s body. “Help me dress!” Ava said, gesturing. “Quickly!”
Once Ava had donned her gown and fur cloak, Liadan put her own cloak back on again. “Lift me, my knight!” Ava regally commanded, and the Knight of the Wild obeyed, taking Ava by the waist and lifting her easily onto the dark brown horse – Ava's lashes fluttered in delight – before mounting behind her and taking the reins.
Ethne likewise attempted to lift Lysa by the waist, but Lysa was having none of it. She smacked Ethne’s reaching gauntlets away, and with a haughty jerk of her chin, clumsily mounted the horse herself with the bundle clutched haphazardly under one arm.
Ava knew Lysa had never ridden a horse in her life and would have been better off allowing Ethne to help her. Everyone watched the handmaiden scramble, and by the time she had straightened up, her brown hair was in her face. She impatiently smacked it back and avoided everyone’s eye.
Ethne, meanwhile, seemed very amused by Lysa’s clear disdain for her. Smirking, she climbed up into the saddle behind Lysa and reached around her, taking the reins. One of her strong arms closed sudden and hard around Lysa to keep her from falling sideways when she suddenly slipped, and Ava saw Lysa blush with an odd mixture of pleasure and embarrassment. The little handmaiden didn’t meet anyone’s eye as the knights snapped their reins and the horses took off.
Despite everything that was happening, Ava couldn’t help feeling joyously unchained. She was finally, finally free of her marriage, her duty, and a life she had never wanted, finally free to live as she pleased, do as she pleased! She loved the feel of Liadan’s hard armor brushing her back, the heat of Liadan’s breath on her ear, the way the racing horse made her heart thunder in her chest as they bounced along.
Glancing over, Ava noticed how Lysa’s small breasts were bouncing behind her gown. Her cloak had blown open as the white stallion carried her and Ethne forward, and Ethne could be seen occasionally peering over Lysa’s shoulder at her jiggling breasts. What was more, Lysa seemed to know this was happening and enjoyed taunting the knight. She was deliberately allowing her cloak to hang open and had allowed her laces to sag a little loose as well.
As they were racing along, Ava managed to catch Lysa’s eye. Lysa’s brown eyes sparkled mischievously, and they grinned at each other.
They rode for a day and a night, putting as much distance between themselves and Castle Caradin as possible. It wasn’t until they stopped in a little wood to camp that it occurred to Ava to even wonder where they were going. She was exhausted and sore from the ride, she was hungry, she was cold. What would they do for food? She didn’t know how to hunt. She didn’t know how to do . . . anything, and the realization was both embarrassing and painful. She couldn’t even sew her own clothes, a skill most princesses learned at a fairly young age.
Ava felt useless as everyone else set about building the camp. Ethne went off to gather firewood (Ava offered to help but was told it was too dangerous), and when that was done, Liadan cast golden light from her hands, creating a fire that spread its delicious warmth over the camp. Lysa then took out a few hares she’d stolen from Caradin’s kitchen and started preparing a stew with her little cauldron. So everyone else contributed . . . while Ava sat there and was waited on. She hated it. So to compensate, Ava ordered everyone around and pretended she had assigned them their tasks.
No one was cruel to Ava about her seeming ineptitude and haughtiness. Instead, they all seemed quite amused and pretended as if they hadn’t noticed.
And so, as the sun rose over the gray wintry sky, they ate hare stew and bread and discussed their plans for the journey ahead.
“So we are headed to a temple in Hastow?” asked Ava, confused. “But why?”
“Sanctuary,” said Liadan, gazing grimly into the fire. “At first, Ethne and I were just going there for work. But now . . . Now the king of Almara will be after us. He’ll want justice for his sons. A temple would offer sanctuary. We would be safe from the law there.”
“But you said there was an assassin in the courtyard,” said Lysa, just as confused as Ava, it seemed. “Wouldn’t they believe the assassin responsible for the princes?”
Ethne shook her head. “Would be mighty convenient, wouldn’t it? Except Ava is missing, and now, so is Liadan. Once King Eyvor realizes she’s left the capital, he’ll put two and two together—”
“And make six. Then I shall be blamed for Elric’s sons,” added Liadan darkly, “and in truth, I did slay one of them. I would deserve execution.”
“Don’t say that!” said Ava at once. “You were defending my honor! Prince Cristen got what he deserved.” She glared into space, remembering how the prince had torn her gown and pulled her hair.
“Whatever the case,” said Ethne, “we shall move on to Hastow and seek sanctuary, then we shall make our move from there.”
“We could away to Wildoras,” said Liadan thoughtfully. “My people wouldn’t ask questions if I returned, so long as I didn’t return to my own tribe. And all of you would be welcome there.”
“Hmm. I suppose we have no other options,” said Ethne tiredly. “We’ll be wanted across the seven kingdoms now. There’ll be a bounty on our heads and nowhere to run.”
Ava stared at her feet. The initial euphoria of her sudden freedom had washed away, and now the cold, hard reality of exile was settling over her. She would never have a normal life, with a home and a warm bed. Not in the seven kingdoms, anyway. And unless they made it to Wildoras, they would always live on the run.
Ava looked up when she felt the back of Liadan’s gentle fingers touching her cheek. The knight had removed her gauntlets to eat her stew, and her blue eyes as she gazed down at Ava were warm and kind.
“Fear not, my love,” Liadan said in her pleasant, deep alto. “I shall protect you with my life, and we shall survive this together, you and I. I did not risk everything to take you from the castle only to perish now.”
Ava gazed up at tall Liadan and managed a trembling smile, thinking how she loved her so much.
After supper, Ethne volunteered to take first watch as the others rested. The knights spread out their bedrolls, and Ava was amused to see Lysa realizing she would have to share a bedroll with Ethne when the time came. For now, however, she would sleep in Ethne’s bedroll alone as the Knight of the Sparrow sat beside the fire, guarding the camp.
Ava cuddled up in Liadan’s bedroll with her. The knight kept her armor on (the better to be ready for a fight) but left her gauntlets off to the side. She lay on her back, staring at the stars, as Ava lay on her back beside her, sinking in the massive nest of her golden hair. The sheepskin spread over them, stopping under their chins.
“I thought I would never see you again,” Liadan whispered very low, so that Ethne would not hear from her seat at the fire. On the other side of Liadan, Lysa was sleeping peacefully in Ethne’s bedroll.
“I thought the same,” said Ava sadly, thinking on that horrible day and how everything had seemed to go so wrong: first Liadan was taken from her, then Prince Cassian was murdered, she was almost killed by an assassin and nearly assaulted by Prince Cristen, and then she was forced to flee with a bounty likely now on Liadan’s head . . .
Hopefully, it would all be worth it in the end. Ava couldn’t imagine she would have been happy had she stayed behind, even with both Cassian and Cristen dead. Her father would have just married her off to another prince to form another alliance. At least now she was free . . . for however long it lasted.
“I shall always be your knight,” Liadan said earnestly. “Nothing and no one shall part us again.”
Ava glanced over and her heart leapt in her throat: Liadan was gazing at her with that intense fire in her eyes. Ava felt the knight’s hand reaching under the sheepskin, searching for her. The hand found one of her breasts and squeezed it firmly through the fabric, so that Ava blushed. She immediately felt the blood rush to her sex, the swell of arousal between her thighs, the pump of her eager clitoris, and Liadan smiled as if she could tell how much Ava desired her.
Put your hands on me, Ava thought, breathless with arousal. Those hard, strong hands . . . “Liadan,” she whispered aloud, “make love to me . . .”
Liadan obeyed. The knight roughly unlaced the front of Ava’s gown, until her heaving breasts rose from it, lifting and falling with her anxious breaths, and ducking her head under the sheepskin, Liadan buried her face in Ava’s breast and suckled ravenously on her rigid pink nipple, so that Ava gasped. The hard, strong hand that Ava loved so much groped under her skirt and slid down her panties, and as Liadan roughly fingered Ava’s sex and sucked hard at her nipple, Ava moaned and arched her back against the pleasure, thrusting out her big breasts and sighing in delight.
***
THEY CONTINUED ON DUE east, always pressing toward Hastow, and due largely to the snow, they had little choice but to keep to the open road and risk encountering other travelers. For this reason, they traveled always at night and camped near the woods during the day, as the roads were far busier during daylight.
Ava had never camped before, let alone left Caradin Castle. She found it difficult, if not downright agony, sleeping on the hard ground, in the cold, and eating dried meat and aging bread, wearing the same smelly gown every day. She missed her beautiful gowns and jewelry, missed her big soft bed and the fire in her bedchamber. She missed hot roasted meat and fresh bread warm from the oven....
But suffer as she did, spoiled princess though she was, Ava was determined not to complain or show discomfort. Especially not to Liadan, a barbarian warrior who had lived much of her childhood in the wild, in forests, hunting wild boar and sleeping on the ground. Their rough, cold days and nights were probably trivial to Liadan, and Ava did not want to appear spoiled or weak before her.
Ava also had to admit that she was terrified. If they were captured before they could claim sanctuary in Hastow, Liadan would be executed, and so would Lysa and Ethne for aiding her. Even if Ava’s father would rather spare them, to do so would risk open war with Almara, who would want Liadan punished. King Eyvor’s hand would be forced.
But as Ava lay awake with her anxious thoughts, Liadan remained as calm and resigned as usual. The way she carried on, it were as if they were back at the castle, Ava thought – as if Prince Cassian and the assassin had never happened. They would be lying in their bedroll together, and then Liadan would grab Ava, roughly undo her gown, and grope her and finger her to a sobbing climax – so casually, and yet with such confidence and strength that Ava shuddered as she grew moist.
Some mornings, when it was Liadan’s turn to keep watch, Ava would sit up with her. She would sit on the knight’s lap, and Liadan would stroke her hair, and as the others slept nearby in their bedroll, they would speak in whispers of their lives.
Because of Liadan, Ava was now so fascinated with the barbarians of Wildoras that she felt like her father. But she couldn’t help it. She wanted to know everything about Liadan – not just about her culture but also her personal life: her family, her friends, what it was like to live at the knight academy in the capital. Everything.
Serious, dutiful Liadan was always patient, if not amused by Ava’s questions, and answered readily, one gauntlet absently stroking Ava’s long golden tresses as the princess sat in her lap.
“No, Ethne was not my only friend, thank the gods,” Liadan said in answer to Ava’s question. She sounded quite amused.
It was another white wintry morning, and they were camping on the edge of the wood, as birds chirped, and streams of cold sunlight fell over the snowbanks. Liadan had lit a fire yet again with her magick, and its golden light spilled hot over them. The flames were like liquid, twisting and rising from the circle of stone.
“No, I was not ostracized. Though I am a foreigner, there is much respect for my people in your land,” Liadan went on. “I was welcomed warmly when I did arrive and had many friends. Ethne was simply the closest. Perhaps because we were both exiles and bonded over the fact. She and I, though different in temperament, are alike in many ways.”
Ava’s brows went up in surprise, and she looked over to the bedroll where Ethne slept on her back beside Lysa. “Ethne was exiled?” she cried in amazement. “For what?”
Liadan hesitated. “It is not my place to tell you, sweet princess. Ethne is deeply ashamed of what transpired. Perhaps she shall tell you herself one day, if you gently inquire.”
Ava didn’t quite know what to think. The Cawthornes were upstanding people not given to crime or cruelty. That one of their own had been exiled meant the crime a grave matter. Had Ethne killed someone? Ava found it hard to imagine smiling, joking Ethne a murderer, though she had to admit she had noticed a foul temper in the otherwise gentle knight: while they were resting on the side of the road, Ethne had viciously kicked a tree over some trivial matter, shocking Lysa.
Liadan, meanwhile, was the exact opposite. The Knight of the Wild was cold in her anger. She had cut off Prince Cristen’s head quite dispassionately and had only shown emotion when worried for Ava.
“What of your other friends at the academy?” Ava asked.
“There were twenty other women in our year,” Liadan answered, “and seventy-men, all brave and righteous and loyal allies. Two were good friends with Ethne and I. There was Saoirse, the Knight of the Lion. She hailed from City Arina not far from here. A very loyal friend and a mighty warrior. She wasn’t exactly in our year, but she was well-respected in the academy, and we took to her.”
“What was she like?” Ava asked curiously.
Liadan smiled. “Golden hair like yours, though quite thick and wild. She was always very serious and not given much to speech. A proper warrior.”
Ava held back a laugh: Liadan approved of Saoirse because she was so like herself. “And the other one?” she asked.
“The other was known as Rowan, the Knight of Thorns, a sigil she made herself.”
“What did she look like?”
“A dark-haired warrior. She was a princess once, like you.”
Ava looked up at Liadan, startled. “Truly?”
“Aye,” answered Liadan. “She was princess of Realm Almara and sister of Prince Cassian and Prince Cristen.”
Ava stared. “It can’t be true. I have never heard of the princes having a sister!”
“And nor would you,” answered Liadan darkly. “Rowan was stricken from the records and exiled to the academy at quite a young age.”
Ava’s mouth fell open. “But why?”
“When she was a child, she was seen kissing another girl. Her father was ashamed and sent her away to hide the disgrace. They do not tolerate women like us in Almara.”
Ava stared at her lap, realizing for the first time just how much her father had cared for her. King Eyvor had known since Ava was a child that she fancied women. It was half the reason he had chosen Lysa to be her companion: Lysa was rumored to fancy other girls as a child and had been shamed for it publicly in the market. The king hadn’t wanted his daughter to live alone or to believe there was no one in the world like her.
Perhaps King Eyvor had thought Ava only fancied feminine women and that she could never love or desire a big, masculine barbarian like Liadan. And yet, Ava had spent years longing in secret for the women knights at Caradin. What a fool her father had been.
Ava realized she must have looked unhappy, for she felt Liadan’s gauntlet soothingly stroking her hair again.
“Won’t Rowan be angry you slew her brother?” Ava asked to change the subject.
To Ava’s surprise, Liadan chuckled. “On the contrary, your highness,” said the knight, amused, “she would shower me with kisses. She was always very playful in that regard.”
“Did she not love her brother?” cried Ava, shocked.
“Cristen used to bully her to tears,” Liadan answered darkly, “so no. She did not.”
Ava used to long for siblings when she was a child. Now she wondered if her lonely childhood hadn’t been something of a blessing. Besides, she hadn’t been that lonely, for she’d had Lysa.
“And your sister?” Ava asked. “Didn’t she attend the same academy?”
“No,” answered Liadan a little sadly. “She was sent to another academy in Realm Truever but sought work in Hastow to be nearer to me.” Liadan smiled, gazing off happily. “Ceana is a sweet creature and good to the bone. You will love her.” She looked down at Ava. “And she shall love you like family.”
Ava smiled to see the affection in Liadan’s eyes. “I wish I could meet all your family,” she said. “What would it be like if we lived with your tribe? I know we could not, but still, I wonder.”
Liadan gazed off wistfully. “Had I been my mother’s eldest daughter, I would have been queen.” She looked down at Ava and affectionately pinched her chin. “You would be my woman, and I would love and protect you, as I do now, only there would be no constant fear of capture and execution, and we would have many strong daughters.”
Ava laughed, delighted. “But how? We’re two women!”
Liadan only smiled. “Wildoras women are beings of magick. We have the blood of the first people, from a time when there were no men. There are ways.” She released Ava’s chin, looked past her, and said no more.
***
NOW THAT THE THOUGHT of living in Wildoras had been put in Ava’s mind, it was difficult to stop daydreaming. She was a princess. She had always expected to enter an arranged marriage, have sex she didn’t want or enjoy, and have unwanted children with a man she felt nothing for.
Now, for the first time in her life, a happy marriage was a possibility. She was bubbling inside with joy. For even though Liadan could not return to her tribe and could not become queen, there was still the possibility of a carefree life in the wild. Wildoras was outside of the law of the seven realms: none of the kingdoms would dare march on a nation of magi warriors just to avenge Prince Cassian and Prince Cristen.
Because she couldn’t contain her excitement, Ava found herself giggling about her daydreams with Lysa one morning as they gathered firewood. They had started on the edge of the wood, as Ethne was worried about them going too far into the trees, and the knights were not thirty feet away at the camp, where they were setting up stones for the fire and tending the horses. But Ava, foolish and rebellious, had led them deeper into the trees, the better to find more firewood.
“So the legends are true,” said Lysa in wonder, her thin arms full of sticks. “The women of Wildoras can reproduce woman with woman! I had always thought those fairytales, but I can’t see why Liadan would lie to you. I wonder how it’s done.”
“Liadan said her people have ancient blood from a time when there were no men,” Ava said thoughtfully. “I thought perchance it were some spell, but now I am thinking it were baser than that.”
“I didn’t know you wanted children,” said Lysa curiously.
Ava bent down, collected another stick, and added it to the bundle in her arms, her golden hair swinging back as she stood again. “Well, that was before, when I thought I must marry a man. Now that I know I can have children with Liadan, I can think of little else. They would be beautiful and wild, some with red hair, some with gold.” She smiled dreamily.
Lysa smiled. “You are really quite taken with her. It is sweet.”
Ava angled her pale lashes down and blushed prettily. But it was true. She felt overwhelmed by her love for her Liadan, and she was excited to spend many happy years with her.
“And you are taken with Ethne,” Ava teased, “though you shant admit it.” She laughed when Lysa blushed indignantly.
“I am not taken with that dog!” Lysa hotly declared.
Ava stopped laughing and gently implored, “But why do you hate her so?”
“She’s arrogant,” Lysa said at once. “She thinks I am beneath her! A piece of meat! A conquest for her to brag about to Liadan! I am nothing to her—” Lysa’s words halted in her throat when an arrow zipped by her head, missing her by inches.
Ava screamed as another arrow came and grabbed Lysa, pulling her to the ground. They fell in the snow in a spray of white, dropping their bundles of firewood.
Ava sat up on her elbow and pushed the hair back from her face in time to see men in ragged leathers – bandits!—approaching through the trees. There were three of them, unshaven and rank, with stringy hair. One bandit had a bow and the other two were carrying chipped swords. The one with the bow lowered his weapon so his friends could approach ahead of him.
“What do we have here?” said the tallest man, sword in hand. “Two little rabbits lost in the woods! And such fat tits!” He looked at Lysa with greedy eyes, and the handmaiden shrank down in terror. “Gonna take my time with these ones!”
The other bandits laughed.
Lysa grabbed Ava’s arm and cringed against her. Tears were already streaming down her face. Ava went to hold her and soothe her, but the tall bandit grabbed Lysa by the hair and dragged her to him, screaming. He yanked Lysa to her feet, grinning all the while, and as his friends laughed, he tugged at Lysa’s dress, so that one of her breasts shivered free.
“Leave her alone!” Ava screamed angrily, heart racing.
Lysa twisted and fought to get away, but the bandit held on, chuckling darkly. He groped her breast in a hard hand, and blushing angrily, Lysa screamed and elbowed him in the face in a spurt of blood. The bandit cursed (“Foul wench!”) and released Lysa, clutching his bloody mouth and nose. Lysa fell on hands and knees in the snow, panting shrilly.
“Ethne!” Lysa screamed, tears in her eyes. “ETHNE!”
“Shut her up!” snarled the tall bandit, and to Ava’s horror, the bandit with the bow nocked an arrow and grinned as he aimed it at the back of Lysa’s head. But he didn’t have a chance to shoot – a stream of golden fire hit him full in the face, and he fell down in the snow, screaming and flailing, until he suddenly fell still. He was dead.
The other two bandits barely had time to look around: the second bandit choked as Liadan thrust her sword – which was glowing with golden fire – straight through his belly. He coughed golden fire and blood, his eyes distant in shock, and when Liadan viciously ripped the blazing sword free, he fell down dead.
Meanwhile, the tall bandit who had assaulted Lysa was cut off mid-scream as Ethne’s sword flashed around and took off his head. As his shocked head bounced away, trailing blood across the blank snow, his body remained standing a moment, blood squirting from the neck, before suddenly collapsing.
“My princess,” said Liadan, her voice trembling, “did they hurt you?” She knelt before Ava, and her frightened blue eyes searched Ava’s face.
It took Ava a moment to realize she was crying – not for herself but for Lysa. With a sob, she fell forward in Liadan’s arms and closed her eyes for a moment, relieved and soothed to feel the strength of the knight’s hard embrace.
Ava opened her eyes again when she heard singing: Ethne was kneeling and holding Lysa in her arms. Lysa was clinging to her and sobbing desperately. Ethne kissed Lysa’s brown hair, stroked her hair down, and sang in a low, soft voice. Her voice was surprisingly pretty, and Lysa, wrapped in the knight’s strong embrace, happily closed her eyes and relaxed as Ethne’s sweet song carried for her.
The Knight of the Sparrow indeed.