Although the River Elves had been the dominant power in Woodwyn for several centuries, the Wood Elves had begun to resent their rule. And well they should since the River Elves had started abusing their power, forcing too many Wood Elves into the army so they could fight wars for no apparent reason.
The Woodsman’s grip on the reins tightened. He knew the reason, and it never failed to anger him.
He took a deep breath and the scent of honeysuckle filled his head, giving him an odd sensation of comfort. Damn, but this woman was a distraction. A sweet one, an inner voice taunted him.
They left the creek, climbed a bank, then descended through a dark forest until they emerged onto a narrow road. The light of the twin moons gleamed brightly, making it easier to see. A few tendrils of Sorcha’s hair had escaped her braid and were curling along her brow and the slender nape of her neck. They looked so soft. And her little ears were sweetly rounded, just like the rest of her. Don’t think about that.
A short distance ahead, he spotted Father Kit’s lantern. He and Sorcha would soon catch up. That meant his time alone with her was almost over.
“While I was watching the battle, I saw something amazing,” he said softly. “The Norveshki soldiers were retreating as fast as they could, but I spotted a fallen soldier. Then I saw another soldier who turned back to save him. And I thought to myself—here’s a soldier like me, who refuses to leave a man behind. Here’s a soldier who knows the true meaning of honor, bravery, and loyalty.”
She tilted her head up to look at him. “Ye thought all that?”
He nodded. “You asked earlier why I was helping you. That is why. That soldier was you.”
Tears glistened in her eyes. “That has to be the most beautiful compliment I’ve ever received.”
Was she going to cry? Damn. He should have kept his mouth shut. One thing was for sure—he needed to get her to Eberon as fast as possible. The more time he spent with her, the more his self-control went up in smoke. He’d worked too hard and waited too long to complete his quest of vengeance. He couldn’t let anything stop him now.
Thankfully, she managed to blink away the tears. But then her gaze drifted to his mouth once again. Oh, hell.
“Sorcha,” he whispered. “Do you mean to tempt me?”
With a gasp, she faced front. “No! No, of course not.”
Of course not, he thought ruefully. Was he the only one feeling the air around them sizzle with heat?
Ahead of them, the injured man let out a moan.
“Aleksi!” Sorcha cried. “He’s awake! Let me down!”
The Woodsman pulled his horse to a stop, and she scrambled to the ground without even waiting for him to dismount.
She dashed to her friend, talking to him in Norveshki. “Aleksi, are you all right? I’m so glad you woke up! I was terribly worried!”
With a silent groan, the Woodsman realized he must be the only one feeling it.
This unfortunate longing.
Chapter 7
A ccompanied by six of her personal guards, Princess Jenetta stormed toward General Caladras’s tent. Incompetence. Failure. By the Light, someone was going to pay for this.
“Wait here,” she growled at her men, then waved the general’s guards aside. “Move.”
The general’s guards, all four of them, continued to block the entrance.
How dare these fools treat her like this? “Don’t you know who I am? Or do my guards need to explain it to you?”
The four men exchanged looks. No matter what their orders, they knew they couldn’t lay a hand on the future queen. Bowing their heads, they acknowledged defeat and stepped out of her way.
She gave the nearest one a shove as she strode into the tent. “Your guards are impertinent, General. I expect you to have them whipped.”
“For following orders?” Caladras stepped into the flickering light cast by the one candlestick on his dark wooden desk. “They were told not to let anyone in.”
“I am not anyone.”
“Of course, Your Highness. How kind of you to stop by.”
His sarcastic tone only added fuel to her rage. “Is it true what I heard? The Norveshki princess and dragon have escaped?” When the general didn’t answer quickly enough, she jabbed a finger in his direction. “Why are you even here? Shouldn’t you be with the search parties? First you failed to deliver my daughter, and now you’ve lost the prisoners! How many failures can you incur in one day?”
There was just enough light to see his jaw clench as he suppressed his anger. “Don’t push me, Princess. You still need our help.”
Our? She stiffened when she spotted movement in the dark shadows behind the general.
“Your Highness.” A man stepped forward, wearing a hooded cloak of rich maroon velvet. As he pushed the hood off his head, the light from the candlestick gleamed off the gold and jeweled rings adorning his spindly fingers.
It was Lord Morris, former head priest and chief counsel to the king of Eberon. Jenetta opened her mouth to greet him, but stopped when another man moved slightly forward. Shrouded in a black cloak, he even wore dark gloves to cover his hands. Still half in shadow, he declined to remove his hood.
The Chameleon. A chill prickled her skin as she stared at the dark hole in the hood where his face should be. As far as she knew, no one had ever seen what he really looked like. She turned away, not wanting him to sense how uneasy she felt in his presence.
Her gaze landed on the desk, where a brass pitcher of wine rested along with three goblets. Only three, one for each of these members of the Circle of Five. No wonder the general had ordered his guards not to let anyone in. The Circle of Five was holding a secret meeting in the middle of the night.
And she had not been invited.
Her anger rushed back, and she welcomed it for it made her feel stronger. More daring. Soon she would be queen, and she would make these men pay for not giving her the respect she deserved.
She pasted a wry smile on her face. “You must be getting old and forgetful, my dear general. It’s not like you to hold an important meeting without inviting me.”
“Forgive me,” he muttered as he filled a goblet with wine, then offered it to her.
She took a sip. “So tell me. How did the princess manage to escape with an unconscious dragon shifter?”
Caladras sighed. “The wooden poles of the cages were sliced neatly through. I believe the Woodsman has them. He also broke most of our arrows and spears during the ambush.”
The Woodsman. Jenetta scoffed. She was sick of hearing about this mysterious man. “So you’re telling me that one Embraced creature was able to disrupt the ambush and take our prisoners? How can one man wreak so much havoc? You should have killed him months ago!”
“I have every available man looking for him.” Caladras poured wine into the last two goblets. “There’s no need for you to be concerned. We’ll find him and the missing prisoners.”
Her hand tightened around the goblet. “How can I not be concerned? What did you do to the guard who lost the prisoners? I hope you had him executed.”
“He was whipped,” Caladras replied. “We can’t afford to lose any soldiers. We’ll need them in case the Woodsman attacks.”
Did the Woodsman have an army? A trickle of alarm slithered through her. Was this man going to be a threat to her gaining the throne? “How many followers does he have?”