Quinn stabs a finger in her face. “And don’teverfucking apologize for defending yourself.”
Duly chastised, she gives him a solemn nod. “Never again.” She slides her weapon into the sheath belted around her trim waist. Then she extends her hand for him to shake. “Peace?”
He also sheaths his sword but ignores her hand and drapes a tattooed arm around her shoulders. The markings look as if he dipped his hands in black ink, and it dripped up his forearms. “You are the only thing in this miserable world that gives me joy, Princess.” He tugs her in closer against his side and kisses the side of her head. “I starve. Let’s bother Bryce and see what that ornery prick is roasting in the kitchen.” They stroll toward the keep, with Quinn saying to Dax and me from over his shoulder, “You wenches coming with us, or are you going to stand there gossiping all morning?”
“I’m going to kill him one of these days.”
At Dax’s empty promise, Quinn grunts out a laugh. “I’m not so hungry that we can’t have a go right now.”
Dax kicks the back of Quinn’s knee, causing our soulless friend to wobble. “It’s been a while since I beat the shit out of you.”
Having been with us long enough, Rapunzel leaps out of harm’s way.
Quinn palms his sword. “A while? Try never, you bastard.”
“Damned right, I’m a bastard.” Dax Stafford’s father, Sir Simon Baines, never claimed him. The two men met once, which apparently was enough for both of them. “And I believe you reminded Rapunzel that all is fair in battle. Or am I mistaken?”
“Come to me, Rapunzel.” I hold out my hand. “This is going to get ugly.”
“Anything with Quinn in it is ugly,” Dax quips.
“Ugly. Bloody. Same difference.” Quinn, walking backward toward the lists, twirls his broadsword.
Rapunzel runs to me and wraps her arms around my waist, and it’s the most natural thing for me to kiss the side of her head. Fuck. There was a time when I feared I’d never touch this woman. Back when she was locked in that goddamn tower, and I was stuck on the outside desperately trying to convince her to come away with me. Now she’s mine.Ours. I planned to share her with Quinn and Dax as a means of degradation. As an act of revenge after I learned her hair had the power to heal the sick and the injured. I hated her for doing nothing when she could have saved my father from the poison John used to kill him.
Instead, Rapunzel rejoiced in her freedom. She reveled in our touch after a lifetime of loneliness. Now, when the four of us are together, we are at our strongest.
We’re aware our relationship breaks every societal rule, and if the nine other renegades who live within Dyhurst Castle’s walls oppose our arrangement, they keep their opinion private. Although more often than not we’re discreet with open displays of passion, we don’t hide our affection for Rapunzel.
And what an eclectic clan we have here. Each man here is a former member of the royal military. Emma Heathe of Weston, a noble who witnessed her family struck down by John, was the lone woman until Rapunzel made our family complete.
Hatred for the king brought us together.
Kinship keeps us together and thriving.
May Quinn and Dax remember this as steel clashes on the lists.
The noise draws the attention of Arthur, as always he is busy tending the garden. Usually, Rapunzel and Emma toil in the dirt with him, but not these last few weeks. Not when training Rapunzel takes precedence over all else. The commotion even brings out some other men to watch the melee.
Emma, though, barges through the crowd of four massive men. Wiping her hands on the apron tied around her waist, she marches up to us. Rapunzel and I stand on the edge of lists watching as Dax and Quinn beat on each other. They’ve already drawn blood, and while Quinn’s ass has taken the brunt of Dax’s sword, something tells me Dax sliced him there purposely.
Emma swipes stray chestnut strands of hair away from her eyes. “One day, Quinn is going to kill that man.”
“It’s all in good fun.” Tristan, arms crossed over his broad chest, spits on the ground. He mutters something to Ian that has the fair-haired truant royal soldier chuckling.
Also, it makes for great entertainment.
“Quinn would never hurt Dax,” Rapunzel announces. She’s still sweaty from her fight. When Quinn whips around and uses the hilt of his sword to strike Dax hard between the shoulder blades, she adds, “Although it does seem like he’s having a bittoomuch fun.”
Dax, who was trained by the best, puts up a damn decent fight but loses gained ground when Quinn lunges. Quinn follows through with a flurry of offensive moves that drives Dax backward. Cursing, Dax counters with rapid strikes that tear at Quinn’s arms and chest, shredding him.
Rather than put Dax back on the defensive, Quinn jumps away, wipes sweat from his brow and cringes when he glances at the damage to his body. “I yield.”
“Aye. Same,” Dax agrees, heaving. He inspects a rather nasty gash on his forearm before sheathing his sword. “Unlike you and our lady, I don’t have the power to heal. Emma, sweetling, would you be so kind as to get your needle and thread? I require your superior sewing skills.”
“Perhaps if I use my superior sewing skills to stitch his mouth closed, he wouldn’t have this issue,” she mumbles. Then louder, “How can I deny you when you ask so nicely?” She gestures at Dax. “That one knows you get more flies with honey than vinegar. Now, you mind your men while I fetch my kit.”
“I’ll try, but they tend to misbehave,” Rapunzel calls after her.
