I shake my head. Both deeds are done. Both men, husband and thief, are dead alike. No use lamenting over it. I am alive, and so is Anassa. I’d trust my knife again to keep us so.
I head towards the carriage, thinking she may have sought shelter there, when I hear shuffling from the three pens in the stables. The first and last are occupied, the brown horses of the carriage twisting their ears at me as I approach.
And in the middle pen, its door ajar, Anassa sits on the straw, bottle at hand.
Forest eyes find me, as they always do, grabbing my gaze, my breath, my heart. I want to yell at her, scold her, send her back to bed where she’ll be safe, saddle the horses and fall off the edge of the world with her. Instead, I keep my voice small and sweet as I enter the pen and close the door behind me. ‘Are you going to drink this bottle by yourself?’ I ask.
Instead of an answer, the world explodes in pinpricks of black.
I feel it like a flock of ravens, circling me, enveloping me entirely in their feathers as they bring me down to the straw floor, like a million little hearts beating outside my body, meeting on my lips. I haven’t closed my eyes, so I witness it: the moment the feathery dark parts, and the woman emerges. Solid. Sweet. Anassa kisses me, and it’s the softest death of all. Her lips taste like strong drink and even stronger impetus, inevitable even in their softness. Fated.
I would kill a hundred husbands just to get us to this moment.
As suddenly as she started it, Anassa pulls back, hair wild, eyes anxious, searching my face for any signs of shock, of dismay. How do I tell her I’ve been yearning for this moment since that meadow, when the rain was sweet and her pulse feathered a strange song under my palms? When her body squirming underneath mine felt so delicious I could melt?
I decide words won’t do.
Instead, I pin my blackbird on the wall, in such a perfect mirroring of when we first met, that I know she feels it too. The way my knife bit into her throat that time, the way I grabbed her by the hair to bend her tomy will. Only this time, no knives are needed. I take her life slowly, willingly, breath by excruciating breath, as my teeth and tongue attack her, my need lashing out with a force that almost scares me. I bite, I nuzzle, I explore, her lips, her tongue, her cheek, smothering her glorious scar with kisses until I’m on her neck, chasing away the fading bruises or creating fresher ones with abandon. Her every little whimper thrums within me, heat and hunger rising in my core, until it’s not enough, it’s not enough, this stupid wool dress keeping me from the silk of her skin should be torn to shreds for its crimes, but I find another path. Famished to get as much access to her naked flesh as possible, my hands fly upward on her thighs until her whimpers turn to moans, higher and higher, my fingers feeling charged with earthquakes of longing as I trace her goosebumped skin, finding the seam between insulting cotton covering and deserved treasure underneath, inching along her heat. I have to use my lips again to silence her, then, until my tongue laps up her screams as my fingers dance, so warm and dizzying it’s like touching the sun’s surface, her teeth bite off my tongue as I dig for more, more, more, sinking into her, finding liquid gold, until my blackbird trembles and her knees give.
She melts into a puddle on the floor, her face so flushed and wondrous I would wage endless wars in her name. My queen of all the night sky, my Anassa.
‘What have you done to me, you demon?’ she whispers.
Her words should sting, but all I feel is honeyed haze. I yearn to lick my fingers that contain her taste, but worry she might find it crass. So instead I grab the bottle, taking a sip.
It doesn’t hold a candle to her kisses. I don’t need it; I’m already drunk as a bumblebee.
But as I set it down on the floor, she grabs my hand, her blackened fingers startlingly cool on my wrist, the only part of her not burning.
‘My demon,’ she croons, squeezing my hand so tight it almost hurts, dragging me closer. I’m forced to lie down with her, my head on her chest, her frantic heartbeat in my ears. Her other hand finds my hair, fingers wrapping around my curls, holding me in place. ‘Do you think …’ she starts, her knee bending, snaking in between my legs, offering such intense and sudden friction my breath catches. ‘Do you think I can do the same to you?’
It’s less a question than it is a promise. Cool fingers trace down my neck, my spine, finding the curve of my buttocks and digging deep, pushing me against her knee so hard I see stars.
Pleasure unspools within me, taking hold of every nerve, every limb, building into a wave I don’t ever want to finish riding.
‘Oh,’ I manage. ‘Yes.’
The door creaks open, rousing me from the nicest dream.
No. Not a dream. Anassa is truly here, underneath me, her hands holding me tight even in sleep, one leg still pinned between mine. I marvel, for a moment, at the clarity with which I love her. At how everything I’ve been through in my life was clearly meant to lead me here. To her.
But the door keeps creaking and the sound wakes her too. Her body stiffens. ‘What –’
I hear him before I see him, his voice hushed and confused and urgent. ‘You vile lady villains, why mustyou cause me such distress? I’ve searched everywhere for you!’
I get up hastily, reaching for my knife.
‘Oh, will you put that thing aside for now? It’s got us into enough trouble already,’ the Bard grumbles, trying very hard not to look at Anassa’s state, at how her dress is all hitched up, at how she scrambles to get on her feet, cheeks red with the indignity of getting caught. He closes the door behind him, intruding in our space, smelling the same air that I’m sure is still scented with our pleasure. Just for that, I should kill him. But his words make me worry. And when I notice that he has his pouch – and my boots – with him, I re-evaluate.
‘They know?’ I ask.
He nods, handing me the boots. ‘They found Crinan’s body in the woods. I heard them talking as I was headed out to find you. Mary’s not certain it was us, but Crinan’s friends, Thom chief among them, mean to detain us. Get the truth from us, they said, in case we are aligned with their enemies, and that’s the reason for us travelling to Elgin. They were gathered in the dining hall just now, arguing how to handle us.’
Damn it. ‘All right.’ I turn to look at Anassa, trying my hardest to convey that I won’t let them hurt us. ‘We need to run. We’ll take the horses, yeah?’
‘I … I don’t know how to ride,’ she stammers, her eyes too terrified to focus.
Double damn it. ‘The carriage –’
