Wellion snorted. “I don’t believe in the gods,” he said as he swung himself up into the saddle. He ignored Riann completely, unwilling to encourage this conversation, and after a minute, the former knight mounted his ownhorse.
“You there!” a soldier shouted as he ran up to them. But Tariel waved her hand, and the man slumped to the ground, eyes rolling up into the back of his head. Wellion blinked as the soldier snored, heedless of the mud caking hischeek.
“I’m guessing that’s what you did to the other man,” he said, pointing at the soldier he’d seenearlier.
“Yes,” Tariel whispered. “Now let’s get out of here before someone else comes to check onus!”
They rode off into the night, Tariel’s magic masking the sound of horse hooves pounding against the hard dirt. Even the sound of their bags moving and clothing rustling barely carried, as if they were wraiths moving soundlessly in the night rather than living, breathing flesh. Wellion had been around magic all his life, but it was still unnerving the way Tariel wielded it soeasily.
The first hour of the ride was tense, the group constantly looking over their shoulders to see if they were being followed. But no one pursued them, and after a while, they relaxed. Tariel spoke quietly up front with Yarim and Calrain, who flanked her protectively, while Riann dropped back to ride next toWellion.
“I imagine you have questions,” Riann said in a low voice. “Now would be a good time to askthem.”
Wellion laughed softly. “That would be an understatement.” He continued to watch Tariel as they rode. She had such an easy confidence about her, clearly comfortable being the center of this little group. She was nothing like Sallara, who used her wiles and her magic to manipulate and intimidate when necessary. Rather, she seemed content to be herself, confident that her men accepted her as shewas.
“How did the four of you come to be together?” Wellion asked. “The real story, if you please,” he added when Riann opened his mouth to answer. “I want to understand how three men can share a single woman and not try to slit each other’s throats as theysleep.”
Riann laughed softly. “It doesn’t really feel like we’re sharing,” he said, his gaze softening as he looked at Tariel. The love in his eyes was so painfully clear to Wellion—all three of them adored her without reservation. “She gives so much of herself. I don’t understand how she does it, but none of us ever feelneglected.”
“That isn’t an answer,” Wellion pointedout.
Riann huffed. “It’s a longstory.”
But he told it all to Wellion, explaining how he and Calrain had grown up with her, and had loved her from afar, knowing they could never have her. Until the day she was to be married off to a man who was known for killing his wives, and Tariel revealed her magic to them. Riann told him all about the ritual, and their subsequent escape, fleeing the country and trying to stay one step ahead of the bloodthirsty witch hunter with the guidance of a desert spirit that lived in theabacus.
“So Yarim helped you defeat him,” Wellion said when Riann was finished, “and Tariel let him join her…what would you call it?Harem?”
“Yes,” Riann said, smirking, “but if you’re thinking that you’re going to become the newest member just because you helped us escape, think again. Tariel loathes bandits, and you have barely made up for kidnapping me in the firstplace.”
Wellion huffed. “I never said I wanted to be part of your silly group.” But a vision of Tariel, naked and moaning beneath him as she’d done for Riann earlier, flashed in his mind, and he had to push it away in a hurry. “Although I do understand the appeal now. Extra strength and speed, fast healing, plus sex with a beautiful woman? No wonder you’re willing to shareher.”
“We also love her,” Riann said dryly. “That might have something to do withit.”
“You must,” Wellion agreed, “to give up your lives and risk the wrath of the witch hunter.” He shuddered at the thought of Sir Jerrold, who sounded downright terrifying the way Riann had described him. “I can’t believe your country burns magic users. I’d heard that Fjordland was a bit backwards, but such a practice is beyond barbaric. My own mother was a witch—she and Sallara would have been burned at the stake. And so wouldI.”
“You would?” Riann drew back in surprise. “But you don’t have anymagic.”
“I may not be able to wield power the way my sister and your lover do,” Wellion said, “but I do have some small talents, such as being able to tell when someone is lying to me, and the ability to strike true with any projectile I throw. I can also detect poison in food and drink.” That wasn’t everything he could do, but he saw no reason to reveal his entire bag oftricks.
“Those are all remarkably handy,” Riann said, sounding impressed. “Although you didn’t catch my lie aboutTariel.”
“That is because you cloaked it in truth,” Wellion said pointedly. He was still a bit miffed that Riann had pulled the wool over his eyes with that one. “I did catch some of your other lies, though. They just didn’t seem important enough for me tocare.”
Riann snorted. “Proof that all magic, no matter how powerful, is fallible in some form or another. I imagine the witch hunters of the past counted heavily on that, or they never would have eradicated magic fromFjordland.”
Wellion shook his head. His life had been far from easy, but at least he had never grown up with that kind of fear. Glancing ahead at Tariel, he had a newfound respect for her. Like him, she had buried her true nature in order tosurvive.
But in every other way, you are completely different,he reminded himself sternly. He could not allow himself to think of these people as friends. Soon enough, they would want to be rid of him, even Riann, and he intended to be gone long before they ever reached thatpoint.
