Her smile softened. “He’ll be tickled by that, Your Majesty, to be certain.”
I slipped into the garden. The sun was high in the sky, but the wind was cool on my face. It was rather nice, compared to the cloistered warmth inside that cabin.
Around the side of the house, I heard the clucking of chickens and a tight, familiar voice.
“He’s gone home,” Aderyn said. “He’s back in Atheldinas, where you can’t touch him.”
I froze just before the corner’s edge.
“Then why are you still here?”
Peering around the corner, I saw Forov’s man. The chickens were clucking madly, all scurried into the far corner of the pen surrounding the coop.
Somehow, the Destovian had gotten inside. A bag of seed lay on the dirt beside Aderyn, turned over and open where he’d dropped it. Even the promise of food wasn’t enough to compel the chickens back toward the threatening Destovian who gripped Aderyn’s arm.
I stepped out from the corner and Aderyn’s eyes widened. He shook his head, but his attention only pulled the Destovian’s with him. He spun Aderyn’s arm behind him and held his blade against his neck.
I’d never wished that I were more like Bet—more brutal, more capable of bloodletting—than I had in that moment. In a fair, honorable fight, I might be able to take the man myself, but right then, as hollowed out as I felt, I didn’t stand a chance.
And he didn’t seem to be in a fair and honorable mood.
“Unhand him, and I’ll go with you,” I swore.
The man sneered. “And he’ll just fly after you again.”
I bit my tongue. Aderyn couldn’t, and—well, he didn’t have to save me. Even if the Destovians got me all the way back to their empire, I’d consent to nothing. I’d make no compromise when all I wanted was in my own kingdom.
“If you hurt him,” I snarled, “you’ll face war on two fronts. I swear by Penrose and Nye that I’ll?—”
There was a twang, the thump of something hitting—I wasn’t sure. Something soft, like a bag of grain.
Or flesh, I realized, when the Destovian coughed and a bubble of blood burst on his lips.
He swayed, braced himself, and I saw a score of crimson-gold blood follow his blade across Aderyn’s neck.
“No!” I shouted and ran forward, even as the Destovian fell. I caught Aderyn in my arms.
He clutched me with both hands, staring at me, wide eyed and blinking.
And he was?—
He was fine.
He was cut, but it wasn’t deep enough to wound him mortally. His face was pale, but that seemed more fear and shock than anything serious.
His skin was split, but there was none of the gore I feared, and when I breathed in deep, a warm feeling suffused my whole body.
We were all right.
As long as we held tight to each other, we would continue to be.
I’d never wanted power. I didn’t care about being king.
The thing I wanted most, from the moment my cage was locked beside Aderyn’s, was to see him safe and well.
“What are you doing?” Aderyn whispered as I touched his neck.
It wasn’t a fatal wound, but no doubt it hurt. He was bleeding, and if the man responsible weren’t already dying on the ground, I’d be tempted to see to the matter myself.
