“Including the need for a mass number of weapons,” Rosalina says, running a hand along the new metal bracer Tilla gifted her.
Damn, that woman is incredible. Receiving a gift from her mate’s former lover? It would have been so easy for Rosie to put up her guard upon meeting Tilla, to hate her for the simple reason she was with her mate before. But of course, Rosie offered her the same respect and kindness she offers everyone.
She’s perfect. Far too perfect for me. Something the world has no shame in reminding me of. It laughs in my face when I dare to try. Dare to have a single perfect moment with her.
The ibexes quicken their pace, their powerful muscles propelling us forward. I lean into their movements. My heart pounds in rhythm with their hoofbeats.
The path winds perilously close to the edge of a steep cliff. On our other side, roaring sounds as a waterfall drops to a small pond before narrowing back into the river.
“This river runs all the way from the top of Mount Lumidor to just outside of Florendel,” Farron says. “Parts of it are waterfalls like this with a few shallow pools, but there are rocky rapids, too.”
“Do you hear that?” Rosalina asks.
We still, and I lay a gentle hand on my ibex’s back. A bleating sounds in the air, followed by a woman’s scream. We exchange a worried glance, then urge our mounts forward. Figures take shape at the top of the slope before us.
A fae woman dressed in long white and gold robes: an acolyte of the monastery. She holds a stick and waves it back and forth in front of her at—
“Goblins,” I growl.
Four of the creatures edge closer to her, though at least these look like old-fashioned nasties, no green flames surrounding them.
“She’s protecting the babies!” Rosalina yells.
A small cluster of baby ibexes cower behind the acolyte. The fluffy, cream-colored creatures huddle close, eyes wide, with horns no more than stubs.
“Get back!” the acolyte snarls venomously and cracks one of the goblins over the head with her stick. Another one charges her, and she stumbles, feet at the edge of the river.
“We have to help!” Rosalina shouts, sitting straighter as she urges her ibex up the hill.
Farron nods and I follow their lead. “Guess they warned us about goblins.”
“Tasty, tasty for our lunches,” one of the goblins chitters.
“Tenderest meat, the babies have,” another one says, licking its lips.
“I told you to get back!” the woman yells again. She’s young, with dark hair and a vicious scowl. She brings her stick down hard on one of the goblin’s feet and it howls.
Heat washes over me as Farron gathers his power. As a High Prince with his curse broken, there’s nothing holding his magic back, except the overall health of Castletree.
A goblin lunges for the baby ibexes, and the woman careens her stick toward it. The goblin catches it and pushes her. She doesn’t even have a chance to scream. One moment she’s there, the next she’s in the river. She pops up, sputtering, before the river ensnares her, and she plunges down the waterfall.
Her form stills on the small pool below, but it’s not long before the river turns into vicious rapids.
“I’ll get her,” I say, leaping off my ibex. “You two handle the goblins.”
Running a few paces to the cliff, I jump. The cold hits me with a jolt, and I break through, gasping. The acolyte has floated further away, the water before her turbulent.
“Fuck,” I swear. Arm over arm, I surge toward her. She’s not moving, and a thin line of red trails in the water.
Over my shoulder, I glance up to see Rosalina and Farron fighting the goblins, a torrent of red and white flames.They’re okay.
The woman slips under. Gasping for air, I follow. It’s deeper than I thought. I only catch a glimmer of gold, sinking, sinking, sinking. But I grew up among the waves and surf of the Summer Realm, and water is as much a home to me as the land. Kicking hard, I easily reach her and grip her around the waist.
Damn, she’s heavy in these clothes. How much fabric does a holy person need?Wouldn’t be the first time I got a priestess out of her robes,I think. I shove off the bulky cloth until she’s just in a silk slip. Clutching her tightly, I kick to the surface and break through, gasping.
“Dayton!” Rosalina screams.
I blink the water from my eyes. Both she and Farron are on the shoreline, a tiny herd of babies clustered around our ibexes’ legs.
