“What happened?” His attention cut to my sleeve, which slumped to unveil a bruise from where Rhys had gripped my wrist. Upon seeing this evidence, a mercenary glint fired in the knight’s pupils. “Who accosted you?”
My expression cinched into a glower. “Where the hell did you come from?”
“Answer my question.”
“Answer mine first.”
“Where were you going?”
“To your bloody party.”
“Noooo,” he drew out. “You were leaving the party.”
Son of a bitch. Constantly taking me off guard. Routinely catching me in the act. While most of my lies skirted past him, it took finesse. At any moment, the First Knight could weed through my bullshit and uproot too many buried truths.
I’d have to concoct a legit reason for my attack. To balance that out, I let my silence confirm his theory about the revels and my rapid departure.
After checking for additional injuries, Aire’s expression landed back on my face, a murderous edge honing his words. “Tell me what happened.”
Aspen of Autumn wasn’t a weakling. She didn’t feel, submit to, or display fear. Nor did she tremble like a maple leaf, cry in public, or slay the wrong person.
But I could have. One false move, and I could have been standing next to Aire’s severed head, his lifeless eyes gazing up at me. Just like that, I could have annihilated him from existence, eliminating something precious from this world.
My arms dropped, the axe tumbling from my fingers. The weapon smacked the ground with a thud that scattered a flock of birds.
Staggering backward, I opened my mouth to respond. A branch split, the noise cracking through the beech forest.
Aire seethed. In a rapid-fire motion, he lunged in front of me, the broadswords flipping in his grip and anchoring in a fighting stance. An instant later, I redeemed myself and swiped the hatchet from the undergrowth. Wheeling, I pressed my spine against the shield of his back, his warmth seeping through my cloak.
We waited, scanning the thicket. A copper fox howled in the distance, an owl hooted from its perch, and our panting exhalations filled the woodland.
After a moment, we disengaged and swung toward one another. Crisis averted. For now. My ears attuned themselves to the environment, but whether my hunch was correct, miraculously Aire showed no signs of detecting a lingering intruder.
Even so, his vehement gaze pierced through me like a crossbow bolt. “Who the fuck was out here with you?”
The sharp inquiry could have shaved off a layer of flesh. I jammed my axe into its harness and spoke past the metallic tang of guilt on my tongue. “For a start, the birds that just took off. I’m fluent in avian and was having a heart-to-heart with them before all the excitement started.”
“Aspen.” Aire’s growl hacked through the shrubs. “Do not lie to me.”
“When have I ever done that?” But when he glared, I staged my best sigh. “I thought some unidentified prick was closing in and overreacted.”
Partially true. Especially if I left my battered conscience out of it. But when in moral doubt, balance out the falsehoods with dashes of honesty. While this cardinal rule never made the lies easier to stomach, at least I felt less sick about it.
“My inventive nature pictured thieves and bandits,” I tacked on. “As for the welt, that was my fault. Got my wrist caught in a vise at the forge today.”
Half legitimate. Half fraudulent.
By showing off my prowess and stoking Rhys’s grudge at the Bonfire Ball years ago, this shitstorm was indeed self-inflicted. Also, I made my obsession for weapon smithing no secret.
Hooded cloak be damned, I shored myself up, neutralizing my expression as the knight inspected every crevice for a ruse. Defying the darkness, his gaze seared through my features like a pair of torches. Although I’d been practicing the art of duplicity since childhood, my flesh sizzled beneath his scrutiny.
At length, Aire nodded. “I’ll escort you home.” And when my lips parted, he raised the point of one broadsword toward my lips, then chewed apart my protest before I could spit out the words. “Do not fucking test me on this.”
Dammit. Whenever this saint resorted to cursing, he meant business.
Normally, this sort of exchange resulted in bickering matches. Him, protective. Me, independent. But Aire prided himself on being as tenacious as Briar. Ever the gallant knight, he’d only follow me if I said no. Plus, I was still rattled by what almost happened, and defensive minds thought alike. I didn’t want him unguarded for a second, any more than he wanted me trudging home by my lonesome.
“Suit yourself,” I replied.
