THE ENCHANTER GAVE an apologetic shrug. “I can’t do that.”
Mira glowered at him. “Why not?”
“Because, you’ll go straight for your knife again.”
Mira leaned back against the wall, her gaze narrowing. The man was distractingly good looking, and her lips still burned from that brutal kiss. She still couldn’t believe she’d let him catch her. He was quick on his feet, but she was better than that.
She was still reeling from the impact of their gazes meeting back in the market square. She’d been fighting off questions from the old woman selling her cheeses when she’d felt the weight of his stare. Mira had been shopping for provisions for their journey north—the boatman was due to dock that afternoon, and she wanted to be ready. When she’d looked up and seen the tall, blond man across the square staring at her, all her plans suddenly unraveled.
“We’re in a difficult position then,” she replied.
He watched her, the intense look in his silver-grey eyes unnerving. Her heart was still pounding from the show they’d put on for those guards.
“I mean you no harm,” the enchanter said with a cool smile, “but it’s best I keep you restrained until you take me to the princess.”
Mira’s gaze narrowed. “I’m not doing that.”
He stepped away from her and leaned back against the opposite wall, arms folded across his chest. “Then we’ve got a problem.”
Mira stared at him. “What are you going to do?”
“Wait here till you change your mind.”
Silence fell then. It drew out, and with each passing moment Mira grew increasingly frustrated. The muffled rise and fall of voices from nearby walkways reached them, as did the whistle of the seeking wind.
Eventually, Mira huffed. “Prove to me you’re from the order then.”
He raised an eyebrow. “I already have.”
“Humor me,” she replied between gritted teeth.
Wordlessly, he raised his right hand, revealing the outline of an eight-pointed star. As she stared at it, the symbol glowed silver, before pulsing like a hot coal.
Mira wasn’t convinced. She didn’t trust this man—didn’t like his handsome, inscrutable face, those cool silver eyes. However, she could see he intended to wait her out.
“Alright then,” she muttered.
Once they were moving she might be able to distract him and get free. While he faced her with that predator’s gaze, she was never going to get the chance.
“Good.” He pushed himself away from the wall, stepped close, and adjusted her cloak so that her arms—and the glowing manacles that pinned them to her sides—were hidden from sight. Then he slung an arm around her shoulders and guided her back toward the swing bridge.
“Don’t touch me,” Mira ground out.
He gave a soft laugh and bent close, his breath tickling her ear. “Be nice … we’re married, remember?”
They made their way out of the alleyway, crossed the swing bridge, and traveled a network of walkways that took them to Broad Walk. Mira then led him north, toward the docks, before cutting right into a grimy walkway that stank of urine.
This wasn’t anywhere near Pike Walk. She’d taken him in the opposite direction, into the roughest walkways.
I’ll lose him here.
They passed a couple arguing outside a brothel, before edging around four men swinging punches at each other. Their drunken curses echoed off the buildings rearing up either side.
“Nice part of town you’re living in,” the enchanter commented.
“Best place not to be found,” she replied.
They had barely gone two yards past the brawl when a thin, cloaked figure hurtled out of a shadowed alleyway toward them. A thin youth with a pock-marked face and mean eyes came at Mira’s captor with a knife.
“Stinking piece of filth,” the lad snarled. “I’ll get you this time.”
The enchanter released Mira and leaped to one side, narrowly missing the sharp edge of the blade. He swore, his attention momentarily focused on his attacker.
Mira took her chance.
Arms still pinned at her sides, she lurched forward, past where the enchanter had taken hold of the youth’s wrist. The pair were now grappling with the blade.
Stab him, she silently urged the wiry young man as she took off down the walk. She heard shouting behind her but didn’t look back. This was the best chance she was going to get; she had to take it. It was difficult to run with her arms frozen like this, yet once she distanced herself from her captor, she hoped his enchantment would lose its hold.
She sprinted along the narrow walk and turned left into an alley littered with rubbish. Leaping over obstacles, she hurried on. To her dismay, the manacles on her wrists seemed as strong as ever.
Worse still, she could hear the sounds of pursuit behind her. The enchanter had obviously dealt with his attacker and was coming after her.
Cursing under her breath, she fled down the alley and up another, losing all sense of direction. Her need to escape pushed any other thought from her mind. She couldn’t lead this man back to Ninia.
The network of narrow walks and swing bridges brought her to the edge of a wharf, with nowhere to go.
Glancing back over her shoulder, Mira saw the enchanter racing toward her, his long legs covering the ground fast.
This was it. Unless she jumped he’d have her.
Mira looked down at the dark cold water. Damn it, I can’t swim.
Then she leaped.
The water’s chill hit her like a physical blow. Her breath gusted out of her, and she kicked up, panic surging through her. She broke through the surface and sucked in a lungful of air, before she sank once more. Her arms felt cemented to her sides, and she realized how foolhardy her choice had been.
She sank down, the freezing lake water pulling her into its embrace. Mira kicked and struggled, but her body would not rise. Her lungs started to burn, and a pressure built in her skull.
I’m going to drown.
And then strong hands gripped her, pulling her upward.
Asher spat out a curse as he hauled himself up onto the edge of the wharf. Then he leaned over the edge and pulled the sodden, choking Swallow up after him.
He’d had to release the enchantment to get her out of the water, so she could pull herself up the narrow wooden ladder. But as soon as he heaved her up onto the wharf next to him, he gathered the Light once more, replacing the manacles of sunlight.
“Bastard,” she gasped. “I nearly drowned.”
“Your own fault,” he muttered, retrieving the cloak he’d shucked off before diving in after her. Asher rose to his feet and threw the mantle about his shoulders, concealing his dripping clothing. “That was foolish.”
Mira snarled another curse at him, this one far more vicious than the last. Asher shrugged it off and leaned down, grasping her under the armpits. He then hauled her to her feet. This woman was rapidly becoming a bur up his arse. “You’re welcome.”
She struggled against him, her knee jabbing up toward his groin, but Asher was ready for her. He jerked his lower body back and spun her around so she had her back to him. “You were taking me to the princess, remember?”
The Swallow continued to struggle, her body bucking against his as she attempted to slam her head back into his chin. “Shadows take you … I’m not.”
Asher set his mouth into a grim line. When she’d led him into this area he’d suspected the woman had merely been trying to buy herself some time. The moment she’d run, she’d confirmed it.
“Come on.” He pushed her forward back down the wharf. “I tire of these games. I told you I’m here to help. Take me to the princess.”
She snorted. “I’m her guardian, not you.”
“If that’s the case, why are you still here in Thornmere? Why haven’t you gotten her across the border already?”
He felt the Swallow’s body tense against his. “It’s not as easy as it looks,” she growled. “Anthor has this town patrolled day and night. Getting a boat to take us across the lake has been impossible.”
“Well luckily for you both, I have one. Take me to the princess, and you can travel back with me.”
Silence followed, and Asher knew the woman was considering his words.
He allowed himself a smile. Perhaps now she might cooperate with him.
They made their way back through the network of foul walkways, past where Asher had fought off that youth. Farther ahead, the men had finished their brawl and gone back inside, and the arguing couple had disappeared too.
“What did you do to him?” the woman asked, her gaze sweeping the walk for any sign of that lean, cloaked figure from earlier.
“I stabbed him with his own blade,” Asher replied flatly. “He’s no doubt bleeding to death in an alley somewhere.”
The Swallow paused. “He knew you?”
“Aye—tried to steal my purse a few days back. He had no luck then either.”
They continued on, finally reaching Broad Walk. There, amongst the milling crowd, Asher pulled Mira up short. She was still facing away from him, and he didn’t trust her enough to let her turn so he could meet her eye.
“No more tricks,” he whispered in her ear. “I can help you both, but you need to take me to her.”
Tension emanated off his captive in waves, and for a moment Asher felt a pang of remorse. He didn’t like the person he’d become. Lying to Mira, and making her think he could be trusted, made his stomach clench.
He was starting to hate himself.
“Very well,” she finally rasped. He sensed her struggle, her caged rage. “But sooner or later you’re going to have to free me, enchanter.”