Page 40 of An Archer's Reckoning

I stood, padded to the table, and filled a glass with wine.

“Put your pikes away. I am returning.”

“Pikes?” Ayden’s snorting grew louder.

Motion at the cave’s entrance drew my eye as Órla soared in and landed lightly on the table beside my glass. Without so much as a “by your leave,” she dipped her beak in and drank the last of my vino.

“Get your own wine, lady!”

Her head snapped up, ruby liquid dripping from her beak. She cocked her head to one side, then swiveled to look at Ayden, then back at me, her golden eyes unblinking. “Are you getting plucky with me, Bond-Mate?”

Ayden’s laughter had subsided the moment Órla returned, but with her scolding tone and sharp gestures, he lost his composure again. I tried to maintain a stern visage, but Ayden’s hilarity crawled so far beneath my skin that I couldn’t help but double over.

“Plucky? From an owl?” Ayden gasped.

Órla’s eyes widened in a way no owl’s should as her head swiveled toward Ayden.

“If you reach for a single one of my feathers, I swear—”

“Oh, raging Spirits of the deep, I think I just wet my breeches. I have to go find a tree.”

Ayden raced out of the cave without a backward glance.

Órla spun to face me, finding my cheeks just as streaked with humor as Ayden’s had been.

She held up a wing. “First—”

“I need to sit. My side hurts.” Her attempt at pointing a finger might’ve been the last straw. My head fell into my crossed arms on the table as laughter rocked my whole body.

Órla was undaunted, speaking both aloud and in my mind. “First, you are still naked. While I may be a lady, I do not find your human form particularly attractive. There are far too many parts poking out for my liking.”

I lifted my head and covered my face with my palms. Nothing she said could help the situation. In fact—

“And second . . .” She cocked her head. “What is that scent? It smells . . . salty.”

A furious blush brightened my already reddened features.

Her eyes did that strange widening thing again. “Oh! That is your sex . . . or Ayden’s. It lingers. Do you not bathe?”

“My lady, does thou see a bath about? Servants? Men hauling buckets of steaming water?” I wiped away my tears and sucked down a few calming breaths. “Last I checked, we were in the middle of nowhere, stuck in a cave until the snows slowed.”

Then I realized something. “Did Ayden go outside naked? In this weather?”

On cue, my redheaded Ranger appeared in the entrance, his hands rubbing his arms, and the rest of his body looking about as shriveled and frozen as anyone could.

“Irina’s frosty nipples, it is cold.”

I grunted another laugh. Ayden’s curses were always so . . . inventive.

“The snow is a tad yellower than before. Sorry about that.”

Órla perched on the back of one of the chairs and eyed him. “Would you two please get dressed before I decide your limp limbs might make a fine place to roost?”

“You wouldn’t!” I shoved my chair back and stood.

She glanced down, and I swear, if owls could cock a brow, she did.

“Fine. We’ll dress. We were just napping.”

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