Page 24 of The Wand of Lore

He sat up in his bed again and exhaled. But before he could get up and go knock on her door, somewhere in the recesses of his mind, he could hear his older brother, Steffan, mocking him. “You behaved in an ungentlemanly way toward this witch, tainted yourself and your honor, and you dare oppose the king by attempting to protect her? And now you want her forgiveness? When you tell her, she will know how worthless you are and leave you. You’re such a fool; it’s no wonder you’ve gone and got yourself cursed.”

Vaylor put his hands over his ears and cursed the empty room. It was bad enough that Steffan had spent their childhood beating him, stealing what little food he managed to obtain, and mocking him. Now Vaylor had to live with his brother’s criticisms running rampant in his mind. He would not tolerate it. He sat up and practiced scowling to mask the midnight rush of adrenaline and fear. The world need not see him as anything other than mean and tough. His conversation with Gwenneth could wait.

Chapter Seventeen: Gwenneth

Gwenneth and her surly companion headed to the stable before the sun rose. She would not have complained about a little more sleep, but she wasn’t going to say that to the rude, snide, and otherwise intolerable man who rode at her side. He was worse now than he had ever been, scowling and frowning, and speaking to her only in curt monosyllables, if at all.

“Do you need anything for Sir Henry?” she asked as they prepared to mount.

“No,” he replied, not looking at her as he pulled vegetables from his pack and fed them to the horse. She wasn’t sure where they came from; she hadn’t seen him replenish his food stocks, but the vegetables looked fresh enough, and the horse ate them without hesitation.

“Are you feeling any better?”

“Fine.”

“How much longer, do you think, until we reach Gorenth Castle?”

“Night.”

“Like, this night?”

“Yes.”

Gwenneth rolled her eyes, wondering why she had ever found this insufferable man attractive, and stopped talking while they climbed atop Sir Henry and rode away in silence just as the sun appeared on the horizon. She was hurt, not by him, but by her own decision to invite this man into her heart knowing exactly who he was. She couldn’t be shocked when a rude, inconsiderate man acted rudely and inconsiderately. She sat tall on the horse, refusing to show him any weakness. She had spent her life keeping her family safe from outsiders, and in the space of two days, had threatened all that with one extremely good night of sex. She was not impulsive, and she would not behave impulsively again.

She didn’t try to talk to him again but sat up straight and ignored his hands around her waist. His big, warm, strong hands. She tried not to notice that those hands were gripping her more tightly than usual, tugging her closer against his chest. Even so, she would not rest her weight against him. No men were allowed into her life, especially not this one. He was dangerous, he didn’t care about her, and he was just using her to lift his curse. Marvin was only acting like himself by being crude and hostile. She grabbed his hands and removed them from her body. She had never needed to be held up on the horse, and there was no reason to tolerate it now.

They rode hard and fast, finally stopping for food and to use the privy when the sun was at its highest point overhead. Gwenneth was eager to get off the horse and put some distance between her and Marvin. It occurred to her that Marvin might not even be his real name and that she would never know the difference. She shrugged. People who cared about each other valued honesty and strove for connection and trust. She andMarvin did not care for each other, and it behooved her to remember this.

“Stay close,” Marvin barked as he stepped behind a tree to relieve himself.

“Excuse me?” How dare he order her around as if she were his subordinate? And she scoffed at his decision to go behind the tree as if they were school children who had never seen each other before. She supposed it was a matter of basic decency, but still, she found his general attitude so grating that she was happy to ignore him. Anyway, if he could disappear to do his business, so could she. She walked toward the other side of the clearing, looking for a spot hidden enough for privacy, but bare enough for comfort.

“Should have listened, sweets,” a deep voice whispered in her ear.

She froze and tried to scream, but a hand clamped over her mouth and she caught a glint of steel against her neck.

“Hush, sweets, and you may survive this yet. No screaming, now, if you want to keep your tongue.”

It was him. The man with the goatee was back, and this time he had his dagger alongside her neck. A ring of goblin men and women, short and gnarly and hardly clad, encircled her, chattering to each other in a language she didn’t understand.

“Quiet, you useless beasts,” the man snarled. They quieted, but not without exchanging scowls with each other.

“Let us have her hide, Kingsman,” grumbled one particularly fierce-looking goblin woman whose long, tangled hair draped over the defined muscles of her arms.

“This one belongs to the king. You’ll do well to remember that.” He grinned at Gwenneth, showing dark gaps in his teeth and exhaling foul breath. Gwenneth turned her head, furious with herself to be here again. The last time they had found her wandering through the trees, they had pinned her to atrunk and secured her with ropes in one easy motion. She had been disabled before she’d even had time to realize what was happening. This time she wouldn’t be so humiliated.

She took her wand out, and at a subtle wave, they were all on their backs, gasping for air. She aimed her wand at the man with the sharp goatee and closed her eyes as she felt his throat contract. Her magic was not made for violence; it was beautiful and closely connected to the life all around her. To use it for violence was sacrosanct and something she had never done before, but surely the goddesses didn’t intend to see her pinned against a tree, helplessly awaiting rescue, when she had so much power at her fingertips. This stranger wielded a weapon against her and clearly had every intention of inflicting pain or at least suffering, and she would not surrender without a fight. Eyes closed, Gwenneth moved her wand slowly through the air, summoning magic from the goddesses, who responded. They sucked energy from her as the man gasped for air. She opened her eyes and watched as his face turned red, then purple, then a deep shade of blue. The goblins watched from the forest floor, making no attempt to help their dying companion. Gwenneth was growing faint from holding and wielding the violent spell, but she didn’t relent. Though she had no intention of killing him, it was delicious to watch him flail for his life. But no. She was better than him, and more importantly, her consciousness was slipping. The world around her blurred, and she fought to stay awake, knowing that to lose consciousness while this man and the goblins still lived would be to forfeit her life. She released her hold on the magic, and both gasped as air filled their chests. He staggered to his feet, but Gwenneth didn’t lower her wand an inch. She kept it pointed at him, her own body alert and tense, even as she fought to hold up her weight under the exhaustion nipping at her.

“You wretched fool,” he snarled. “I am an emissary of King Egar. Kill me, and you are declaring war on the crown. You’re dead, witch.”

“What do you want with me? Why are you following us?” she asked.

“You should have kept your voice down like I ordered. Now it’s going to get ugly.”

“Stay away from her, Greyson!” shouted Marvin as he emerged from behind a tree. His sword was in his hand as he ran straight for the man. The stranger sneered as he stood his ground, ready for the assault.

Gwenneth watched in a daze as Marvin’s large sword clashed against the stranger’s dagger. Metal hit metal, shattering the silence of the forest. She should run, hide, get out of there, and never come back, but the goblins were rising quietly to their feet and forming a circle around the trio. As she raised her wand again, the world spun under her feet, but she fought to remain upright and pleaded with the goddesses for a disarming spell. A wave of her arm caused the goblins to drop an array of daggers and knives and other pointy weapons. Dizziness overcame her as she stared at the fight in front of her. Who was this man, and how did Marvin know his name? She kept her wand raised but wasn’t sure who was the bigger threat. Exhaustion waited for her to make a mistake.

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