Page 63 of Slaying the Shadow Prince
He stood at the side of the bar, drinking his freshly poured mead and watching as she lined herself up in front of the target and held her first dart between her thumb and forefinger, rocking back and forth on her toes slightly. For someone downing mead and throwing darts in an abandoned tavern, she still held herself with an almost regal posture.
‘Don’t miss,’ Talemir teased her.
‘Oh, I don’t intend to…’ Drue threw her darts in quick succession, each one landing closer and closer to the bullseye. She turned on her heel, facing him with a smug expression. ‘Worried?’
‘You wish,’ Talemir replied, taking up his place.
He wasted no time throwing his darts, but they landed on the outside of the target, one even missing completely, embedding in the wall beside it.
Drue let out a gleeful chuckle, and Talemir bit back his smile.
‘Let’s have it, then. What is it you demand of me for your first win?’
Drue surveyed him brazenly before folding her arms, her chin jutting out. ‘Take off your shirt,’ she ordered boldly.
Talemir’s answering laugh vibrated through his whole chest and into his bones.So she’s playing offensive. I can handle that.He’d been curious to see what path she’d take them down, given the first victory. Keeping his eyes on her, he reached for the back of his shirt and pulled it over his head, revealing his bare torso beneath.
‘Interesting choice of prize, Wildfire,’ he said, his voice low as he watched her hooded gaze rake down his chest and abdomen, her lips parting slightly. ‘Does it please you?’
Despite her initial bravado, Drue’s cheeks were tipped with pink, and though it could have been the mead, Talemir suspected it was more than that. He tensed, waiting for her reply, his body tingling under her attention, but she ignored his question, yanking the small arrows from the board and taking up her stance.
She threw again, and this time, when Talemir had his turn, he actually tried.
Drue looked from his perfectly landed darts back to him, frowning. ‘You let me win the first round.’
‘A gentleman never tells,’ he said with a wink.
She let out a noise of frustration and swigged her drink.
‘Don’t tell me you’re a sore loser?’
Drue rolled her eyes and put a hand on her hip. ‘Go on, then. What’s your prize?’
Talemir was enjoying this far too much. He leant against a stool and took a long, deliberate draught from his tankard, as though he needed all the time in the world to consider what he wanted. He let his gaze rove across her lazily, noting the colouring of her cheeks, the hitched breath caught in her chest. It wasn’t just the mead she was responding to, that was for certain.
But instead of asking for a piece of clothing, he opted for something else, something that had been gnawing away at him ever since their first night in the tent together on the road from Ciraun.
‘What does your tattoo mean?’ he asked quietly.
Drue visibly baulked, clearly not expecting such a personal question amid their flirtation. But Talemir had realised that he wanted more than flirting. He wanted to know the fierce ranger who’d withstood so many storms…
For a moment it looked like Drue might object, but after she’d opened and closed her mouth several times, her hand drifted to her shoulder. ‘It’s my mother’s favourite flower.’ Her fingers slowly pulled the neck of her shirt aside to reveal the inked skin. ‘Blue jasmine. There is a bloom for her, and one for each of my dead brothers…’
At her silent invitation, Talemir took a step towards her and bowed his head to get a closer look at her tattoo. The jasmine, complete with delicate petals and intricate leaves, had been inked in expert fine lines, creating a graceful artwork across Drue’s shoulder blade.
Without thinking, Talemir traced it with his fingertips, finding Drue hot beneath his touch.
‘It’s beautiful,’ he murmured.
Time slowed as they stood close enough that Talemir could see the goosebumps rushing over Drue’s skin.
‘I got it just after they died,’ she said, tugging her shirt back over her shoulder.
‘Would your mother have liked it?’
Drue laughed at that. ‘Gods, no. She thought tattoos were for soldiers and sailors. But I think that’s partly why I got it. Whenever I can’t remember the finer details of her face, or the exact way she’d move through the gardens, I can always recall how she might scold me for getting such a permanent mark on my body.’ Silver lined the ranger’s eyes, but she blinked away her tears and squared her shoulders once more. ‘Right, you’ve had your answer now, Warsword. Prepare for defeat.’
‘Do your worst, Wildfire.’
