Page 95 of Slaying the Shadow Prince
Drue’s cheeks grew hot, despite the chill to the air. ‘Gods,’ she muttered.
‘So?’ Adrienne pressed, grinning.
‘If you’re so keen for details, why don’t you spill them yourself?’
Adrienne chuckled. ‘Ahh… The younger Warsword is… intense. Best lover I’ve ever had by a long shot. Insatiable almost…’ She gave Drue a conspirator’s smile. ‘But we agreed we’re not right for each other in the grander sense.’
‘No?’ Drue heard herself ask. ‘How do you know?’
Adrienne shrugged, unbothered. ‘He’s been through a lot, got a lot of healing to do. And when he’s through with all that…’ She huffed another laugh, shaking her head. ‘It’ll take a woman who’s more warrior than me to match the force of him.’
‘You’re a warrior, Adri,’ Drue said, brow furrowed.
‘Of a very different kind.’
‘But —’
Adrienne waved her off. ‘It’s no bad thing, Drue. It’s empowering to know such things and enjoy the pleasures life offers you anyway.’ She cast another knowing look at Drue. ‘Speaking of which… You’re not ready to talk about him, are you?’
Drue glanced across at Talemir once more. His gaze was locked ahead, his broad frame straight in his saddle as he rode next to Wilder.
His words and actions of the previous night swelled in Drue’s chest. If she focused, she could still feel the imprint of him on her, not just on her lips and her skin, but on her soul. Much had been left unsaid between them.
She found herself shaking her head.
‘I had a feeling.’ Adrienne smiled. ‘I’m here when you are. In the meantime, perhaps a talk with your worried father wouldn’t go astray? He’s riding at the back.’
A pang of guilt hit Drue low and deep in her gut. She hadn’t checked in with Fendran since the end of the skirmish. ‘Is he alright?’
‘He’s fine, just scared for his only daughter. It’s no secret to where we ride,’ Adrienne told her. ‘Go.’ She motioned to the rear of the company. ‘I need to get these fools back in formation anyway. One night on the drink and they forget everything I’ve ever taught them…’ And with that, she rode off, shouting orders to her rangers, leaving Drue to find her father.
Fendran was indeed at the tail of the party, talking to Baledor, but his eyes lit up at the sight of his daughter.
‘Pa,’ she greeted him, urging her mare beside his horse as Baledor gave her a wave and made himself scarce.
‘Drue,’ Fendran said, smiling sadly. ‘How are you?’
‘Well enough. You?’
‘Well enough.’
It was how it always was with them, or how it always had been since that fateful day in the manor. They had never learnt to share their grief, share their feelings with one another. Instead, they had spoken of wraiths and weapons and warfare. But now, it was clear that something plagued her father, and that he wanted to say more than a handful of words to her.
‘What is it?’ she asked.
He seemed to consider this carefully before glancing across at her, peering into her face, trying to read her.
Drue was shocked to realise how old he suddenly appeared without the glow of the forge fire.
‘I know this quest of yours has spanned each day since your mother and your brothers’ passing…’ he said quietly.
Drue stiffened in her saddle. They never spoke of them, never uttered their names aloud, and now her father was broaching the subject of his own free will? She was so sure he would hammer out his grief in the forge forever.
‘I know I have done nothing to quell your notions of vengeance and justice. The opposite, in fact.’ He eyed the blade at her back. ‘But there is life outside of these monsters, Drue… And I worry… I worry you will let their evil consume you too.’
‘Where is this coming from?’
‘In the brief moments since I have joined this quest, I have seen a glimmer of light in you… And as we ride towards the home of darkness, I do not want to see it dimmed, or snuffed out.’
