Page 23 of To Sway a Bard
A slow, sweet kiss hovered on her lips, light as the petals of a flower, sweet as nectar before it hardened into honey. He held the kiss, and she tasted his uncertainty, felt the gentle tug of his arm around her waist, the splay of his long fingers against her hip. A small sound of encouragement escaped her throat, but he held her at the edge, pressing another kiss to the corner of her mouth before tasting her lips again.
He was testing her, teasing her, and the hint of the kiss that bloomed across her mouth made her desire him all the more. Neo was a distraction from anxiety, a balm to her wound, the edge of impossible hopeand a future she dared not allow herself to dream about. It was his actions that gave her surety, there in the hush of darkness among the white beams of moonlight. Anyone might see them standing to the side of the path, two shadows entwined, perhaps hidden by the bulk of the horse.
Her mind urged her to flee, a natural response to her predicament, but the way his long fingers splayed against her, the way he kissed her, gave her an enchanting glimpse of what life might be like by Neo’s side. She could be a royal prisoner,hisroyal prisoner, if this was how he treated her, with moonlight rides and stolen kisses.
The tight circle of fear around her heart loosened, and even though her time with Neo had only been a brief moment in her many years, deep in her soul she felt a shift, a yearning, a desire to belong, to stop going out on her own with the entire world resting on her shoulders.
Each heist, each theft ripped her apart, just a little bit, and left her to play music, to hop through life with gaiety ringing in her ears. She moved too fast to let the truth catch up with her, kept company with those who smoked and drank and counted theirtreasures. Was she unhappy? She didn’t think she was, but she was always striving for more. It was never enough, and not because of the witch’s curse. No, it was the fact that treasure was fleeting, gold slipped through her fingers like water, nothing in her life was steady, secure, or trustworthy. Thieves were as backstabbing as they came. Perhaps Neo would be too, but he was also a prince.
One of his broad hands cupped her cheek, fingers twisting into her hair. “Are you going to run?” he asked.
“Not this time,” Zula said.
He studied her, his expression unreadable, and Zula’s heart squeezed. At that moment, she knew that despite his feelings for her, he didn’t entirely trust her, nor had she given him reason to. She had to remedy that, but she didn’t know how. When it came to matters of the heart, of love and trust, actions spoke much louder than hollow words.
21
NEO
Sunlight beat down hot and humid, the sound of a waterfall promising relief. Neo mopped his face with his sleeve and glanced at Zula, who sat astride the horse in front of him. Trepidation made him feel hotter as he tugged on the reins, slowing his mount to a stop just before the broad palm leaves shaded the path. Not that shade would do much good against the relentless heat of the jungle. Neo’s pulse quickened as he swung off the horse, wondering if Zula had noticed his nervousness. Would the plan work?
“We’re here.” He gestured to the thick foliage before them. “Do you know the way from here?”
Zula held onto the pommel of the saddle with one hand, using the other to squint against the sunlight. Because she insisted on riding astride, her skirts rode up her thighs and his gaze lingered on her smooth brown skin. Worst of all, their moments together had only cemented his desire. He wanted her, and before, when he was chasing her, he thought he’d be able to bear it if she was sent away, and he never saw her again. Now, the very idea of it was too painful to imagine.
“I know my way from here,” Zula confirmed, a frown marring her face. “It’s all jungle, though. I doubt the path has been widened enough for a horse to make it through.”
“I guessed as much.” Neo swung one of the saddlebags over his shoulder. The other bag he opened, and held up the ukulele.
Zula cried out, both hands outstretched as though it were her greatest treasure. “You fixed it!”
Neo handed it to her. “I had it repaired the day we arrived at the palace.”
The way she was looking at him with such rapt attention made his heart hurt. He was the one who’dinitially broken the ukulele, the one who’d caught her, and the one responsible for the mess she was in. What was the lesser of two evils? Prevent a war, save his family, lose the woman he was falling in love with? Or start a war, run with his family, and still lose her?
“Thank you.” She strummed a few notes.
Neo pulled a bandage from the saddlebag and moved around to Zula’s sprained ankle. “I’m sorry your ankle isn’t any better. I should have brought more salve. I’ll wrap it tight, and you have a crutch. When the going gets tough I’ll carry you on my back.”
A soft laugh left her throat. “I’d like to blame you for my woes, but you’re right. I’ve made bad choices. My ankle is yet another sign of poor decisions. Don’t worry, I’ll manage it.” She glanced behind them, eyeing the empty road. “Where are your guards?”
“Nearby,” he said, offering as little information as possible as he re-bandaged her ankle. “As you know, I prefer my space when I travel.”
“Isn’t that dangerous for you?”
Neo knew she meant for him as a prince, not a sheriff. “It is risky, but I like the adventure of it. It makes me feel alive, free, in a sense. Freer than I feel at home. Then, when I return home, I appreciate the comforts, the security, and the sameness of it. I crave the peace, but out here I prefer the chaos.”
“We are more alike than I first realized,” Zula admitted.
Neo helped her down and sent the horse off to find its way home, although he rather hoped it would be waiting for their return. If return was possible. The secrets he was keeping from Zula weighed upon him as they entered the dense jungle.
As he suspected, they barely spent any time on the road before plunging into the thick of it. Zula took her time, pausing to examine landmarks, the vines twining around her crutch, attempting to trip her up. Despite the difficulty, Neo noticed that she didn’t let go of the ukulele.
A mosquito bit his neck, and a parrot flew across the path, squawking at them. Monkeys hooted in the trees and slowly, Neo relaxed, taking in the sights and sounds, awed by the bright colors, the scenery. Was this Zula’s life? Where she grew up, traversingthe paths, knowing every inch of the forest as though it were her own?
Suddenly, the air shifted with an odd whistling sound that set his teeth on edge. He ducked half a beat too late as something struck the back of his head. A stone? Blood rushed. Zula screamed as he fell, and it took him a moment to understand her words.
“Stop! I said not to hurt him.”
