Page 51 of Tempting the Fae Lord
“And knowing you’re important to me is all the more reason to use you as leverage.”
“What choice do we have but to take the risk?”
Ezra mutters angrily under his breath.
If our situation weren’t so dire, it would be cute. All right ,maybe it’s a little cute even, considering the chaos we find ourselves in.
“I won’t risk you,” he says. “But I’m willing to risk him.”
“Sir—”
“Don’t argue. I caught him once. I can do it again if I have to.”
Petru stays silent. If he has an opinion, he knows better than to voice it. I can’t say how much he pays attention. He’s half-passed out and dragging between us, but it could be an act. Or he could be on death’s doorstep, and it’ll be our fault if he crosses.
“All right,” I say. “Whatever you think will get us to safety quickest. Let’s do that.”
Ezra scoops up Petru, carries him to the nearest tree, and ties him to it. I try not to let my disapproval show on my face.
Leaving him here in this condition is cruel but, with any luck, only temporary. The mage makes no complaint.
“Come.” Ezra holds his arms open for me, and I step into them with the same trust I’ve always had for him. Apparently,that part of our bond is unshakable. Should I question it? Has his blood made me feel this way?
Maybe, but I don’t think so.
He lifts me and flies south until we approach a sleeping town. I’m not sure how he intends to acquire a room at this hour, but I’m tired enough not to ask questions. He moves as if he has a plan, which is more than I have, so I embrace my role as cargo, along for the ride.
Curiously, we pass the town’s inn and slip through an unmarked door in a side alley that smells of urine. I scrunch my nose and follow.
Inside, it’s dark, but Ezra waves a hand and illuminates the path in front of us. We descend a narrow flight of stairs, turn, then head down another.
I don’t know how I feel about creeping two stories underground, the earth a silent weight above us, but if this is what it takes, so be it. Hopefully, the cramped feeling will fade in time.
“This will do.” Ezra pushes open the second door on the lower landing and ushers me inside. “Wait for me here. I’ll collect our pris—Petru—and return shortly.”
I glance around. Smoldering ashes, it’s stifling. The ground is packed dirt with nothing but a round dusty rug to call a floor. Two wooden cots with no mattresses line the walls on either side with a short, bare table between them.
There is nothing else. No windows, no art, no chairs, no basin, no life.
My reticence must show on my face because Ezra says, “Don’t worry. You’re safe here, and I won’t be long.” To my surprise, he places a swift kiss on my cheek, then darts away, footsteps silent.
I’m alone, my hand on my cheek, caressing the cool, damp spot where he kissed me.
True to his word,Ezra returns with Petru before I have a chance to work myself up into a true panic.
“Where are we?” I take Petru from him and lower the fragile man to one of the cots.
Petru mumbles his thanks and promptly passes out in a heap.
“Tornea, in an old safe house for traveling messengers of the preternatural variety. It’s fallen out of use because there’s no longer a population in the region.”
“Sonja won’t know of it?”
“Probably not. I can’t be sure, but without him, she’s been reluctant to attack me.”
Petru groans, restless.
“He needs food and water.”
