Page 25 of Knight from the Ashes (Crown and Crest 1)

I turn around, looking for the archer who shot it…and then I spot her and wish I hadn’t.

Clover strides forward, dressed in a sapphire riding gown fit for a day on a formal hunt, bow raised as she concentrates on her next target. She releases another arrow, and one more vulture falls like a dead weight.

Lowering the bow, she turns her eyes on me. “Are you going to stand there staring at me, or are you going to help?”

Giving myself a mental shake, I return to the fight.

Finally giving up on their quarry, the flock begins to move out. Clover takes aim once more, preparing to shoot one of the last vultures that lingers, when a large one makes a dive at her from behind.

“Lady Clover!” I holler, racing across the road to intercept.

Just before the vulture can sink his wicked talons into her unprotected shoulders, I grab hold of the girl and yank her out of the way.

“What are you doing?” Clover cries, not yet realizing the bird is behind her.

Losing her balance, she drops her bow and falls against me. Trying to catch her, I step backward, twisting my ankle when I step in a rut in the road. Suddenly, we’re tumbling back, back…and thendown.

I manage to twist midfall, landing flat on my back to cushion Clover’s landing. She ends up on top of me, with her long hair splayed across my face.

Before she can utter so much as I word, I grasp the back of her head and roll, protecting her from the vulture’s attack. The bird digs its talons harmlessly into my leather brigandine before it flies away.

Breathing hard from the shock, Clover shoves the hair out of her face. She then slowly pulls her gaze to mine. We stare at each other for several long seconds, startled to find ourselves so close. So close, I can see the dark emerald specks in her spring-green eyes.

So close, in fact, that if I were so inclined—which I am not—I could prove to her that I do not kiss like a fish.

As soon as the dust settles around us, I realize the air has gone silent. The last of the flock has finally flown off, and my men have nothing better to focus on than their commander…and the girl pinned underneath him.

Suddenly realizing our awkward position, I jerk back, releasing my grip on her.

“Lady Clover!” Bartholomew exclaims, breaking the silence as he runs through the mess of wagons, spilled supplies, and dead vultures. “You were magnificent!”

After giving me a questioning look I can’t decipher, Clover pushes herself to her feet. I follow her, dusting myself off as I stand.

“Truly, Lady Clover,” Simon says, joining us. “That was incredible.”

She shrugs as if humble, but I see the pride shining in her eyes.

Suddenly, all my men are crowding around the lady-in-waiting, acting as if they’ve never seen a woman use a bow before. I get butted out of the way until I’m on the outside of the group, standing amongst the birds thatIalmost single-handedly killed.

“It was nothing,” Clover says, and for some reason, I glance over. Meeting my eyes through the crowd, she hides a smirk. “Henrik killed a few, too.”

Slowly, the men turn back to me. Simon says, “Oh, yes. Good job, Henrik.”

Shaking my head, I survey the damage. Immediately, my gaze lands on the elf nuisance. Tears flow down his face as he crouches over one of the scraggly vultures, holding it tenderly in his arms as he whispers soft nonsense.

Suddenly, a golden orb encircles both elf and bird. When it fades, the bird jerks away from the man and staggers into the air, flying off as if drunk.

“I can’t do anything for the rest of them,” the elf says, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand before he shoots me a reproachful look. “They’redead.”

“What did you expect us to do?” I ask, not used to dealing with his people. “Look around—half my men are injured—and you would have been as well if I hadn’t pulled you out of the way.”

Sniffing, the elf glances at the group, attempting to smooth his long brown hair as he nods. “Though it’s tragic, I suppose it’s not entirely your fault. I will lend my magic to your men.”

“You’re a healer?” I ask, taking a second look at him.

He’s a slender man, with fair skin and faint, fawn-like freckles along his hairline. He wears a simple brown linen tunic over black trousers, and his boots are tall. Oddly enough, even without his antlers, he’d resemble a deer.

The man nods sagely. “It’s my gift.”

---