Page 62 of Forged in Cursed Flames (Crown and Crest 2)

“Do you think it’s safe letting Lawrence go alone?” Ayan asks.

“He was holding his own just fine when I left him,” I say, though I’m uneasy as well.

I quicken my pace.

Stilted wooden walkways join the main buildings, making it easy to navigate the community.

“How will we leave tomorrow?” Bartholomew asks. “There are no roads.”

“By boat,” Caldwell answers. “It’s the only way to navigate this part of the swamp. You can hire someone to take you to Varizan. From there, it becomes easier to travel by foot.”

Several rowboats and similarly sized vessels equipped with small propulsion apparatuses are tied here and there, tethered to the walkways with ropes wrapped around hooks driven into the planks.

The mosquitoes and gnats have gotten thicker as evening settles around us, and I lean forward to knock a large insect off Clover’s shoulder. My hand brushes over her soft, bare skin, and she whirls around as if surprised.

Startled by her reaction, I slowly pull my hand back. “There was an insect on you.”

Her eyes rise to mine, and she absently rubs her hand over the spot as she nods.

“There’s an apothecary laying low here. Before you move on, you should buy repellent from him,” Caldwell says, nodding a greeting to a man who fishes from the walkway as we pass. “Can’t go traipsing through the swamp without something to keep the pests off.”

“Laying low?” Clover asks.

“Word has it he got in some trouble in Revalane. Sold Auggy the Short a tonic that was supposed to make him grow a few inches.”

“It didn’t work?”

Caldwell laughs. “I heard his ears doubled in size.”

“I think we’ll pass on the repellant,” I say dryly.

“No, no. This stuff is harmless. Just an herbal tonic of some sort,” the captain says. “I don’t know what’s in it. Smells like stinkweed, but it’s effective.”

Clover leans close to Ayan, and I can just hear her whisper, “Your dukedom is lovely, Your Grace.”

He laughs, shaking his head, and jealousy threatens to choke me. It’s bad enough dealing with Lawrence. Does she have to be friendly with the elf, too?

As I’m thinking it, Clover looks back and shares a smile, letting me in on the joke, and I’m hit with guilt.

I swear this woman is making me lose my mind.

“The Woodmores say insects are part of nature’s balance,” Ayan says as we walk, slapping one away from his face and then lifting the hood of his cloak over his head. “Everything works together in perfect harmony. Mosquitoes and gnats are food for fish and birds—a necessary part of the cycle of life.”

“That’s all good and fine, but I wish the fish and birds would hurry up and eat them,” Clover says, swatting another from her neck.

I brush yet another from her arm. She doesn’t jump this time. We both know it’s a shameless excuse to touch her.

Thankfully, we reach the tavern before we’re eaten alive.

It’s not any cooler in the building, but we exchange birdsong and the hum of marsh insects for the low roar of pirates enjoying their evening.

“It’s packed in here,” Clover says, startled. “Do you see Lawrence?”

“Kip,” I hastily correct.

“Right.” She stands on the tips of her toes. “Whatever his name is, do you see him?”

I scan the crowd, irritated. Though I stand taller than most human men, in this gathering of elves, I’m average. Thankfully, what I lack in height, I make up in muscle, and people shift out of the way as we continue to the front of the establishment.

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