Page 32 of The Blood that Binds Us

“What do we look like? We should know that right, so if we reference each other, we know what to describe?” I ask.

“Take out your braid,” Cassius instructs.

“Why?”

“The magic alters your hair color, but the length and movement will be the same. Even in your disguise, your hair is braided, and given Legion knows you style your hair like that, you should take it out.”

I reach for the ties securing my hair and unravel the braid, combing through it with my fingers.

“Better. His Grace’s hair remains long but it is a golden blonde with a slight curl. His skin tone is a shade lighter as well, and his eyes are brown. You are brunette with blue eyes, and your complexion is a touch darker. Your heights and weights remain the same so your movements appear natural.”

I stow the information away and approach the dapple-gray horse, letting her sniff my hand and patting her gently on the snout. Sin exchanges some final words with Cassius while I pet her side, and she snorts approvingly. I lift my foot into the stirrup and hoist myself onto her back, but I undershoot and grip the saddle horn as I begin to slide down her side.Shit.

Hands are on me immediately, one on my lower back to keep me from falling the rest of the way, and the other on my calf guiding it over the horse’s rear. Warmth rushes to my cheeks in embarrassment, and I grip the reins a little too tightly, refusing to turn around and acknowledge the owner of those tan hands. I sit up straighter, priming my tongue to refute whatever insult regarding my inexperience he thrusts at me, but he returns to Cassius without a word as if the exchange never happened. With a nudge forward and a slap of the reins, I ease the mare into a walk, and she guides us through the wide opened doors.

Sin rides up next to me, the wind whipping his midnight hair behind him, mirroring the steed’s tail that billows out at his rear. “Some ground rules before we take off. First, when we arrive at your…den,you need to stay close to me so your animal friends don’t smell the glamour on me.”

I don’t turn to look at him, focusing on the sharp points of the gray watchtower in the distance instead. “Then it’s a good thing we enjoy each other’s company so much.”

“Secondly, what is my name?”

“Excuse me?”

“Our ruse won’t last long if you’re calling me Sin, now will it? What is a name you will remember and not slip up and call me the wrong thing?”

I purse my lips. “Hm. Dickhead has a nice ring to it.”

He exhales sharply.

“What, you don’t like it?”

“We needn’t bother disguising you as a lady because your mouth would surely allude to your status, or rather, lack thereof.”

I shrug off the insult. “We can call you dick for short.”

“Do you always bring up dicks when men speak of your mouth, little witch?”

I shoot him a glare that might have made a less stubborn man fall from their mount. “Keep talking like that, and you’ll find yourself without one, Your Grace. Speaking of which, I should be armed in case we find ourselves in trouble.”In case you shoved iron in that bag when I wasn’t looking.

“Tell me, Wren, do you think demanding a blade in the same breath you threatened to remove my c—”

“Please don’t finish that sentence,” I interrupt, “but yes, I should have a means of defense that isn’t my magic.”

Sin pulls his horse to a stop, and I mirror him on my mare. He leans over and rummages through the bag hanging from the left side of his saddle. When he rights himself, a six-inch dagger with a black hilt and a holster are in his hands.

“If I give this to you—”

“I promise not to castrate you.”

I reach for the knife, and he hands it to me hilt first. The handle is bumpy like fine gravel, allowing me to grip it easier, and the blade is honed to a lethal point. I weigh it in my palm, and he holds out the holster. Balancing myself on the horse, I fasten the twin black leather straps around my thigh and slide the dagger into the sheathe. Ideally, I’d prefer to have the weapon hidden, but given my attire of a white flowy tunic and black leggings, strapped over my pants will have to do. The holster is clearly designed for a woman’s leg, and the Black Art isn’t foolish enough to leave any weapon unsecured to his body, not where prying eyes might spot it. He already planned for this and intended on arming me. Why he made me ask for it, I don’t know.

“If you won’t let me have my first choice of names, I’ll introduce you as Roarke.” My gut clenches at the thought of lying to my family—deceiving them to believe the man at my side is an escort and not the hot-tempered leader plotting their extinction.

Sin raises an eyebrow at the name but doesn’t dispute it. “Lead the way.”

“Gladly. Oh, and Sin,” I drop my eyes to his lips, then drag them slowly down his neck, “if this is a trap and you try to lay a finger on my family, I will slit your throat ear to ear.” The smile I give him is as sweet as Bennett’s jam puffs, and I take off in a gallop.

It was worth risking death to see the brief glimpse of shock on the Black Art’s face as I rode off without a care, as if I didn’t just threaten the most powerful man in Aegidale. He catches up to me a minute later, all traces of bemusement gone from his expression, his usual collected mask in its place.

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