Loving a Prince Charming (6 page)

“Am I wrong?” He hated the begging tone he
heard in his voice. He was a man, not a boy desperate for his
father’s approval.

Kira shook her head, breaking off their gaze
and staring at the ground, her face drawn and pinched against her
own tears. The burning inside Seth’s chest was a surprise. Odd, odd
that. Nothing about his father should have shocked him. In fact, he
was the one who told her. She only reaffirmed his own thoughts.
Odd.

Kira’s cold fingers wrapped around his own
frozen hand.

Cold over cold.

The rock against his window was their signal,
and Seth was ready. The bag held essentials—change of clothing,
money, and a little food. Nothing more, as traveling light was a
necessity.

Kira waited for him at the bottom. His feet
barely touched ground when she grabbed his hand and started running
past Taren’s house, to a section of woods that they often played in
when they were children. Two horses awaited them, and within
minutes they were seated and off.

They rode in silence, rode hard throughout
the night. Their stops would have to be infrequent and they would
need to go as fast as their horses would permit.

Kira had their route planned. She had to
avoid the people evacuating from Tolshire, out of fear Seth’s
father would have guards posted along the way, but they could
chance stopping in some small towns once they passed the
border.

Their first major stop was only a short ride
past the border right before sunset. Kira originally planned to
stop farther along, but Seth’s horse was past drained, and if they
kept pushing him, Seth feared hurting the steed.

“Ow,” Kira cried, rubbing her wrist. She had
been doing that often lately, touching her wrist, but this was the
first time a cry of pain accompanied the act.

“What’s wrong?” Seth came over to see,
grabbed her arm even as she shook her head at him.

Her birthmark was red and inflamed. “What
happened?” If it was infected, they needed to turn back now and get
to healers.

“Nothing is wrong. I’m not sure what’s
happening. It’s been…uncomfortable lately, and I don’t know
why.”

As he watched, the little mark on her skin
got redder, and Kira gave an indrawn breath in response. “Kira, we
need to go back—”

“What do we have here?’

Seth whipped his head around to look for the
owner of the voice—high-pitched with malignant glee almost dripping
from the words. Seth’s eyes focused on a man who fit the image the
voice created. Reed-thin with almost reptilian features, the man’s
smile chilled him to his core.

Kira stepped in front of Seth, her hand
coming to her sword. “What we have here is none of your concern,
and as we do not wish to share our camp, you can leave.”

“But I want to stay.” The
S
in his
speech emphasized the lizard comparison, as did the fluid, rolling
motions of his body as he moved. “This is
so
interesting.
The betrothed of the cursed princess, in front of me.”

Kira drew her sword and pointed it at the
man. “On your knees,” she said. That voice Seth knew, and if it
were him, he’d have hit the ground without another word.

The stranger didn’t have the same sense of
self-preservation. He smiled, teeth glittering in the dying light.
He drew his own weapon and attacked.

The man’s movement was so fast that Seth
wouldn’t have been able to parry, but Kira met his blade and
deflected it, throwing the man off balance. The man righted himself
in an instant, but the moment before he raised his sword to meet
Kira’s swing, Seth saw shock plain as day line the man’s
features.

Seth drew his own weapon and stepped back to
give Kira enough room to maneuver. His own ego needed to be kept in
check, as did his worry. Kira was the stronger fighter, her
movements sharp and precise, her blade always finding her
opponent’s unprotected spots. Entering the fight now would only put
Kira in danger because she would be focused on him and not herself.
He needed to stay put unless there was a clear reason to
interfere.

Once again Kira’s sword was deflected, but
this time she kicked out and hit the man’s knee. He crumpled but
rolled away and righted himself in time to block Kira’s downstroke.
He threw her far enough away that he was able to get on his feet
before she could attack again.

The man was good. He was as good as Taren’s,
and against anyone but Kira, he would have won the match quickly.
He lunged at her, but Kira was prepared. She spun on her heel so
that the man stepped past her and as her spin ended, she was at his
unprotected back. She thrust her sword through his shoulder.

A shrieking cry tore through the clearing, so
sharp and horrific that Seth dropped his weapon to clutch his hands
over his ears in a vain attempt to block the sound. Through the
pain he focused on Kira. The sound didn’t affect her as it did him.
She stood still, watching the man who was now on the ground, his
hand clasping his wounded shoulder.

The shoulder that gushed green blood.

“Fairy-marked!” the man spat. No, not a man.
He was a fairy, or fey, or somehow connected to the world of magic.
The world they were now fighting against to save Rosamund. “Who are
you?”

Kira’s face held traces of shellshock, but
her voice was even as she answered. “I protect him, and if you come
against him, you answer to me.”

The fey stood, the skin knitting before their
eyes. “Think you so special now? Fairy-marked or not, you are
nothing but a weak human. I know him, and once I know you, I’ll
destroy you both.”

Seth spoke then. “Why are you after us?”

The shock the fey had experienced was now
past—that, or he had schooled himself to hide it away. “If my
master curses a princess, he does not wish a mortal fool to try to
change that circumstance.”

Seth stepped forward, fists clenched, but
Kira’s hand on his arm stopped him. She stared him down and said,
“Tell your master to cut his losses and move on now, because
nothing will stop us from saving her.”

“So you say, girl, so you say. But just
remember—” and the fey stepped back into the woods, with every move
becoming more insubstantial, before finally disappearing before
their eyes. “Fairies may have blessed you, but they are not allowed
to fight for you. When the time comes, it will be you and me, and
I—”

The last sight was his sharp, glittering
teeth.

“—never lose.”

Their sleeping bags were rolled out in front
of the fire. Kira had found a nice cave to stay in for the night.
Perfectly situated, dry, and creature free, it was a lucky find on
a night they misjudged the distance to the next town.

“Should we keep watch?” he asked as he got
the fire going.

Kira shook her head. “I’ve set up an alarm
system to tell us if a wandering creature comes by. As for the
other-” Her mouth turned down enough it resembled an ‘n’. He didn’t
think it was possible for a mouth to do that naturally. “What good
would alarms do against magic? The only hope is that my birthmark
warns us again.”

She didn’t look at the little mark on her
wrist, but he could see the effort it took not to. Since the
encounter with the fey, he often saw her touching the birthmark,
poking at it as if she expected it to jump at her in return.

He hated how it was consuming her. This small
mark didn’t define her – it never had and it wouldn’t now. All her
talents, her fire-forged will and brilliant mind, none of them
hinged around this collection of black lines.

Seth wrapped his hand around her wrist, the
birthmark now obscured by his hand. “I have every faith in you,
mark or not.”

She exhaled, her body relaxing under his
touch. With her free hand she traced the veins in his hand,
following the faint blue lines where they led.

The fire crackled beside them, the smell of
the burning wood wafting in the air. Firelight suited Kira’s red
hair and pale skin and made her seem to glow from within.

Where her fingertips trailed, his skin
heated. He flipped his wrist to trap her hand with his, but it
didn’t stop the warmth from where skin met skin.

She leaned into him, nuzzled the sensitive
skin between his below his ear. Her breath was as warm as the rest
of her as it caressed his skin.

And then there it was, the smallest brush of
her lips.

She touched him, and it rushed through him,
the truth he had been ruthless in suppressing. He wanted her. He
longed for her, reached towards her like a flower seeking the sun.
There was no one in his world for him except her.

Her lips were chapped, and the small
roughness sensitized him, made him aware of every inch of her skin
as it lay against his. She fit nicely against him, two puzzle
pieces that clicked together.

His arms came up to wrap around her back-

When we’re married, I’ll take you on a
picnic
…

Seth grabbed her upper arms and shoved Kira
away. Avoiding her wide green eyes and the betrayal within, Seth
turned away to unload the horses.

It had never been awkward between them, ever,
not until this moment.

They were on opposite sides of the fire.
Seth’s dark hair took on a faint reddish hue, and his blue eyes
were suspiciously bright, brighter than the light alone could
account for.

She huddled deeper into the blanket. It was a
mistake. She wanted one brush against him, one tiny touch to keep
in her heart. She wouldn’t lie to herself. There was nothing
innocent in her actions, and he had known that, just like he knew
everything.

“Kira.”

His voice was low but forceful, and she
obeyed, her eyes coming to rest on his face.

Seth was looking into the fire. His lips were
a thin, determined line and his eyes were narrowed, but there was
an awkward slope to his shoulders, his body curling around himself.
They were going to have a discussion, and he hated it.

Whatever it was, she’d endure. What could he
do? Make her love him and then turn around and marry another woman?
She bit down on her lip to stop the inappropriate snort.

He picked up a twig and tossed it into the
fire before he shifted to look at her. “I’ve met Rosamund.”

His words hit her like a glancing blow—hard
enough to push her off balance but not enough for her to tumble
down. “What are you talking about? We’ve never met her.” Her tone
was firm. Was strong. Because she was right, and his words now were
some sort of joke.

He ducked his head, rubbed the back of his
neck. He wouldn’t look at her; instead, his head canted sideways,
observing into the distance as though he decided to take up a watch
after all. “It was right before my thirteenth birthday. Do you
remember? We got lost in Mathias’s castle in that weird room.”

A shiver hit Kira’s nape hard and zinged down
every individual nerve in her back. She’d hated that dark room.
Nothing had felt right once they’d entered that wing. Seth had kept
pulling her like always, and while six months before she would have
stopped and told him—punishment or not—that they were not entering
those doors, at that time she’d begun to realize how her feelings
were something besides childhood friendship. Because of that, she’d
kept her silence and let him lead her into a situation that didn’t
feel right.

Seth wouldn’t have lied to her all this time.
Not about that. Her world might sometimes feel as though it was
perpetually on the verge of crashing down on her, but she kept that
truth dear, the truth that said no matter what his duty might force
him to do, their relationship was important, sacred, and none could
intrude on it.

He couldn’t have a secret with Rosamund. He
couldn’t have excluded her.

“I didn’t know how to tell you. I didn’t want
to betray her.”

The words punched through her chest. Betray
her
. Poor, poor Rosamund. That poor pathetic princess, who
had only taken everything from Kira. And now she took this.

“Sorry I forced myself on you.” The words
came from Kira’s mouth, but she didn’t know where they came from.
She never planned on saying this, didn’t even know she felt this.
But now that the words had come out, she couldn’t stop them,
couldn’t stop the pain pouring through them, couldn’t stop the
venom against a woman she had never met – but he had. “If only you
had explained the situation sooner, I’d have let you come alone.
Stupid me, thinking you needed me or trusted me. Or that I was
anything other than a guard to you. Stupid me for thinking I was
important. How could I be, when you had your fairy tale princess
waiting for you at the end of the story? I apologize for saddling
you with my company.”

His head swiveled in her direction, his brow
furrowed in confusion. What a ridiculous expression. He couldn’t
understand what he just
did
? “What are you talking
about?”

Her lip curled, and the fleeting thought
baring your fangs
flitted through her mind. “I didn’t know
how close you were with Rosamund. I hope I didn’t keep you from any
other secret rendezvous.”

His arms rested on bent knees, his hands
hanging down, now curling and uncurling into loose fists. “I don’t
know what you are talking about,” he began, his voice lowering into
that rarely visited range, the one that said he was losing grip of
his seldom-seen temper. “But you should stop right there. I’ve met
her once, and I kept that one meeting, that one secret from you.
Whatever else you’ve made up in your mind is false.”

“Then why keep it a secret?” she challenged.
“Why was that meeting so important, so precious that you couldn’t
share with me?”
What was so special about her that you hid it
from
me
?