The Golden Prince Page 9

  My heart galloped even as our horses stood waiting for their next commands. I swung my leg over my steed and jumped down.

  Crispin slid off gracefully. “Imbecile. I’ve been worried out of my mind.” I recognized the harshness in his voice for what it really was. Worry. Relief.

  Striding up to Crispin, I took the torch from his hand and set it on the ground, away from the horses, before reaching around his neck to pull him into a kiss. Shaky hands pushed at my chest. He wanted to scold me first. I snatched his wrists and pinned them behind his back.

  “I rode all night to feel your mouth against mine,” I growled.

  He stopped struggling. On the next kiss, his lips parted for my tongue. With a playful flick, I coaxed his tongue to swirl and tangle with my own. My hold loosened on his wrists. Palms gliding over his hips, I slipped one hand beneath his wool riding jacket and felt my way up his lean abs. The swell of muscles pressed through his linen shirt. We kissed while my fingers roamed. Crispin panted into my mouth. Brazenly, I let my hands drift down and cupped the bulge straining through his riding breeches. I recaptured Crispin’s wrist and brought his hand to my own erection. His fingers were featherlight. Hesitant. I pressed my hand over his, increasing the pressure over my throbbing cock. Groaning my pleasure down his throat, I cajoled Crispin’s hand into rubbing my length.

  “How far is it to Ashcraw?” I demanded.

  My need for Crispin gripped me on a primal level. He was like food, water, and oxygen. To go without him for too long would leave me famished and wasting away.

  “What?” He blinked as though emerging from a haze. Crispin pulled his hand away. I tried to snatch it back, but he stepped out of reach with those long legs of his. Taking a ragged breath, he reached behind his head and gripped the hair gathered at his back. “Lark, we can’t do this. We can’t be together. I’m engaged.”

  The desire that had been shimmering inside my heart drifted to my stomach like dust. “So break it off,” I said, not masking my annoyance.

  He wanted me, not Pervinca. He couldn’t lie. Even if he could, his body had told me everything I needed to know.

  Crispin pulled at his hair. “I can’t turn my back on my family and responsibilities to follow my own selfish whims.”

  “Selfish whims?” I folded my arms across my chest and frowned. “Is that all I am? A craving to be consumed, then crushed?”

  Crispin sighed and looked into the distance like he was already staring into a future that didn’t involve me.

  My heart pounded so far up my throat I thought I might spit it right out into the earl’s face. He was doing it again. Trying to walk away from me and everything he felt. He was such a proud, stubborn mule. If he wanted to play by his father’s rules, then he should have never kissed me. There was no walking away now. Crispin Maglen didn’t seem to realize he’d given himself to me and I would hold on until the very end. I came from a long line of obsessive Fae males who never gave up.

  Did Crispin really think he could push me away with something as trite as family duty?

  I was in love with the pompous prick. That didn’t make me any less furious with him.

  “If you won’t fight for us, I will,” I informed him. My nostrils flared. What was his plan? To send me back to Dahlquist after I’d ridden all night to reach him?

  “You know how I feel about you. This has nothing to do with that,” Crispin argued. “If I don’t marry Pervinca, my sister will be forced to marry someone worse.”

  My chest lifted, and the dark clouds in my mind dissipated as his motives came into focus. My voice softened. “You’re protecting your sister.”

  Crispin nodded once. His lips pressed tight in firm resolve.

  Well, this was something I could work with.

  “Right.” I rubbed my hands together. “We’ll go get Kenzie and be on our way to Pinemist. There are several guest cottages to choose from. Mom will be thrilled. The more the merrier.” I headed to my horse.

  “You’re not speaking of the elven realm, are you?” Surprised by the gruff demand of Crispin’s tone, I turned around and caught the incredulous, haughty look on his face. “I am not like you, Lark. I don’t wish to portal from realm to realm. Faerie is my home. It’s Kenzie’s home too. We can’t just run away. I could never do that to my family. I’d be spitting on our ancestors. Destroying the Maglen name. My parents would never get over the humiliation. They’d lose Ashcraw. Our family would be forever disgraced.”

  I frowned. Sky above, he made it all sound so dire. If he listened to his damn heart, it would be much simpler. What did Crispin expect me to do? Say goodbye? Ride off into the dawn and spend every waking moment from this day forth pining after him?

  Before I could turn my whirling thoughts into outright demands, Crispin tensed. “Were you followed?” The low, ominous timbre of his voice brought a chill over me.

  Following his widened gaze, I turned to see four figures riding in the distance, closing in fast. Each of the riders held a torch. Their flames streaked across the dark road.

  Without another word, Crispin and I ran to our mounts. We sprang to our saddles.

  “Ride back home. I’ll lead them into the woods,” I shouted, kicking my heels against my horse.

  Crispin cursed as I took off at a gallop for the forest. Adrenaline thundered through me with each rise and fall of the horse’s hooves.

  The riders were after me, not Crispin. No one had ever threatened the earl. I’d lead them away while he escaped. I’d draw those bastards into a trap. There were four of them, but I had fire magic and a sword. They wouldn’t be able to block my attack with fireballs erupting in their faces.

  Another set of hoofbeats thundered beside me. It was too soon for them to have caught up. Looking over, I saw Crispin, fisting his reins, cantering alongside me.

  “What in the seven hells are you doing?” I wanted to yell, but conversation was impossible.

  Pitberries! The damn male wouldn’t defy his parents for me, but he’d risk his neck against assassins. Sky, he drove me wild.

  Navigating the trees slowed us down. As soon as we were deep enough to be camouflaged, I pulled my steed to a halt and jumped down. Crispin followed my lead. His breaths were deep, nostrils flared.

  “You should have ridden home like I told you,” I thundered.

  “You should have come with me,” Crispin returned.

  I smacked my horse on his hindquarters followed by Crispin’s, sending our steeds trampling through the bushes.

  “What are you doing?” Crispin hissed.

  I put my finger to his lips and glared into his eyes. No more talking. I grabbed his hand. The fear of being hunted down made me squeeze his fingers tighter than I’d intended. When Crispin gripped back, I loosened my hold. Picking our way carefully through the underbrush, we headed deeper into the forest, traveling in a different direction than our horses. Ferns brushed our legs. Prickly vegetation caught my cloak. I clenched my jaw and pressed on. When something crawled over my neck, I had to clamp my teeth together to keep from hyperventilating. I wasn’t what you’d call an outdoorsy person. Unless courtyards and terraces could be counted as outdoors.

  As careful as we were, our bodies made the bushes rustle and twigs snap underfoot. My pursuers would be reaching the edge of the forest soon, if they weren’t already steering their mounts through now.

  Crouching in the brush, I pulled out my sword. Crispin did the same. Sometime during our trek, his hair had come loose from its tie and now fell unbound across his cheeks and shoulders. His eyes were bright and alert. He always managed to look dashing no matter what the occasion. I felt like a sweaty mess from riding beneath a thick wool cloak half the night.

  We kept quiet. Waiting. Schooling our breath.

  Hearing nothing, I whispered to Crispin, “We should venture deeper into the forest.”

  He looked at me with wide, wild eyes. “What? No! I told you there are beasts in these woods.”

  “I’d rather take my c
hances with creatures than assassins.” Despite my words, it was the spiders I worried about as I led the way through overhanging brush and trees with drooping branches that seem to want to steal my cloak. The thick flap of fabric made too much noise catching on all the vegetation crowding in on us. It was tempting to whack through the tangle of vines with my sword. I sheathed it instead. No sense dulling the blade when I might have need of it against Fae cutthroats.

  The first hints of dawn angled through the trees. Orangish light splotched overhead and melted into the scorched earth. Crispin and I stopped, speechless as the lush green vegetation morphed into a clearing of wilted plants.

  “What in the seven hells?” I whispered.

  Momentarily forgetting the assassins, I stared at an area of desert landscape that had no business existing in the woods. The soil looked sunbaked. It was dry and cracked. Leaves had shriveled and curled on tree branches that looked like they hadn’t seen water in a decade. Fissures ran the length of a trunk that appeared ready to crash to the barren ground. Anything once green had withered.

  I walked the edge of the desolate perimeter as though it was quicksand to avoid. My eyes scanned every patch before me, which was how I spotted the egg with brown blotches over its cream shell. It was somewhat hidden beneath a small pile of brittle branches like an upside-down bird’s nest. The egg itself was large enough to cup with two hands. “What the pit is that?”

  Crispin looked over my shoulder and cursed. “Bloody brilliant, Father. He must have brought back a pregnant basilisk.”

  I whipped around. “Excuse me. Did you just say basilisk?”

  Crispin grimaced. “Unfortunately.”

  Basilisks hailed from the kingdom of Phantiste. They had no business anywhere near Ashcraw or the kingdom of Dahlquist.

  “Why?” I demanded.

  “The centicores have been venturing onto the roads and into the villages. Father wanted to curb their numbers.”

  My jaw dropped. “But centicores are native to Dahlquist.”

  Crispin sighed. “I know. Listening to reason isn’t one of the count’s talents.”

  “One basilisk is already one too many. We can’t allow that egg to hatch.” I lifted my arm and called fire to my fingers. A ball of flames formed over my palm. Time to cook this unborn basilisk before it had a chance to hatch.

  “No!” Crispin yelped as I took a step forward. He hurried to plant himself between me and the egg. “It’s not the creature’s fault it was brought here. We should return the mother and her egg to Phantiste.”

  Deep grooves appeared over Crispin’s eyebrows. Faint dark crescents bagged beneath his eyes. He looked sad, tired, and determined. His concern to right his father’s wrong touched my heart and made the love I felt for him expand like the sun over the horizon inside my chest. I put out my flame.

  “Crispin Maglen, who knew you were such a bleeding heart?” I ran a hand through his hair. I wanted to wrap my fingers around his silky strands and pull him into a kiss, especially when he smirked.

  “I seem to have a fondness for willful creatures.”

  He’d discover just how determined I was to have him and keep him as my own once we got out of this mess.

  “I don’t suppose you know of any portal access points inside these woods.”

  Crispin shook his head. “There must be one somewhere nearby. My father and Nashton know.”

  “Okay, we need to get to Ashcraw. At least we know where to come back and find the egg. The mother can’t be too far off.”

  Speaking of which, it was time to mosey on. I didn’t like the idea of snakes any more than spiders. We once took a family trip to Phantiste, but I’d gotten a sudden “cold” when it was time for safari through the Vasose Plain. While my family trekked the barren landscape, I stayed at the inn drinking ale and reading a GQ magazine from the mortal world in my room. I’d been perfectly content to hear about the creatures my family had seen.

  With backtracking out of the question, we headed northward. My nature skills weren’t tops, but I’d always had a keen sense of direction. We passed the small stretch of desertscape, slowly making our way toward Ashcraw. At some point, we’d need to head eastward out of the woods, but it would take hours on foot to reach the count’s estate.

  “A set of horses would have been useful, don’t you think?” Crispin asked in a teasing tone.

  “Nah, too obvious. We’ll have the advantage from the ground.”

  Hopefully, we wouldn’t need it. I pulled my cloak against me and led the way. As more sunlight filtered in, it became easier to pick the path of least resistance. Unfortunately, the spiders used the spaces between brush for making their webs. I pulled my sword out and cut through them.

  “Lark Elmray, destroyer of spiderwebs,” Crispin badgered behind me.

  “At least I’m not burning them. And you’re welcome for clearing the way.”

  Crispin made an adorable little huffy sound. “I suppose it’s your duty as a prince to be cavalier.”

  “Only for you, Crispin.” He remained silent after that. I smiled to myself, thinking of him playing my words over as he followed behind me. Once we made it out of the woods and took care of this business of the basilisk, the earl and I were going to have words. Or perhaps the count was the one who required a talking-to. Whatever the Peppercuffs were offering, I’d promise more. So yeah, the treasury was a bit tight (Mom, Dads, cough, cough), but I’d find a way to make it work. Crispin was worth any price. If he wished to stay in Faerie, I’d make it happen. I’d cut through spiderwebs and brave basilisks, assassins, and more to win over the earl of my heart.

  As the sun lifted overhead, Crispin groaned. I glanced briefly over my shoulder and saw him rubbing his eyes.

  “Father will be rising from bed soon.”

  “I wouldn’t mind him sending the cavalry at this point,” I admitted.

  “Do you think we lost them?”

  I shrugged. “If we’re lucky, they headed south or west. If we’re super lucky, the basilisk got them.”

  Crispin grunted in amusement. “That or a centicore trampled them. I hope the basilisk didn’t kill any of the poor creatures.”

  “Let’s worry about our own safety first,” I suggested as my boots sank into boggy marsh. Mud oozed up to my ankles. Pitberries!

  I stepped back and skirted the marsh, heading eastward, but the soggy ground spread out, stretching south. I did not want to take any more steps back the way we’d come.

  Have I mentioned recently how much I despise the outdoors?

  “We have to walk through the muck,” I announced.

  “Lead the way,” Crispin returned, sounding utterly calm. I wouldn’t have pegged him as an outdoor enthusiast. Then again, I hadn’t realized he was an animal lover, either.

  At least our misadventure provided an opportunity to get to know him better.

  There had been no sounds of the pursuers. I felt confident that we just needed to complete the trek through the woods and steer clear of wild beasts—and spiderwebs—before dealing with the real ogre (a.k.a. Count Ralphio).

  Marsh water seeped into the end of my cloak, weighing it down. I would have chucked the whole thing off, but I didn’t want to leave any bread crumbs for our pursuers in case they followed. I doubted they’d expect me to slog through marsh. If I were to guess, I’d say they were keeping close to my original point of entry, thinking I’d hide to wait them out and then run to the nearest village for help. Too bad for the miscreants I’d be long gone before they wised up.

  I heard a curse quickly followed by a wet plop. Turning around, I found Crispin on his hands and knees in the muck.

  “Don’t you dare laugh,” Crispin warned in a menacing tone as my lips lifted. “I tripped on a damn stick or something sticking out under the murk.”

  I stepped over to him carefully and held out my hand. Crispin took it, squishing cold sludge into my palm. If it had been anyone else’s hand, I would have cringed. As I helped the earl, my lips quive
red with mirth. The front of Crispin’s trim riding outfit was covered in mud. Once on his feet, Crispin yanked his hand out of mine and looked down his front with a scowl.

  “I bet a hot bath sounds good right about now.” I lifted my brows and did Crispin the kindness of holding back my laughter.

  “Among other things,” Crispin grumbled.

  “I’m hungry,” I said. “Do you think the count could wait until after breakfast to throw a fit?”

  Crispin snorted.

  Once we made it through the marsh, I sighed with relief. “I think it’s time to head back to the road.”

  “Praise Sky.” Crispin sighed.

  We stomped the mud off our boots as best we could. There was nothing to be done for Crispin’s clothing. I was so ready to shuck off the cloak. I swear I could feel the dampness creeping up my back, heading for my neck.

  We moved through the forest at a fast clip. I couldn’t wait to feel smooth, compact road beneath my boots. By now, there might be citizens out on the road. Maybe we’d be lucky and catch a cart making deliveries. A bath followed by hot tea and breakfast sounded divine right then.

  Sunlight shone through the woods. The road and fields ahead were like a beacon prompting us to jog into its ready embrace. When I took my first step out of the trees, the road appeared to be deserted. Then I heard a shout. Two riders farther up held their hands over their eyes.

  Pitberries!

  I grabbed Crispin’s arm. “I don’t suppose those are your father’s guards?”

  “No.” The low timbre of Crispin’s voice made my heart sink.

  “It’s too late to flee,” I said as I pulled out my sword.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Crispin

  As two scruffy looking males galloped toward us, I scanned the road for help.

  There was no one else around. Lark and I were on our own to battle assassins. Well, I wouldn’t let the bastards kill the prince. I pulled out my sword and stepped in front of him.