The fog rose, blanketing the strange outlines from my view. I shook my head and moved forward. The men were stepping into the denseness as if they knew a secret passage. It seemed to be a doorway of sorts.
Oliver rubbed his eyes, no doubt wondering at the strange sight.
The three men were speaking to each other in lower voices now. “I’ll catch up with you,” the one called Arrick told them.
The two other men said their goodbyes and stepped into the fog. Arrick bent down to refasten a buckle on my satchel.
“Now,” Oliver ordered.
And we made our move. Rushing forward with all the skill and stealth we’d been trained to use, we came upon the thief. Oliver stood at his left, while my blade tip touched the side of his neck.
He started in surprise, jerking upright with my blade following easily. When he tried to step away from me, Oliver’s sword was there to stop him. I held my weapon at his throat and glared at the shadow where his face hid behind his hood with every ounce of hatred and frustration boiling inside of me.
“I told you I would come for what’s mine.”
His shoulders squared. “You look different from this angle.”
I wanted to spit on his shoes, but instead I arched a brow and demanded, “My satchel.”
His head dipped, focusing on his hip where the pack in question rested. “Did you know there is something alive inside?” I opened my mouth to protest, but before I could utter a sound he’d produced Shiksa. “Wherever did you find a fox this shade? I’ve never seen one so completely white.”
“Put her back and hand over my purse,” I demanded. He grunted when Oliver’s blade nicked his cloak, tearing a whole at the seam of his hood.
“There’s no need for brute force,” Arrick argued. “I’m sure we can come to an agreement if you’d just talk this—”
I stepped forward, closing the safe distance between us. “Give me back what’s mine, Rebel, or I’ll see that you’re incapable of talking ever again.”
“Such threats,” he murmured. The amusement in his deep voice made me want to scream at him.
Something pointy pressed through the thick folds of my cloak. I made a sound in the back of my throat, but did not waver. When I lifted my eyes from Arrick’s cloaked face I saw that we were surrounded.
Oliver too had a blade at his back and beyond that there were more than a dozen men surrounding us.
I lifted my chin. “You’ll have to kill me then. I will not leave here without my satchel.”
“Clearly this purse is of some value to you, m’lady,” He said evenly. I growled something foul at his sudden appearance of chivalry. His smile was unmistakable this time as his hood fell back to reveal the lower half of his face. He lifted the satchel over his shoulder with slow, even movements and held it out to me. “It’s yours,” he offered gallantly.
“It is mine,” I agreed. I made no move to take it though, certain this was a trap.
He dangled it from his fingers. “Take it then.”
“What’s the catch?”
His grin widened. “Only a moment ago, you were willing to die for it. Now you’re concerned about catches? Please, woman, make up your mind.”
I lowered my sword and grabbed the satchel, holding it tightly against my chest and subtly feeling for the contents. It was impossible to tell if they had searched the bag, but the bottom remained sturdy, solid. I could only hope the crown was fine within the secret compartment. I used one arm to secure it across my body.
When I looked back to Arrick, he held Shiksa out to me with one long arm. I took her slowly, more carefully than I had the pouch. My fingers brushed his in the exchange, noting the heat from his against the iciness of mine.
My gaze met Oliver’s and I inclined my head. It was time to go. I had no idea why Arrick had given the satchel back, nor did I intend to stick around and find out. My only concern was to remove myself from this hellish forest and never return.
But before I could take one step, Arrick’s cool voice called out, “Now for the catch.”
“Dragon’s blood,” I hissed. My glare bored fire into his quite satisfied one.
“Now, now, m’lady. I wish you no harm. At least for now.”
My jaw locked and I spoke through clenched teeth. “Then what do you want?”
“Dinner?” he suggested. “A conversation?” His smiled disappeared, replaced with a rather terrifying frown. “You will be my guest until I have decided otherwise.”
“Your prisoner, you mean.”
“Call it what you wish, but either is better than corpse.”
He had a point. And now that I had the crown back, I was significantly less inclined to offer my life. I could handle imprisonment for now. It would only be a matter of time before Oliver and I figured out a way to escape.
“Fine,” I growled.
He stepped forward. “Are you allowing me to take you prisoner?”
I narrowed my eyes. “Yes.”
“How gracious of you.” He bowed his head, then swept his arm toward the fog. “Ladies first.”
I wanted to pick up my sword and run him clean through. Instead, I tucked Shiksa into my satchel and followed after him.
His men stayed in a close circle, forcing Oliver to follow. They didn’t bother to take our swords and I had to believe that was because they knew they had the upper hand. Oliver and I were good with our weapons, but not good enough to take them all.
I stepped through the curtain of fog, shivering. We emerged on the other side of the veil and blinked.
What stood before us was not towering giants or armed sentries, but houses perched in the bosoms of the massive cedars. The windows glowed with candlelight and the smell of fire and
