Smolder (Crown of Fae #3) - Sharon Ashwood Page 0,30

to explore—anything except the path the Mother had set before her.

“Can you sense the phoenix at all?” she asked.

“No.”

The single word held so much loneliness, it was impossible not to feel it, too. Leena put a hand on his shoulder, tentative at first, but then easing into his arms. All she had left to offer was the comfort of touch.

His mouth found the curve of her shoulder, his lips hot and hungry on her skin. She slid closer, daring to slip her hands beneath the fabric of his tunic. In the heat of their embrace, the grim future became a dark phantasm she chose to banish.

Leena found the arch of his spine and the hard muscles that flared outward to his shoulders. Her pulse galloped, suddenly out of control. Their lips met, tasting, questing, seeking life and courage.

The bond they’d shared in the dance sparked to life. As Morran said, he was far better than before, yet there were jagged edges where something essential—his other half—had been torn away. Her chest ached, as if she shared his ceaseless psychic pain. Fae did not fade and die as humans did, but no one could survive that much heartbreak forever.

Sadness brought her back to the here and now. She pulled out of his arms, trying not to see the confusion in his eyes.

“What is it?” Morran asked, his breath warm upon her cheek.

A shout came from outside the wagon, rescuing her from the need for an explanation. They both froze like guilty youths caught in their embrace. Morran pushed the flap of the canvas aside to peer out. Pale dawn leaked through the opening. Against all odds, the dreadful night was over.

Leena crouched to look over his shoulder. A dozen yards from her wagon, a clutch of peasants from a nearby settlement was lined up before a handful of guards. Behind the visitors was a sorry-looking mule pulling a cart. The bed of the cart was piled high with baskets of bread. The Shades might not eat, but the rest of Juradoc’s forces had to be fed, and the general commandeered supplies wherever he went.

“We demanded sixty loaves, and you have brought us barely half that number,” barked the guard in charge.

The man holding the mule’s bridle visibly flinched, making the animal bray. The second peasant, a girl, vanished behind the cart, clearly intending to hide. The third was a graybeard, possibly the father of the other two. He fell to his knees, pressing his forehead to the dirt. He had the wiry muscles of someone used to hard work.

“Forgive us,” he said. “We only had enough grain in the whole village to make what we brought. There was no time to get more.”

Another figure approached, this one wearing the cloak of a Shade. He turned to the guard who had spoken before, inclining his hood in a nod. Leena saw with a shock the newcomer was Fionn. He stood without expression, the perfect picture of obedience.

“Punish the peasant,” the Shade said.

Fionn did not hesitate. He kicked the graybeard hard enough to send him sprawling into the dirt.

Leena recoiled with a gasp, nausea rolling through her. That was not her brother—or not who he’d used to be. Fionn had seemed better last night—why was he slipping so fast into the Shades’ power?

Morran gathered himself to spring from the wagon and intervene. Leena grabbed his shoulder. “Don’t. Giving yourself away won’t help.”

A tremor passed through him, but he let the canvas drop and turned to her.

“That was vile.”

“That was my brother.”

“Ah.” His eyes narrowed in understanding. “The one you desire me to save.”

“Yes. His name is Fionn. He is—” She broke off, unable to keep going. “He wasn’t like that.”

“They never are. Not before they are chosen to become the tool of their new masters.” Morran paused. “Does he know you’re here?”

“Yes. He found me out right away.”

Morran cursed under his breath. “I said I came for two reasons. My apology and thanks were but one.”

“And the other?”

“Now that you’ve restored my ability to think clearly, the other is obvious. I beg you to leave.”

“But we had a bargain.” And their embrace still lingered in her pulse, warming her to the core.

“And I will honor it, but you do not need to be present. If you stay, your brother will betray you.” Morran took her hand, pressing it between his. “I’m sorry.”

“He’s all the family I have left.” Her tone was defiant. “We were children when we made the march from the mountains