“Get off!” The changeling fights and screams as one of the seekers grabs her by the hair and tries to yank her from the carriage.
I press my palm to its chest, and it turns into ash as she falls back inside. Following her in, I ask, “Are you all right?”
“Fine.” Her gaze darts up. “Watch out!”
I shove my sword behind me, gutting the seeker who’d been running toward me.
She sinks onto a pillow and wipes her brow, leaving a bloody streak.
“A bite?” I climb the rest of the way in and pull her arm to me. Three long gashes mark the skin of her arm, blood welling as she winces.
“It scratched me. I’m all right.”
Brock yells for the guards to chase the creatures down. The assault must be over.
“Here.” I pull her closer, sitting her in my lap as I line up our arms.
“What are you—”
“Shh.” I press my lips to her ear. “I have my mother’s talent for healing, but not her strength. I have to concentrate.”
“I, um.” She takes a deep breath as I pull her against me, her back to my chest as I concentrate on her; her breathing, the midnight jasmine scent of her hair, the smoothness of her pale skin.
She’s exquisite, so different from the females of the Dayland court with their golden hair and sun-loved skin. Not this changeling. She is part of the night, her red hair a flame in the dark.
I breathe her in and force my thoughts to the cuts on her arm. They flicker with green, then slowly close. My healing is spent before they’re completely healed, but they’re well on their way and shouldn’t scar.
“Better?” I press my lips to her ear, enjoying the goosebumps that spread down her neck and shoulder.
“Yes.”
My arm tightens around her waist, and I have the distinct desire to bite her.
She tries to pull away. “I’m good now. You can stop whatever it is you’re doing.”
“I think I’ll keep doing exactly what I want.” I taste her skin, my mouth fastening to her smooth neck in an open kiss.
Her breath catches and she wiggles her hips just a little, setting off a throb in my already-hard cock. The need to bite her surges inside me. Which is ludicrous. Fae only bite their mates. And this changeling—though she is delicious—isn’t my mate. She can’t be. She’s a mortal, and no bond runs between us, no desperation to claim her. Well, perhaps the claiming part is true. I came to the Nightlands dreading choosing my consorts. But now, with this strange creature on my lap, I’m rather pleased with my selection.
But she’s still just a changeling. I’ve heard rumors of the winter realm king choosing a changeling mate, but there’s no way that could be true. Changelings are not mates, especially not for a Daylands high fae.
“My lord.” Brock opens the carriage door, takes one look at me, then turns away. “Forgive the intrusion, but we’ve handled the seekers and can continue in safety.”
I relinquish my prize, her enchanting taste still on my tongue. “Casualties?”
“Four soldiers.”
I bite out a curse and climb down from the carriage. Closing the door, I give her one more look. Her eyes are wide, the vein at her throat fluttering like butterfly wings. Surging back inside and taking her right there on the carriage floor is a sharp temptation, but I have to focus on my people.
“Bitten?” I force myself to walk away from her.
“One.” Brock matches my steps.
“Where?” I follow his direction to a wide oak a few steps off the road.
One of my soldiers sits at its base, his helmet tossed aside, a grim look on his face. “Sire.” He tries to rise.
“Sit.” I drop to my haunches beside him.
He stills. “I apologize for this—” He gestures toward his bloody throat.
“Don’t apologize.” I peer at the wound, the edges turning a darker red. “What’s your name?”
“Vigel.”
“You did your duty, Vigel.”
“Not good enough, I suppose.” He manages a wan smile and a shrug.
“Can you ride?” I ask.
“I can.” He grimaces and shifts, the seeker’s poison eating away at his life. A bite like this could stop a changeling’s heart instantly, but Vigel lingers, his high fae blood trying to fight the seeker’s venom.
“You could survive this.” I meet his gaze. “A single bite doesn’t have to mean—”
“I know it’s bad.” He sighs. “I can feel it inside me, working its way deeper and deeper.”
As he says it, the dark crimson from the edge of the wound begins to spread, showing in the veins along his jaw and cheek.
“We can leave you here in the Nightlands.” I go to stand. “You could become as they are and—”
“No!” He grabs my arm.
Brock tenses.
“It’s all right,” I tell him.
“I’d rather see the sun.” Vigel removes his hold with an apologetic wince. “If I may, my lord.”
“Sit tight, Vigel.” I rise and pull Brock away to speak in private. “We can take him with us.”
“No.” Brock’s jaw is tight. “He could turn. It’s too dangerous.”
“If he turns seeker, then we’ll deal with it, but I can’t deny him a chance to see the day again.”
“And if the day kills him?”
“Then that was his choice to make.” I scrub the growth of beard on my cheek and glance at the other soldiers who pretend to be examining the trees instead of watching me. “I’m not going to leave him here.”
“We can’t let him turn and add to seeker numbers. He knew what this mission entailed.” Brock, forever a military strategist, shakes his head. “We should end it now.”
“No.” I shrug. After all, I have the final say. “We take him with us. If he turns, then we’ll do what we must. But he is a Daylander, and we will honor him for his service.”
I point to the nearest soldier. “You there. Help Vigel onto his horse. You will be responsible for him for the rest of the journey. Do you understand?”
“Yes, my lord.” He dismounts and hurries to the wounded soldier.
Brock chews the inside of his lip as we mount our horses again. I shoot a look to the carriage. The changeling is hidden inside, though her taste is still on my tongue.
Brock gives the signal to start our march toward the sun, and we keep tighter ranks as the woods crowd endlessly around us.
“I’ll send a messenger to King Sigrid as soon as we return to the Shard of Day. This attack can’t be overlooked, not when we were promised safe passage.”
“He’ll say that he had no idea the seekers were prowling around.” I sigh. “He’s good at dissembling, just like my father was.”
“Even so, this can’t go unanswered.”
“You’re right. I’ll consider my options.” I look back again, my gaze drawn unerringly to the changeling.
“I know exactly what option you’re considering,” Brock grumbles and rides ahead, his eyes combing the road for any more threats.
I don’t deny it. The saucy changeling—Emma she said her name is—has whet my appetite for more. She survived the seekers, but I’m quite interested to see how she fares at the day court. The danger there is just as potent, but far more difficult to spot.