The Knight and the Moth (The Stonewater Kingdom, #1)(18)

I gasped. “Why did he do that? It’s just a little thing!”

“Beastly creatures, sprites,” said a voice near my ear.

I’d forgotten Hamelin. He walked with another knight behind One and me, looking up at the sprites in the trees, hand lowered to the hilt of his sword. “Creatures of the land can’t be trusted. There’s no room for mercy, even for the little ones. Large or small, handsome or monstrous, all sprites are violent and impossible to control.”

“Not true,” One countered. “The gargoyles are sprites. Ancient ones, trained by abbesses of old to serve the cathedral. They heel well enough.” She looked up at the trees. “These little ones seem harmless. No need to be brutes.”

The knights were clearly not of the same mind. “All respect, Diviner, but you’ve never been to the Chiming Wood,” said the man behind me. “Or the Fervent Peaks.” He glowered up at the trees. “There’s nothing redemptive about creatures who would happily eat you for breakfast.”

We passed the fallen sprite, its little body unmoving, as if asleep. I had the intrusive desire to lay my palm on it. “He shouldn’t have killed it. It’s lovely. Even in death.”

“Not as lovely as you, Diviner,” Hamelin said.

One snorted and looked over her shoulder. “Didn’t I kiss you last night?”

The second knight laughed. “That was me.” He wielded his smile as well as Hamelin. “I’m Dedrick Lange, from the Seacht. Remember?”

“Oh… yes. Sorry.” One waved a hand in his face. “All you seem the same to me.”

The knights eyed each other, like she’d said something funny, and I knew it was she and I, not themselves, they found indistinguishable.

The abbess strips you of name, face, clothes, distinction… Careful, Number Six. Someone will accuse you of having too much fun up here on this god-awful hill.

I shook my head, but Rory’s voice persisted, a grating tune that didn’t end.

You know of the Omens and signs and how to look down your nose at everyone, but nothing of what really goes on in the hamlets.

… You call wasting your time dreaming of signs living, Diviner?

“Are you married?” I asked abruptly.

Hamelin laughed, drawing looks. “Not even close—”

“Fantastic.” I turned to One. “I’m taking a turn in the grass. Don’t wait for me.”

Her brows lifted over her shroud. “Really?”

“Really.”

I took Hamelin’s hand. He followed me without question, grinning, and the two of us trampled off the road through greenery, slipping away between trees like we, too, were sprites in the glen.

The Diviners whistled, a few knights applauding, as they watched us go.

I doubted Rory was one of them.

I hopped over a fern, lost sight of the road, and then my back was being pressed into a particularly wide beech tree. Hamelin dropped his helmet in the grass, and I withdrew my cloak.

When I kissed him on the mouth, he seemed dazed. Awestruck. Then reason caught him up. He kissed me back, then down my neck, his mouth a stranger upon my skin. “I meant it,” he said, lips drawing up my throat. “You’re lovely. Yesterday’s Divination—” He cupped my breast through my dress. “You looked mythical—practically fearsome. I couldn’t look away. No one could.”

It was a nice thing to say, and it, along with his touch, did nothing to stir me. “Do you need help out of your armor?”

He shook his head. “Wouldn’t be knightly of me, begging your assistance.”

“I don’t mind.”

He reached down and caught one of my legs, hooking it over his hip as he pressed me harder into the tree. “Why did you ask if I was married?”

“Wouldn’t want to lie down with a married man.”

“Do Diviners marry?”

Did we? “If we wish to after our ten years are up, I suppose. I haven’t really thought about it—”

Hamelin cut me off with a kiss. Our tongues touched. It was warm, and so was the night air. “Imagine the influence,” he murmured against my mouth, “being wedded to a daughter of Aisling.”

“Perhaps we shouldn’t talk.”

He chuckled breathily, his hand rising up my leg. “Sorry. I’m a little overwhelmed.” His teeth grazed my bottom lip. “No one back home in the Peaks is going to believe I fucked a Diviner.”

What little desire I felt fled my body. How rough the tree suddenly felt against my back. How cold his gauntlets over my skin, how brutal his armor between my legs.

I pulled away from the tree so abruptly Hamelin had to brace himself to keep from falling. “What—” His nostrils flared, pupils wide in the dim light. “Are you well?”

“I was under the misconception that it would be good for me, having a bit of fun.” I scrubbed my hands down my wrinkled dress and picked up my cloak. “But I can see I am not suited for this variety of it. Besides”—I kept my voice cold—“I’d rather remain practically fearsome than be someone you fucked in the glen.”

Hamelin tried to grin. “Surely you could be both.”

“Would you still be able to take pleasure, knowing I was not enjoying myself?”