He had expected the Commander to get snarky, but Arethusa just frowned at him and said, “Of course.”
He liked his horse. It was a no-nonsense worker and knew its job. He touched his heels to its side, and it broke into a canter. He rode away from the party at a fast, steady pace until he reached a copse far enough away he could be sure of some privacy. He stopped, tethered the horse, changed into his Wyr form and launched into the air.
The Dark Fae had grown used to Adriyel being protected. The faeries would have a conniption if they caught sight of a Wyr thunderbird soaring over their land, so he figured it was best if they didn’t see him, at least for now. He had never asked for permission to fly before, and he intended to never ask for forgiveness, so he cloaked himself as he flew. The oldest and most Powerful of the Wyr, such as Dragos and his sentinels, had the ability to hide themselves from normal sight. They didn’t spread that fact around to just anybody.
He flew several miles ahead of the party, and then he scouted to either side and took a look at their rear flank just to be safe. All was peaceful and well in the countryside. There were no sneaky faeries lying in wait. Niniane was safe. She might not be happy yet, but she would be one day. He swore he would make that happen. For now it was enough that she was safe and riding a pretty horse on a sunny cool afternoon with old friends surrounding her.
He dared to relax, just for a little while. The sharp wind blew. It lifted him high where the air was thin and sounded a mournful, endless song. The lustrous sun blazed with a greater clarity than he had seen in far too long, and the shimmering land magic rose to greet him as he soared, his great wings outspread.
And it was so blessed quiet.
SEVENTEEN
After his scouting venture, Tiago rejoined the party looking refreshed and invigorated. Niniane’s spirits took an upward surge as she watched him approach. He was a superb horseman. His black-clad figure astride the huge dappled gray gelding was eye-catching as they moved across the land with power and grace. He was easily the largest male of the group. The Dark Fae males who reached his height had lean whipcord strength, but they appeared willowy and almost effeminate by comparison.
Tiago approached to check on her welfare, his dark gaze searching her features as she smiled at him. His Power enfolded her in a brief, vibrant, invisible caress. Then he took his leave again. He consulted with Arethusa, collected three soldiers and went ahead on the road.
Then the party reached a bend in a wide shallow river, where Arethusa called a halt for the day. The area had been used several times as a campsite, and the underbrush had already been cleared away. Tiago and his group of soldiers were gathering kindling and chopping wood, so setting up camp became an easy chore for the new arrivals. The temperature began a sharp drop as the sun moved low in the sky. There would be a hard frost that night. Soon several large campfires were set and blazing.
Many of the party had modern nylon domed tents, but Niniane’s tent was a large, luxurious Dark Fae construction, warmed by woolen carpets and sectioned into two rooms by heavy, embroidered wall hangings. The outer sitting room had pillows, two cushioned wooden chairs, lamps and a campfire ring, where a small fire in a brazier chased away the damp and the chill. The second room contained her bed, a stool and a small travel desk, her saddlebags, another lamp that hung from a hook on a metal pole and the two trunks that contained her belongings. There was also, a Dark Fae female soldier informed her, a brass tub. If her highness would like, water could be heated for a hot bath.
Niniane almost groaned out loud when she heard. She and Cameron had hobbled into her tent to collapse in the chairs. They were among the worst off in the group. She didn’t know if the Vampyre’s human attendants also suffered. Cameron was a fit athlete but had never before ridden a horse for hours on end, and it had been many years since Niniane had.
“Is our pain that obvious?” Niniane asked. Cameron had sunk low in her chair and gave her a dour look.
“Yes, ma’am,” said the female soldier. The other Dark Fae female’s face remained impassive, but her gray eyes smiled in sympathy.
Niniane said, “I would be most grateful for a hot bath. Cam?”
“I don’t have a firstborn,” said Cameron. “But you can have mine if I ever do.”
“We will heat water,” said the soldier.