Morick fought back a yawn and lost, covering it with his shoulder belatedly. “The early bird is a loser.”
“You’re not even clever this early in the morning,” Nora said in disappointment.
The four of us had taken shelter in the brush, waiting for the welcome rumble of the tax collectors’ carriages. They kept changing their hours, trying to avoid us; they’d sheltered for the night in a barn beset by wakeful guards. We’d been happy to sleep in the warmth of a pub until a few hours before dawn, taking turns watching them, until they began to move. We might be brigands, but we were flexible, industrious brigands.
Well, Morick hadn’t done much sleeping. He’d had sex with one of the barmaids in the pantry behind the pub, in between pickle jars and grain sacks.
“You should’ve come last night, Bryden,” Morick said, stifling another yawn. “It was fun, and she would’ve been up for two. She said you were cute.”
Bryden’s ears colored, but never as bright as his hair. “No thanks.”
“Holding out for someone?” Morick asked innocently, and I hadn’t thought it was possible, but this time Bryden’s ears did match his fiery red hair.
“No,” Bryden grumbled, casting a furtive glance at Nora to make sure she didn’t notice.
She hadn’t; she never did. I was endlessly fascinated by how that girl could be simultaneously sharp as a tack ferreting out other’s secrets but stupid as a blank page when it came to seeing something Bryden hardly kept secret. She simply didn’t see how Bryden looked at her.
I’d thought at first she was ignoring him, the way some girls do when they don’t want to deal with a man’s attention, but no; Nora was smart as hell until it came to love, and then she was about as sharp as a frog under a carriage wheel.
“We can’t all be like Caldren,” Nora said airily. “Finding true love right in front of us.”
Morick buried his face in his hands. Bryden and Nora dancing—so very badly—around the edges of their love for each other personally offended Morick.
“Nora, it’s too early to be so judgy,” I said lightly, ignoring the way Nora’s distaste for Honor annoyed me. “You don’t even know her.”
“Correct,” Nora said. “How can you love her if your friends haven’t even met her?”
I scoffed. “I never said I loved her. And are you my friends? Because I feel like I sort of accidentally collected you all, because of your love for thievery and rebellion and drinking for free at my pub…”
Morick slung his arm across my shoulders. “We are, and you’re one lucky man.” He pressed a kiss to my cheek—a distinctly sloppy one that smelled of whiskey—then pulled away and collapsed back into a heap in the bushes.
“So very lucky,” I said dryly, even though it was true, as I wiped his spit off my cheek with my sleeve. I didn’t know what I’d do if I didn’t have these three who watched my back, traded barbs with me as if I’d never been the king’s son, and filled the void left by losing my brother and the other royals.
“You can’t blame me for disliking her,” Nora said, and Bryden groaned. Morick rested his head on Bryden’s shoulder, the two of them sharing a quick look of exasperation. Nora was relentless.
“I can,” I disagreed. “She’s done nothing to you.”
“She let your brother abandon you. Again.” Nora’s face was alive with fury, and even if Morick and Bryden thought it was because of her jealousy, I had a feeling the truth was more complicated. Nora was fiercely loyal and expected the same from everyone around her. That Jaik hadn’t chosen me bothered her almost more than it bothered me; it was a sore spot she kept returning to, no matter how much I told her it wasn’t her battle. She should allow me to carry the only grudge against my brother and let it die when I wished.
But sometimes when people care about us, they steal our grudges for their own.
“She was unconscious.”
For a moment, Nora looked thrown by those three blunt words. Then she rallied. “If she hadn’t been, do you think she would’ve fought for you?”
The question made me feel a rush of anger I didn’t want to examine. “I have no idea what Honor would’ve done if she hadn’t been tortured into oblivion, no.”
“Stop,” Bryden told her softly.
I rose because I heard a distant rumble of carriage wheels, then I moved stealthily along the brush; really, I wanted to get some distance from Nora. Her questions were making me feel bitter, fragile, unwanted feelings. I wanted to be the cool-headed, reliable man in Honor’s life who didn’t need anything from her, who gave instead of taking.
The dragon royals were very good at taking.
In the distance, I heard Bryden tell her softly, “You’re not going to win his heart by trying to break it. Leave the man in peace.”
“If you can’t see what’s right in front of your face,” Morick added at my elbow, his voice a faint breath that barely reached my ears. He would’ve been quite stealthy if it hadn’t been for the alcohol seeping steadily out of his pores.
“And here I thought you were napping.”
“Nah, boss, it’s time for—” He broke off suddenly, his head tilting to one side; I heard it at the same time as he did.
Those carriages were moving fast.
The kind of fast they normally only moved when we were chasing them.
“Trouble,” Bryden muttered.
“The kind of trouble we didn’t start, which is the kind of trouble I don’t like,” Nora added.
The next moment, the carriages rose over the crest of the hill. They were flying along, and two brigands clung to the roof of one. One of them managed to fling open the hatch and slip inside. The other threw us a wave and a sunny smile, then leapt back to the second carriage, a daring long jump that seemed to leave them suspended in the air for a moment. Then they landed with a thump, rolled—the coach swerved to one side—and then they made it inside too.
The door to the first coach flew open, and the guard inside flew out.
“They’re taking our treasure.” Morick sounded exasperated. “We worked hard to steal that!”
The carriages suddenly dropped off their wheels, right on time. The wheels spun out into the bushes, shooting like missiles, sending greenery flying into the air.
“No need to torment the poor guards,” Nora muttered. “Amateurs.”
The four of us broke for the carriages. I shifted into my wolf form in mid-air, my paws slamming into the ground before I bounded again. Nora was a step behind me, drawing her sword; being a bird wasn’t always her best strategic move.
Bryden tore the door off the carriage next to us. He was a towering, terrifying man, and he reached for whoever was inside.
Nora stood to one side of the carriage door, counting down silently with her fingers. At one, she yanked the door open and I flew inside, ready for a fight.