Before I get the chance to do something stupid, like stab the annoying man in front of me, Ran perks up.

Incoming, she says. Riders.

“Your Sir Robin will be here soon,” I tell Sir Hans, even as I glare at the assassin spy who still plays with my blade.

I grab another blade and flip it so I hold the point. I offer it to the silver-eyed crazy person.

Surprise tints his gaze. “If all’s fair in love and war, then I better up my game. Here’s the twin,” I say.

He grasps the handle slowly, as if wondering if it’s a trick. No trick. I let it go, then step back and shove the second of my new black blades in the second now-empty sheath. Thankfully, the leather sheathes have some give in them, otherwise the larger black blades would’ve been poking me in the ribs.

I still can’t see under that hood, but I sense befuddlement.

“Why?” he asks softly.

I go over checking my blades, especially my new ones, to make sure they go in and out smoothly. “I shouldn’t expect more from you than I do from myself,” I mumble. Or perhaps grumble. What’s the difference?

He sets a hand on my wrist, and my eyes snap to his. I'm not sure if he's going to try and kiss me or stab me. “Well said, my lady. You are—different.” My lips compress into a thin line. He squeezes my wrist gently. “Not a bad thing.” He appraises my masked face with such openness I wish to hide. “Not a bad thing at all.” His eyes dart to my bond before he abruptly backs off and lets go.

I hold up my new blade with a grin. He salutes me with one of mine that I didn’t even feel him lift.

I groan—then we take the twins from their sheaths and trade.

Sir Hans watches with a hooded expression that hides his true thoughts behind apathy. “You two are going to swap knives entirely by the time this is over. Are you sure you wish to continue trading right before battle?”

I look at the assassin spy beside me and shrug. “I like my blades, but yours are excellent quality.”

He looks at me, silver eyes crinkling in mirth. “Yours as well. But familiarity breeds prowess. Perhaps a truce is reasonable?”

“Sure. Then I’m getting me an extra set of blades.”

He holds out a hand with a chuckle, tipping his head. “We’ll see about that.”

I shake on it.

Sir Robin gallops into the clearing beside us. Ran and the two men step into the moonlight. I stay in the shadows beside the footprint.

A few of the younger squires jump as Ran steps from the shadows, and one even yelps, much to Ran’s amusement. She snaps her jaws and he whimpers.

I bite my tongue against the words I really want to say. She shouldn't be here as the Timber Wolf... but I know she won't listen, so I save my breath.

Be nice, I scold instead.

But this is so fun.

Scaring our backup? Yeah, sure.

She bumps me with her large rump, almost knocking me over. I grin, even as I edge forward a bit more into the clearing, just behind Silver Eyes and Ran.

“Sir Hans.” Sir Robin dismounts, and offers the famed knight a bow.

“Sir Robin.” Sir Hans inclines his head, offering the man a slight crinkling of his eyes.

It's enough for Sir Robin, who grins and gets the stiff Honour Knight in a bear hug.

They slap each other’s back with enough gusto that I cringe. What is it with macho men and shows of strength?

Silver Eyes chuckles, and I realize I said that out loud. Whoops.

I glare at him, even as he steps back so he is even with me instead of in front of me, but then my gaze is drawn down, to a black silken shirt that hugs his well-defined chest—and I’m so tempted—they look so pretty and so close in the moonlight, but I gave my word. No touching. It would be too tempting. I promised. No more stealing knives until after.

Shouldn’t have promised.

I sigh and step back before temptation gets the best of me. He moves like a wraith, staying beside me.

I look up to find laughing silver eyes on mine and realize the jerk stood that close on purpose. I’m tempted to punch him. Or stab him. That would be therapeutic.

But I don’t know how he’d react, so best to just hold out. For now.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

Later, after making sure he’ll have my back against this creature—well, as he said earlier, all’s fair in love and war. I can’t wait to get my hands on his blades without having to trade mine out.

I tune back in to Sir Hans as he updates the other big knight.

“—under the arm. I haven’t seen hide nor hair of this creature, never even heard of it, but our TImber Wolf called it a Bamshee.”

Sir Robin gives a slight start. “I ‘ave heard of the booger. My Granny used ta speak of ‘em. Large reptilian creatures who crave blood. Thought they were a creature of fancy to scare the little folks into behavin’.”

“They’re much more than that. Can they use those swords?” I ask, keeping my head slumped into the depths of my hood as I gesture to the men on horseback. I also keep my voice an octave higher than usual... just in case. This deception grates against my internal conscience, especially for a man as kind as Sir Robin has been to Sir Ri.

Sir Robin laughs, the scar along his cheek puckering as he smiles. “‘Course. Otherwise wouldn’t ‘ave brought ‘em.” I knew I liked the burly knight. He’s got a sense of humor and can fight. I’m glad he’s the one Hans called, even as guilt grows inside me at lying to him.

My lips morph into a smile they can't see beneath the mask. “Good. Leave the squires behind. This isn’t a time for them to earn their keep. We have no idea what we’re walking into, and the little information we have is not encouraging.”

Sir Robin looks to Sir Hans, who gives him a nod, backing up my words. I’m more thankful for Hans than ever. He’s a truly good friend... if it weren't for all the secrets he keeps, he'd be the best of friends. “Righty then. Sounds like we got some reptile tail to roast. Squires, pack ‘em up and turn back.”

They do as asked, even as the younger boys bristle, throwing glares at my hooded figure. Better angry than dead.

Sir Hans steps forward, grasping the mane of the big blue roan that's his trusted steed. I pat the stallion on his nose, giving the sweet bugger a kiss and a carrot, before I head over to Ran.

Silver Eyes hops up on a big black stallion with a glistening mane and tail that drags the ground. The boy is one of the most beautiful creatures I have ever seen. Sleek, masculine muscle ripples along his shoulders and hindquarters. An arching neck and slender, almost feminine head. Hair grows on his lower legs, the feather covering up hooves the size of dinner plates.

The assassin spy glances over at me, and with a smirk, pantomimes closing a jaw and wiping drool from one's lips.

I huff and glare, hopping up on Ran with one quick leap. “The audacity of that man!” I complain to Ran as she leads the pack of horses and well-armed knights, sniffling along the ground as she follows the trail, her tail wagging in excitement of the hunt with her ears pricked forward. The excitement hums through our bond, making me fidgety and giving me the urge to wag a tail I don't have.

She chitters. Don’t wanna hear it, two-legs. You’re the one who started it, you’ve just never found someone who can beat you at your own game. Besides me. Now hush. I need to focus. And so do you.

I huff and cross my arms, rocking to the movement of my bond's trot. Seriously? She’s taking his side in this?

I glance behind me and find his eyes on me. My heart pounds in my chest and I snap my head back around. I don’t have the time nor the mental capacity for a heart throb. Not now. Maybe not ever. It's better to focus on staying alive. Can’t help anyone dead.

But something in me whispers it wants more than survival. I want to live without the fear, worry, and dread that have been my constant companions for so long now they almost feel... normal. But that isn't what I want. I want peace to feel joy and explore something like a budding relationship or just time to relax in the sun with chocolate jinker-keifer. Perhaps I can... after everyone’s safe.

Especially my family.

“Not now, Aria,” I whisper to myself as images of my family come forward. Tingling starts behind my eyes and it feels as if someone has shoved their hand into my chest and squeezed. I'm chasing a monster to forget about my troubles for a bit... but it's not working. I bite my cheek and shove the tingling back with a force of will.

Then I smell something.

I cover my nose and gag. I have smelled many bad things in my time as a caped vigilante. The back alleys are not always the cleanest of places. Especially since most of the brothels, hostels, and inns throw out their waste into the back alleys. Hence, an ambience of rotting fruits and veggies mixed with the gag inducing scent of ammonia, plus the decomposing of waste sloshing in the dung tunnels waiting to drain beneath the city, has often been in my nose.

This is oh so much worse than any of that.

This is the scent of all those combined with the stink of a skunk and swamp and months old decaying animal. Times ten. It’s cloying and sticks to the back of your mouth until you can’t help but taste it.

Horrid.

Stomach acid burns the back of my throat. I swallow it down, but hear less lucky fellows behind me losing it.

That is the scent of death and the way the Bamshee hide their scent from the dragons. Even now, I’m following the tracks, not the scent. It’s too cloying. Ran pauses and then she sets off again. There’s something here. Warn your boy.

I almost snort. He’s not my boy.

Ran does snort. Fine. Your handsome man. Warn him.

I almost protest again, but know it’ll fall on deaf ears.

I gesture to the assassin spy and he trots up to me. Sir Hans also eases his stallion up so he can hear, but the trail is barely wide enough for two horses abreast.

“I feel it, as well,” he says, voice low and deep. I glance at him, craning my neck in order to see him on his seventeen hand giant, and see a flash of teeth beneath the hood. “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.”

I stiffen, drawing my shoulders back and looking straight ahead. “I don’t need your protection, thank you so very much.”

He tips his head in acquiescence, a smile playing at his lips, even as those silver eyes gleam in the moonlight. "True, mea tigris. But protection comes in many forms. You have no need of physical protection. You’re as wild as a tiger; all should fear her claws and teeth. But in other ways—“ He lets that sit as he reigns in his stallion, gliding back to take his spot beside Sir Hans, who also eases back, whispering something to Silver Eyes that makes teeth flash beneath that hood as they trot behind me.

“Now, what did that crazy assassin mean by that? I can take care of myself,” I mumble.

A loud barking growl comes from the depths of Ran's chest as she rears up, sending me tumbling from her back.

I hit the ground in a roll, but end up sliding in the treacherous mud of the swamp, landing with a jarring thump on my backend when my feet slip out from underneath me.

The crickets and night creatures go silent. Something else drowns out my grunts and hisses: a loud screech like that of an angry goose. I look up, just in time to see something large and reptilian with claws and scales—did I mention big?—fall from the tree above with flailing limbs. Its eyes widen, and I'd almost say there's surprise and fear on the thing's face, even as it falls—right on top of me.

The bulk of the thing crashes on my prone body, sending me deeper into the mud. My mouth fills with the gritty, stinky mud and I choke on the foul taste coating my mouth and trying to work its way down my throat. My middle burns with pain as something cracks.

Can I never catch a break?